It's raining—dark and grey morning. I have the windows open. I have a candle burning. I am sipping coffee from my Star Trek mug.
There has been much on my mind lately. Too much, really. So many thoughts pressed into the small space of my brain. It feels like an NYC subway during rush hour.
Some of these thoughts are arising from my spiritual direction sessions.
Some patterns of thought and behavior have been made more clear to me, which causes me to comb through the events of my life through the lens of these patterns and diagnostic language to see how well they fit with the whole of my experience.
But I think to be fair, this is also just how my brain is all the goddamned time. Always reviewing, reworking, recontextualizing, reframing everything, always. Which is a cool thing. It makes me good at my work (when I am capable of doing this kind of work). But that focus and constant questioning is often turned inward towards my own psychological machinery (as this here blog can attest) and that seems to really gum up the works. Leaving me frozen, unable to make any choice or take any action, because I am eternally internally debating whether it is the right choice and action.
My spiritual direction person (spiritual director sounds weird, somehow), has suggested that I might have something called Scrupulosity Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I had always considered OCD to be someone obsessed with cleanliness and order and repeated rituals (tap the light switch three times before turning it on, etc). But what it is, in actuality, is obsessive intrusive thoughts that can manifest in all kinds of external behaviors.
Scrupulosity OCD is obsessive and uncontrollable thoughts about religious and moral concerns. A sort of constant internal monologue worried about causing harm to others and being a good person in all situations.
And this does seem to fit me pretty well. I have found "respectable" ways of dwelling on my anxieties through my endless exploration of religious studies and moral philosophy. But it still keeps seeping out in more self-destructive ways as well.
It is what made me a very well-behaved and zealous Christian when I was younger. It is also a big reason why I left the church. My initial "deconstruction" began with my anxiety about how to be "the right kind" of Christian. What if my denomination or interpretation of the Bible was wrong? What if I was making God sad by worshipping Him the wrong way? That might sound like a silly thing to some of you, but that was a very real and constant fear of mine. So much so that it changed the trajectory of my whole life.
And that fear of causing harm to someone even when I only have good intentions to help or please that someone remains a very big cause of anxiety to me. I have flashbacks throughout most days and they do seem to focus on those moments in particular. All the times I have hurt someone's feelings without my awareness or because of a lack of information. It really weighs on me. This is, again, why I focus so much on learning about the "human condition" and the sort of proper care and feeding of humans so that I can avoid making those same mistakes in the future.
This particular kind of OCD does seem prevalent with church kids and those raised in what could be called a "high-control environment." It makes sense. If a child is told they are bad by nature and doing bad things makes God and their parents sad, some might come to the conclusion that the only way to ensure love, acceptance, and protection is by being morally perfect and well-behaved as often as possible.
Now obviously this isn't true for all church kids. I think there is probably a combination of factors at play here. Probably one of the biggest being the interplay between parent and child. If say, a parent is preoccupied with their own stress and feelings of being overwhelmed by the world (often with good cause considering jobs and money and the complexities of marriage and undiagnosed mental stuff, etc) a child might feel that their own needs are just a further inconvenience or burden to their caregivers. And thus, they are "bad" and "selfish" just for needing what they need. Let alone the times they "make things worse" by being loud or messy or disobedient. This largely describes my relationship with my mother.
Or say that a child (like me) is sometimes physically and emotionally abused by a father. And that father also happens to be a pastor. Which amplifies that child's view of him as a moral authority. Not just the head of a household (which is bad enough), but an actual divinely mandated authority for what is good and right. And say that this child (which is still me) is always told by church members just how moral and righteous and wonderful their dad is, it seems only natural that the child would come to the conclusion that they must be the one that is in the wrong. That they deserve whatever punishment they receive. That they are in fact unlovable as they are. That they must be good. Be better.
My loss of faith in my early twenties was a cataclysmic event in my life. Among the things that were lost to me, that was the rules that I knew to follow to gain approval and acceptance. From my father, from my community, and from my God. I no longer knew what it meant to be a good person. And in fact, I was suddenly seen as a bad person on account that I could no longer believe the things that I used to. So I tried to defend and validate myself by finding some new moral framework to believe in. A better one. I wanted, needed, to prove that I was still a good person. But what is a good person? What does that mean in reality?
I don't know. And not knowing kills me. Almost literally a few times. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop, you know? I just wanted to stop feeling perpetually like I'm in trouble, like I've done something bad, like I don't deserve to be here.
And achieving all of that and remaining alive seemed to be a rather impossible task.
But that's the wonderful thing about therapy and diagnostic language and labels (when accurately used). It is so freeing to see that my goal does not have to be being morally perfect in all ways and at all times but is rather to learn to let go of my need to be those things. And that is an easier, more achievable thing.
Still hard as fuck, no doubt. But achievable.
I want to feel comfortable with myself and my body. I want to feel at home in this world. I want to belong to a community that accepts and loves me just as I am.
And I do still want to be good. But actually good. Not as performance, not for approval, not out of fear of consequences, but because it feels good to be kind and open and generous and caring of others. I just need to learn how to be that without being obsessive and anxious and constantly worried about failing. I need to learn that I am already good. A sentence that was incredibly hard to write and rather impossible to believe (right now, at least).
Even now, I am feeling guilty for writing too much here in my own diary, which no one is forced to read. I still feel guilty for taking up any space at all. Even when it's welcome. Even when it's requested.
But now at least, I can observe those thoughts and feelings for what they are. And that's something. That's enough for now.
If you've read this far, please know that I appreciate you. Thank you for bearing witness to all these dark and secret things of my life. I am so honored to be able to do the same for you here on this strange little website.
So thank you, Diaryland. Thank you, reader. Be kind to yourself today if you are able.
8:56 a.m. - 2023-03-21
Recent entries:
At the Bottom of the Staircase - 2023-04-30
Falling down a spiral staircase of the brain - 2023-04-27
- - 2023-04-13
A Tribute to My Bookstore Surrounded by Other News - 2023-04-07
Observe and Report - 2023-04-01
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