Throughout the years,I have often visited this forum - usually for the purpose of obtaining reassurance when confronted with severe OCD spikes. I know, I know, reassurance is a big "no-no," when it comes to mastering OCD, but we all know how comforting a few minutes of reassurance can feel to the tortured mind.
I came across this group again today, and read through many of the threads, nodding my head at all the questions, and fears, and concerns. So many of y'all's thoughts have been mine. We hold so many fears in common. We react to OCD so similarly. But I joined the forum today, to simply give my story, and hope that it will provide some hope and true spiritual reassurance.
Shortly after my 12th birthday, I began to experience an odd array of foreign thoughts. In conjunction with this, I developed this habit of checking light switches and not stepping on the grout between tiles. The thoughts I experienced were extremely disturbing to my innocent, sensitive mind.
The thoughts told me I was a witch; that I had sold my soul to the devil; that I had blasphemed the Holy Spirit (sound familiar?); that I wanted to lead an evil anti-God life; that evolution was right; that I was eternally condemned to Hell for committing the unforgivable sin...etc., You know how the story goes.
I shared these thoughts with my parents, utterly convinced I was, somehow, a witch and everything else the thoughts told me. My parents prayed with me, and tenderly told me that these thoughts weren't me... at all.
But of course, the thoughts continued and increased, and my distress and fears increased as well. I eventually could not function: I would cry all night long, my appetite was AWOL, and many times I would burst into hysterical fits of anxiety. I could not do school, or household chores, or even socialize with my family members - my mind was so absorbed by the intrusive thoughts.
After a few wretched weeks of this torture, my parents took me to an acclaimed Psychologist in the area. And in his office, I was introduced to my hanger-on companion, OCD. I wish I could say we've been swell pals since . . .
My parents were convinced I had OCD - it took me several months, CBT, and Prozac to convince me.
8 1/2 years later, I still struggle with OCD - it comes and goes in waves, spiking some months, laying dormant others. Nearly every form of OCD has been thrown my way - with the exceptions of contamination and hoarding. It has wounded me deeply and left evident scars. I often considered OCD as curse - loathing it. It led me often to being disgusted with myself. For years it stole my joy.
I never thought there would be hope, and I often cried to God for a way out. One day, I beseeched God to heal me - of my wounds, of my core hurts, of the penetrating inflictions. And somehow, after so many years of struggles, and prayers, and tears, God has slowly, tenderly begun a healing process in me. This is my favorite part of the story.
I took some time to write down in my journal the blessings of OCD. Yes, I said blessings. I had always seen OCD from a sufferer's perspective, never from a victor's standpoint. And so I wrote, blessing after blessing after blessing.
1) OCD has brought me to my knees, countless times. It would force me to shut my closet door and cry out for God's mercy. Many intimate moments with the Lord in prayer and petition came out of my OCD struggles. HUGE BLESSING.
2) OCD has humbled me. Yes. Yes. Yes. It still does. God has used it to break my pride and show me my weaknesses. Woohoo!
3) OCD has given me a deep empathy for the pain and sufferings of others. It is carved out a specific sensitivity in my heart.
4) OCD has taught me perseverance. You know what I'm talking about: that ability to fight and fight and fight, even when the wind has been knocked out of your sails. And to do it all in your head (Shout out to Pure-O sufferers!) in the midst of friends and family, while none of them perceive the internal battle.
5) OCD has strengthened my desire for heaven. It is a daily reminder that I am in the flesh and bound to the fallen nature of man. It has made me thirst for the new creation I will be in heaven, and for the land that will have no tears.
6) OCD has increased my faith. Indeed. It has taught me (and is still teaching me!) that my ONLY hope is in Jesus Christ. I have no righteousness of my own. My salvation is secured in Him alone. Hallelujah that it doesn't rely on anything of my doing.
7) OCD has taught me to love grace and mercy. You know why. Grace and Mercy are some the most precious words an OCD sufferer can hear.
And the list goes on...
In addition to writing down the blessings of OCD, I also reflected on all that God has brought me through in the past 8+ years. He has shown Himself faithful and loving so many times. He has revealed Himself to me so tenderly. He has met me where I am - disheveled in spirit and broken in mind - and carried me. And through this process of seeing OCD from a different perspective, God truly began to bind up the wounds and put heavenly balm on my bruises.
Now when I think of OCD and remember so many SEVERE seasons of struggles, my heart barely winces, and if any tears come to my eyes, they are not tears of anguish, but tears of thanksgiving for God's deliverance.
I used to be a close book when it come to discussing my OCD with anyone. It was too personal, too humiliating, too painful. But now, by the grace of God, I rejoice in sharing my story with others. I see it as a testament to God's strength. I see it as a beautiful privilege to glorify the Lord in telling my story to inquisitive individuals. And telling my story has also been a tremendous part of the healing process.
Yes, I still struggle with OCD every day. And I expect I will for the rest of my life. But in looking back, I see God's protective hand guarding me from all harm.
