OCD In the Time of Corona - An Essay written in 2020

The following essay was written in 2020 for the publication Quarantine Weekly. It was a time when my mental health had reached an all time low (as with many of us I’m sure) and this essay was a chance to put in print how I had been feeling about starting Exposure Therapy for the first time.

Illustration created in 2020.

Imagine swimming up from the darkness. Your lungs burning, your eyes squinting, blurry light rippling above you. Imagine the moment your head breaks through - will you inhale deeply, drinking air more greedily than you’ve ever drank water? Can you feel it? Do you become aware of the rapid ascent of calm, the leaking of an earlier panic as it leaves your skin and your heart slowly, slowly, comes to terms with the absence of danger? Do you believe it? This is what it feels like to recover from a panic attack. 

At the beginning of March, I was having one such experience with a panic attack. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like my anxiety was in response to quarantine.  People in my life who know I live with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) wondered (as I would if I were them) if the germs, the sickness, the hand washing and mask wearing were contributing in some way. I politely explained that no, that wasn’t it - that while those are very real fears for a lot of people with OCD, my fears were stemming from something much different. Not for the first time in my life, I began the process of explaining just how differently OCD can present itself in people. 

I’ve been meeting with my therapist twice a week via video chat since the quarantine began (which is a privilege not everyone has). Our conversations have not turned to germs or disease. They have not surrounded cleanliness or handwashing. We’ve talked a lot about change - about the unmooring of the things one knows to be true and the absolute upheaval of daily life. We’ve talked about mortality and religion and treating my obsessions with exposure therapy, a common treatment for those with OCD. Obsessions are defined as “thoughts, images or impulses that occur over and over again” by the International OCD Foundation. We’ve talked about planning my wedding during a global pandemic. OCD is complicated;  even more so in this time. If I could draw a map of my brain and point to just where the fear originates, it would not be as simple as pinpointing the OCD or even the COVID-19 pandemic. Mental health conditions spider-web, intertwining themselves with all aspects of life. They are informed and emboldened by rational fears. The map would consist of obvious intrusive thoughts but it would also hold a twisting hodge-podge of paths and valleys leading into other parts of life. 

Too often, mental-health conditions (as it’s referred to by Mental Health America) are misunderstood, underestimated or used flippantly to describe non-clinical experiences. This is shown to be compounded in racial minority groups by a Case Western Reserve University study and in the LGBTQ community, as outlined by the Trevor Project.  It is important and vital work, especially during the global pandemic, to commit ourselves to a better understanding of mental health conditions and how they are presented in our families, friends and neighbors. I can’t do this for you. Your friends, family and neighbors shouldn’t have to, either. This is a pursuit we must take on in the name of community and connectedness. One in five adults in the U.S. will experience some form of a mental health condition in their lifetime. While we’ve been forced to stay six feet away from each other for the past month, we have been distancing from the experiences and emotions of others for far longer. We may not be able to physically be near each other, but now, more than ever, let’s close the distance brought on by a lack of empathy. 

Imagine you’re standing on a diving board - ready to take the leap. As you leave the familiarity that comes with solid ground, you can feel the rush of air against your skin and see gleaming blue water below you. You are excited to feel the comforting cool liquid. Do you tuck your hands above your head and point your toes? Do you close your eyes? It’s okay, you are safe. This is what it feels like to be vulnerable about your mental health and to be accepted - to get the help you need.