Shrink Searching

Day Two

Have you ever searched for a therapist? Where do you begin? How do you decide whether or not a name in an insurance directory or on a website could be the right person to let inside your head? I'm not looking for someone to check out my tonsils or my skin condition, this is my head we're talking about. It's the only place in the world that truly belongs to me and me alone, and I have to decide who gets to join in the fun (for a healthy fee, I might add, going crazy is expensive stuff).

I began with a friend who has been through this kind of thing. He gave a great recommendation, however his guy is no longer in my insurance network. Then I moved on to a friend who works for the Mental Health Board of a nearby county. He recommended the Mental Health Board of my county. They recommended a list of agencies and gave me phone numbers. I don't know if any of these are in the network or not, so there is research to be done. And, if there is research afoot, I might as well become an expert on shrink searching (this is one of my symptoms - needing to become an expert on everything that effects me or people I care about).

I decided to nip this insurance thing in the bud and peruse the old network directory myself. Once I had a list of likely suspects, I googled, read, defined, and googled some more. I can honestly say that, in the last several days, I have exhausted my resources and I am squarely back where I started.

I have a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers with no clue how to proceed. Couple this lack of direction with a basic distrust of everything and everyone (another of my fabulous symptoms) and you get my latest source of anxiety. I guess I'll have to just date around, slapping down co-pays and sitting through office consultations until I find my shrink charming. Wish me luck, I'll keep you informed as I go.

You Shouldn't Say "Crazy".

Day 2

My wife and I have had some of the best conversations in the last two weeks. Ever since the "Morning of the Orange" (more about that later), we have discussed every aspect of our marriage with a new openness and honesty. You'd like Leslie, she is the sweetest, most loyal, most helpful, most loving person on earth. Honestly, I feel badly for every other man who had to marry less.

Anyway, in one of our conversations recently, she fussed at me for using the term, "crazy" to describe myself (non-OCD folks really struggle with the whole self-loathing thing). "People will think you're belittling them, and they'll be offended." She helps me think, see, and hear, through the brains, eyes, and ears of others, because I'm so busy trying to sort out all of the rogue thoughts marauding through my own brain. And I do see her point.

So, let me first declare that neither the title of this blog nor any of it's posts are meant to offend anyone. Now, I'll tell you why I say, "crazy". Have you ever seen the movie What About Bob? In the film, Bill Murray is afraid that he may have Tourets Syndrome, so he occasionally shouts obscenities on purpose. The rationale is that, if he were shouting them involuntarily, he may have Turrets Syndrome, so, as long as he is doing it on purpose, he knows he doesen't have the disease.

I know that I'm not crazy (at least not any crazier than I have ever been or than most people are). I use the term to lessen the severity of the situation. "Crazy" is a word we use when we speak of something that is absurd or rediculous. Words like "obsessive" and "compulsive" are scary words that denote real and debilitating things. I would much rather think of the madness I live everyday as absurd. Believe me, no one understands the very real pain of OCD more than me, and anyone out there struggling with this junk has my deepest empathy. Saying "crazy" just helps me to deal with it. Thanks for understanding.

OK, so I'm crazy.

It's called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It has symptoms, a diagnosis, treatment options, medications, books, manuals, websites, television personalities, and even it's own government agency. It's the reason why millions of people wash their hands til they bleed. It's what causes them to touch, tap, step, knock, repeat, chew, speak, count, and check certain things in a certain ways every day. It twists and distorts our understanding of religion, sex, work, family, and friends. It's a clinical condition that can be the scariest place imaginable. It's a prison of the mind, an oppression of the spirit, and a struggle for sanity. It's the fog through which even the brightest light labors to penetrate. It's confusion, anxiety, adversity, and pain.

For me, it's everyday life.

I have exhibited symptoms of OCD for as long as I can remember. Recently, these symptoms have intensified. What used to be the "things that make me unique" have become the "things that make me crazy". This blog is about my struggle with this demon. This is where I will record my day to day thoughts and struggles - my defeats and my victories. I have two choices at this point in my life - roll over and die or fight my way out. I've never been one for rolling over and I'm not about to start now.

You're welcome to walk this valley with me. If you are living with OCD or if someone you love is, take heart. There are brighter days somewhere, and we will find them together.