Rise
Photo credit: Anne Taintor
Several years ago, while living on Kaua`i, I came up with an idea for a capital campaign for the school I was working for. Along with my colleague, we named this campaign Rise. The idea gained traction and soon it turned into a full-fledged push for something I had absolutely no experience in—serious fundraising. Not wanting to screw this job up, I taught myself the basics of graphic design and began acting as the in-house graphic designer for all digital and print materials that went with this campaign. Then I took on the design, writing, and publication of the annual report. Aaaand I wrote the weekly newsletter, did all the photography for events/newsletter/social media, and maintained all social media accounts. I would literally crawl on the ground all over that campus and scraped up my knees to get the best photos. Also, I helped organize and plan the annual gala. Yowzah.
Juggling all that I was doing at work and momming three children, I ended up cooking on burners that I didn’t even know I had. Another thing I didn’t yet know I had was OCD. I should have known I had it but all I knew at that point was that I had a lot of fears that one might label as “crazy”. As I slogged through my work, I got stuck. I read, re-read, read, re-read, read, re-read, read, and re-read the annual report I designed and wrote. I guess the most irrational fear of mine was making mistakes in my writing (still an issue for me). True story: I used to recheck all of my sent emails more times than I care to admit. I still struggle with this. I recognized that I had a problem and sought help from a therapist. Then, I obsessed over therapy too and would rehearse what I was going to say beforehand. Even though I knew I needed medication, I only asked if she thought I needed it. “I don’t think you’re there yet” she said. I was sooooo there but I just said “OK”. Onward I pushed and despite the therapy (and the therapy I rehearsed in the car before I went), I got worse and worse. I was a hot mess inside but looked cool as a cucumber to everyone else. At least, I think I did. I don’t know, ask them.
I equate what happened to me on Kaua`i with the head of a very deep and painful pimple. I had let so much build up inside of me over the years and I made the huge mistake of not insisting that medication was needed to get me unstuck. I think Mom having lung surgery and facing chemo 6000 miles away was the pin that finally burst that pimple. What resulted was messy—I quit, we moved the family back to Massachusetts, helped Mom and Dad, gave Mom her injections (not easy when you have OCD), got medication, got more therapy, fell into more debt than I like to talk about (someday I will, I promise), pushed through, got separated, collapsed a few times, won a writing residency in the backwoods of Maine, cried A LOT in front of a lake, prayed, got a message on my way home, landed my old job two days later, kept going to therapy, kept taking medication, pushed forward, made some mistakes, started doing yoga, got my groove back, started dating someone, and then BOOM…COVID. Lordy, lordy. What the actual friggity frig?
The past two years have tested every fiber of my humanity. Guess what? More tests are coming. I still need therapy, still need medication, and I’m still in debt. I’m working on that last one and it is my pièce de résistance. Fun fact—avoidance is a big part of OCD and, for me, is the hardest one to tackle. I’ll get there but you’re going to have to hold me to it. Deal? The important thing is that after all the work I have put in, I am officially unstuck. I credit that work with my being able to carry onward during the pandemic despite all the variables it threw at us. I understand now that I cannot control the uncertainties of life. The only thing I can control is how I live and what choices I make. I will always choose to use my voice for whatever good it can do. It turns out that the Rise campaign I created had nothing to do with a school but everything to do with clambering out of an OCD spiral that nearly claimed my life. Living out loud through writing was the best decision I ever made; your readership has forced me to be honest not only with you but with myself. Because you read, I will continue to rise. Thank you. I owe you my life.