OCD, the Kids and Me

Some of what I am about to write will be the first time my own mom will hear about them. But don't let that statement fool you, because my mom knew since I was little that I was titter-tottering into the world of OCD. I distinctly remember washing my hands like crazy when I was younger. Washing them so often and sometimes hard enough that my hands were often cracked and bleeding. I also distinctively remember my mom standing on the front step of our little rancher telling me, "Becky [Yes, that is what most people called me when I was 7-years-old or so.] you do not need to go to the bathroom. You just went. Go play with your friends and have fun." She said this with her hand on her hip and I even can remember seeing worry in her eyes as I walked away crying that my own mother actually turned me away from using the restroom. She had reason to worry and reason to force the issue with me. I had been potty-trained for a few years by that point; however, I went through a period of time where I would just run to the restroom believing that I had to really go about every 5 to 10 minutes, even when I was playing with my sisters and friends. While many of you have seen me, and you know that I don't run to the restroom about every 5 to 10 minutes anymore, I still have OCD tendencies that are very real and true today. They have just morphed into different forms at different times.





My sisters and college roommates as well as my children and my husband, can most definitely vouch that my need to find a missing item right then and there, as soon as I have realized it is missing, still exists today, all be it that with the kids with their needs and our schedules don't allow for a huge hunt all of the time. But be assured that if time allows for it a search and rescue mission will embark promptly. Usually, you can find me frantically searching through drawers and closets and more. And even if I give up the pursuit of a missing sock or a missing hair bow, just know that in my mind a huge battle over abandoning the search is raging. Most times I come home and begin the search again. It becomes one of my priorities of the day. However, with having more children the need to find every missing toy or sock or hair bow or whatever is less great as time just doesn't allow for it anymore. I thank God for my 3 little blessings that have helped me overcome this area a bit more than I ever thought I could.





While I have never been diagnosed with OCD, I am almost certain that if I went to see a psychologist, I would most likely get termed with it, perhaps a milder version of it though. I don't need to be medicated for it as I usually can manage it relatively okay for the most part on my own.





First of all, I am one of those people I'd like to call a "germ-a-phobe." For example, I despise and detest public restrooms. Yes, I do 'hover' above the public restroom toilets to do my business most of the time; and yes, although my quads can scream out in agony, I have 'hovered' above toilets 9-months-pregnant. And if I must sit, I do it by using toilet paper, toilet seat covers and/or I use antibacterial wipes. I also carry a small bottle of Lysol spray for toilets I deem absolutely necessary to clean off before my children's little bum bums sit upon them. Recently, I went into almost near meltdown when a trip to a Burger King's restroom sent me into a near OCD coma as I watched my little 3-year-old step in her poopy britches to only spread the wealth around onto the rest of the floor and the world. And as I realized if my child could do this what have other people done in there, my cute, adorable Paisley managed to fall bare butt and all onto the bathroom stall floor sending me through the roof with disgust and horror! I got her up and began dowsing her legs and bottom with hand sanitizer and yes even a quick swipe with my anti-bacterial wipes. Afterwards, Skye also had to take a 'dump' just minutes after Paisley's episode, I had about all I could take. For all to see in the diningroom, I declared I was done for the day and retreated to the minivan with tears in my eyes and Ian in tow. See somewhere in there, in the OCD of it all and just 'mom hood' in general, I publicly announced to everyone in ear shot of Scot who was arguing with me about something I asked him to do or not do or fetch for me or something "Dammit Scot, would you just do what I say." Mind you, I did this with drum role please... wearing my camo t-shirt with the pink writing that said "I Love Jesus." I was a great witness there, wasn't I? My dad always made comments when I was growing up about not announcing that you are a Christian on a t-shirt or bumper sticker on the back of your vehicle just for reasons like the one I displayed that day.



Anyways... When I am extremely stressed, or when I am exhausted, (though not limited to the just fore mentioned reasons) I tend to experience what I would like to say are more "flare-ups." Doing off-the-wall crazy things that if the normal population knew about it they would think I was crazy. I have kept a lot of it a secret for years and years. I have only recently, told Scot some of my 'moments' because I was finding myself in a larger and longer flare-up than normal.



My busy-body neighbor L, has probably watched me recently go back and forth to the house from the car. I either go back to check the door or make sure for the ump-teenth time that I turned something off even though I checked it just seconds prior. Sometimes, I physically check a door knob to make sure it is locked. A little tug and pull before I am on my way. Well, I realized that my kids have begun to notice this recent bout because as I got in the driver's seat on Tuesday to head to Wellspring, Paisley said "Mommy, please don't got back into the house because you forgot something." Struck me that my kids are now noticing what I have been fighting to hide.



When I am in huge flare-ups, like the current one that I am in, I do crazier things than that. When I don't feel like I am in control and when talking to God just just doesn't always cut it for me, I have to find something that I can control... however, small or big, just something.




Now I am about to share with you an example of one such crazy, off-the-wall thing that I can find myself doing. I am going to be transparent but I realize that I could be sticking my neck out to do so. But this can help you understand why and how Skye's hospitalization and our illnesses and life in general with in the last year or more can and has affected me; and how I have need to have a sense of control. Also, how God has really been trying to help me through these times and moments; and how I have to fight to overcome, my mind with the Lord's help. This also could explain why I feel like the leap of faith I am taking this year needs to take place on so many levels. I need to free-fall into God's goodness and plan for me. Do something with out knowing how it will all work out.




I used to have plain white walls, in my house. My new found love of color has also been accompanied with the need to make sure my painted walls stay crisp--with out so much as a simple scratch if you will. As soon as Scot or one of the children scratches the paint on a wall, I will fix it as soon as possible. With in minutes or in a day or two of the infraction, rest assure that spot will be painted with my touch up paint. Now when I am in a funk and I start to think of the what ifs, I can sit there and pick through my brain as to what could happen to the walls and wonder if I have enough paint to fix the walls 'if God forbid' my walls got destroyed or something. Well, if it worries me too much, I will stop what I am doing and open my shed door to account for every can of paint color for every room like they grew feet and walked away from the last time I checked them.


Now like I alluded to earlier. Thank goodness for my kids because they have helped me learn to let some of the need to control and double check go. With more kids, I have learned that I simply don't have the time to worry and take control of everything. For example, Scot and I actually bought new furniture about two years ago. A couch, sofa table and a beautiful coffee table. Well, with in two days of that piece of furniture coming home, Skye put a dent in the coffee table. And well ever since then, with three kiddos, that poor table, and me for that matter, haven't stood a chance. That thing is riddled with scratches and dents now and I have learned to let it go. Plus, my kids have made that piece of furniture have character now and has given it memories.


With Skye's illness as well as Paisley's and Ian's this past year, I have also learned that my time is more important than worrying, and stressing, and trying to control everything. There are other things that are just more important. For instance, a few weeks ago I was the cause of a little "bumper car action" in the school pick-up line. Luckily, the worst damage to the other vehicle was a dented license plate. My vehicle on the other hand was not as lucky. Some dents and scratches and a $50 new plastic foot plate, my vehicle received the worst; however, if this happened before all our hospitalizations, and health concerns, and more, I would have wigged out about it and obsessed over the little dents for days and days. IT was just different for me this time.



While I struggle with OCD tendencies and habits, God has helped me get this far and He will continue to help me. And while I am thankful for my kids and how God has used them to help put things into perspective, I do fear that them seeing me struggle will affect them in a negative way. BUT may be just may be, they can see that it has only been with God's help and mercy that I have come this far and have overcome some of the obstacles I have faced. I go to God so much more now. May be the kids will see my dependency on Him to see us though the rough patches.