OCD can be a mighty instrument in the hand of God. Its refining and sanctifying powers are many. And even so, He does desire to, once again, lead you by still waters and restore your soul.
I came across this group again today, and read through many of the threads, nodding my head at all the questions, and fears, and concerns. So many of y'all's thoughts have been mine. We hold so many fears in common. We react to OCD so similarly. But I joined the forum today, to simply give my story, and hope that it will provide some hope and true spiritual reassurance.
Shortly after my 12th birthday, I began to experience an odd array of foreign thoughts. In conjunction with this, I developed this habit of checking light switches and not stepping on the grout between tiles. The thoughts I experienced were extremely disturbing to my innocent, sensitive mind.
The thoughts told me I was a witch; that I had sold my soul to the devil; that I had blasphemed the Holy Spirit (sound familiar?); that I wanted to lead an evil anti-God life; that evolution was right; that I was eternally condemned to Hell for committing the unforgivable sin...etc., You know how the story goes.
I shared these thoughts with my parents, utterly convinced I was, somehow, a witch and everything else the thoughts told me. My parents prayed with me, and tenderly told me that these thoughts weren't me... at all.
But of course, the thoughts continued and increased, and my distress and fears increased as well. I eventually could not function: I would cry all night long, my appetite was AWOL, and many times I would burst into hysterical fits of anxiety. I could not do school, or household chores, or even socialize with my family members - my mind was so absorbed by the intrusive thoughts.
After a few wretched weeks of this torture, my parents took me to an acclaimed Psychologist in the area. And in his office, I was introduced to my hanger-on companion, OCD. I wish I could say we've been swell pals since . . .
My parents were convinced I had OCD - it took me several months, CBT, and Prozac to convince me.
8 1/2 years later, I still struggle with OCD - it comes and goes in waves, spiking some months, laying dormant others. Nearly every form of OCD has been thrown my way - with the exceptions of contamination and hoarding. It has wounded me deeply and left evident scars. I often considered OCD as curse - loathing it. It led me often to being disgusted with myself. For years it stole my joy.
I never thought there would be hope, and I often cried to God for a way out. One day, I beseeched God to heal me - of my wounds, of my core hurts, of the penetrating inflictions. And somehow, after so many years of struggles, and prayers, and tears, God has slowly, tenderly begun a healing process in me. This is my favorite part of the story.
I took some time to write down in my journal the blessings of OCD. Yes, I said blessings. I had always seen OCD from a sufferer's perspective, never from a victor's standpoint. And so I wrote, blessing after blessing after blessing.
1) OCD has brought me to my knees, countless times. It would force me to shut my closet door and cry out for God's mercy. Many intimate moments with the Lord in prayer and petition came out of my OCD struggles. HUGE BLESSING.
2) OCD has humbled me. Yes. Yes. Yes. It still does. God has used it to break my pride and show me my weaknesses. Woohoo!
3) OCD has given me a deep empathy for the pain and sufferings of others. It is carved out a specific sensitivity in my heart.
4) OCD has taught me perseverance. You know what I'm talking about: that ability to fight and fight and fight, even when the wind has been knocked out of your sails. And to do it all in your head (Shout out to Pure-O sufferers!) in the midst of friends and family, while none of them perceive the internal battle.
5) OCD has strengthened my desire for heaven. It is a daily reminder that I am in the flesh and bound to the fallen nature of man. It has made me thirst for the new creation I will be in heaven, and for the land that will have no tears.
6) OCD has increased my faith. Indeed. It has taught me (and is still teaching me!) that my ONLY hope is in Jesus Christ. I have no righteousness of my own. My salvation is secured in Him alone. Hallelujah that it doesn't rely on anything of my doing.
7) OCD has taught me to love grace and mercy. You know why. Grace and Mercy are some the most precious words an OCD sufferer can hear.
And the list goes on...
In addition to writing down the blessings of OCD, I also reflected on all that God has brought me through in the past 8+ years. He has shown Himself faithful and loving so many times. He has revealed Himself to me so tenderly. He has met me where I am - disheveled in spirit and broken in mind - and carried me. And through this process of seeing OCD from a different perspective, God truly began to bind up the wounds and put heavenly balm on my bruises.
Now when I think of OCD and remember so many SEVERE seasons of struggles, my heart barely winces, and if any tears come to my eyes, they are not tears of anguish, but tears of thanksgiving for God's deliverance.
I used to be a close book when it come to discussing my OCD with anyone. It was too personal, too humiliating, too painful. But now, by the grace of God, I rejoice in sharing my story with others. I see it as a testament to God's strength. I see it as a beautiful privilege to glorify the Lord in telling my story to inquisitive individuals. And telling my story has also been a tremendous part of the healing process.
Yes, I still struggle with OCD every day. And I expect I will for the rest of my life. But in looking back, I see God's protective hand guarding me from all harm.
OCD can be a mighty instrument in the hand of God. Its refining and sanctifying powers are many. And even so, He does desire to, once again, lead you by still waters and restore your soul.
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