The only thing I have perfect access to is my own mind, and what I know about the world is based on my own perceived experiences. While I love talking about how we gain knowledge, and I often think about what real things are – which, in my opinion, is anything we can be wrong about – I have recently been pressed about another consequence of the fact that an individual has a limited perspective and a limited access to reality: anxiety.
I am well aware that anxiety problems run in my family. I come from a family of over thinkers, and I exhibit the behaviors of a well-known anxiety problem: OCD. Technically speaking, the label is a little bit messier, as OCD is not technically OCD unless it inhibits an individual’s ability to function properly in life. We all have pet peeves.
But, in the past, I have had to go to a psychologist – and while I was totally a completely functioning individual as a young boy, I am sure the fact that I found myself washing my hands every 3-5 minutes because they felt dirty, and my hands would crack in the winter, and I would silently pray away intrusive thoughts over and over again in class as a high school student, and just pretend to be really tired, or I would force the volume on the TV to be a number that ended in 4, because other numbers made me uncomfortable, or a bug bit my arm and I totally was going to die so I just needed to ask my parents over and over again if this was it for me and I needed to alleviate the anxious tension among other things somehow – my behaviors totally did not mess with my quality of life in any way.
But, hey, I was never accurately diagnosed with anything, so if I am correct – and people who are more educated on the topics than I am, correct me if I am wrong – I technically do not have OCD.
Analyzing my brain biologically, and assuming I really do have OCD, one would find that a specific mechanism in my brain does not properly deploy. This part of my brain is responsible for telling me that a pressing matter causing me stress is no longer pressing and I no longer need to be in a stressed state even if the stressor is gone. I might consciously conclude the stressor is no longer there – I mean, I just saw myself wash my hands and they are likely very clean – but it does not matter: I am still going to feel anxious and I need to clean my hands.
Now I am past hands, thank God. I am also past volumes, and numbers, and fear of illnesses (well, for the most part – but maybe that’s just being careful about one’s health, right?), but I find myself still anxious about other sporadic parts of my life: myself and other people.
What are other peoples’ intentions? What are my own intentions? How can I trust that I have not hurt others, and how can I trust that other people genuinely want me in their lives? All throughout my life, I have observed, and been the victim of, people who live dishonestly towards others, and would turn on friends almost randomly, which I could not accurately understand. I still do not understand. I do not know if it is naivety, or innocence, but I cannot understand how someone could just so very quickly cause such a negative impact to people around them and feel no remorse. I mean, you are hurting another person with thoughts, feelings, insecurities and desires. How would you feel in their shoes?
And what keeps others from spontaneously just, well, leaving me then? And if I have ever wronged or hurt someone, how do I truly know that they forgive me and that they are okay? I can, and have, asked a friend “You’ll stay my friend right?” or “I am okay, right?” and I have gotten a variety of responses, responses that have ranged from an annoyed “Yes, Nick” to a comforting “You’re okay” to, from a very self-aware friend who is also well-versed in the facets of neuroscience and psychology, a declarative “I am not going to answer that, Nick” – the last response forcing me to live in the anxiety, which is exactly what cognitive forms of therapy to OCD force patients to do. Looking for affirmation only provides temporary comfort, but my brain cannot effectively turn off the anxious loop, and so the affirmation will only reinforce the anxious feedback loop and instill ritualistic behavior.
‘Will my friend stop being my friend? Let me ask. Okay, they said they will stay my friend. Okay. It’s okay. But how can I be sure? I should totally ask. Same response. Okay. But are they sure? I should probably ask…’
I don’t often exhibit the above behavior anymore. I mean, no, I totally do, just perhaps in different ways, but I am well aware this anxiety will likely be something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. My family over thinks everything – and hey, maybe that is a somewhat good thing sometimes; I have been told that I am a somewhat self-aware individual.
And, I mean, I do not wash my hands obsessively anymore, and the fact that I can change my computer’s volume to a random number like 29 and that is totally okay, shows that I have gotten better in many regards. And, last summer, when a very bad anxious feedback loop hit me in the middle of an Orientation session – and thanks to a wonderful friend who convinced me that, while I was breathing heavily and pacing on the verge of fainting, I probably was not in a good place to run a Common Ground trip – I was able to take a step back from everything and deal with the loop, and break out of it.
And I know I have problems, is that not the first step in the process of fixing problems? Awareness?
As I talked about this with one of my mentors, Bobby from Sojourn, our conversations led me to a few ideas that I definitely have to reflect on. Besides the fact that he suggested it may do me good to seek professional help again – which may not help me anymore than allow me to obtain a more accurate diagnosis about my internal psychology and perhaps more methods in which I can better cope with and understand the underlying causes of my behaviors – he did suggest a few other ideas that I guess will marinate in my head and pop up at random moments in my thoughts and in the music I listen to and in conversations for the next while.
Do I value myself? Do I think that my friends and the people close to me could leave me easily because I do not see myself as a valuable human being? Even further, is there even such thing as a human being without value? I would say no to the latter question, people matter. There’s an inconsistency in my thinking there, and my doubts towards my own self-worth is most certainly not, as many theologians and writers have pointed out, humbleness. In fact, that might be connected to a form of arrogance. Is that where the problems in me lie?
Do I struggle with trusting? I try very hard to be a reliable support and security to my friends and family. I genuinely care about those around me, and I genuinely do not wish these anxieties on anyone. And I think I am an optimist. I do genuinely think people are great. But, do I live that way? Do I really think that then? If there is an inherent problem in me with trust, is it solely a biological problem that I may need to cope with, or are there underlying problems in my psyche that I have to consider?
Honestly, I do not have answers to these questions, but I am sure I will continue to ponder these ideas in my conversations with friends and mentors for the next many days to come.