Inspiration from an Unlikely Source
I recently returned from a week-long âvacationâ with four toddlers, two sets of parents, and two sets of in-laws. Not an unwelcome trip, but I wouldnât describe it as relaxing. Indeed, I arrived back home feeling like I needed a break from my kids (and people in general).
*Trigger OCD*
As soon as I had that thought, I started spiking about whether I truly love my children, whether I will get (or already am) sick of them, whether Iâm a good parent, whether it was a mistake to have children, and so on and so forth. I have had this spike theme before, but that doesnât make it any less agonizing.
Part of what fuels my OCD is guilt. Big time, former Catholic guilt. So imagine my surprise when I found inspiration for dealing with my current spike theme in the autobiography of a Catholic saint. I wasnât actually reading her autobiography, but another (secular) book written by a Jewish author that happened to talk about and quote the spiritual memoir of Saint Therese of Lisieux, Story of a Soul.Â
A distinguishing characteristic of Saint Therese, who died in 1897 at just 24 years of age, is that she achieved sainthood through the perfection of small, ordinary acts. There was  nothing outwardly striking about Saint Thereseâs life or death; she did not perform outstanding feats or undertake daring adventures. Yet, as discussed in The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin (from whose work I also took the foregoing two sentences), she exhibited a way of being that translates beautifully into a kind of exposure therapy for OCD:
Therese intensely disliked one of her fellow nuns, Teresa of Saint Augustine, whom Therese described, without identifying her, as âa Sister who has the faculty of displeasing me in everything, in her ways, her words, her character.â Instead of avoiding her, Therese sought out this nun at every turn and treated her âas if I loved her best of allââ-so successfully that this sister once asked Therese, âWould you tell me . . . what attracts you so much toward me; every time you look at me, I see your smile?â
I read this and immediately thought that, as I am spiking about whether I really, truly love my children, I should turn toward them, not away (as instinct drives me). Turning away from a spike only fuels it. I know this from experience, yet I would be lying if I said it gets easier with time. With every spike theme, new or recurring, I have to consciously practice not avoiding the trigger(s). This is the work of exposure therapy. And it is indeed work. Unpleasant, unnatural-feeling work. But itâs the only reliable way out of an OCD spiral, however wrong it feels on an innate and visceral level to lean in to the thoughts that scare you.











