DIARY”
As part of cognitive-biobehavioral self-treatment, I urge patients to keep a journal of their progress. Christopher, a faithful journal keeper, says, “I’ve found that whenever I recover from an OCD symptom, the natural tendency is for that symptom to become relegated to the back of my mind or forgotten. That’s the goal, ofcourse, but as you forget each symptom, you tend to forget your progress.” Without this written record, he believes, the road to recovery is “like taking a journey across a desert and only walking backwards, while wiping away your footprints with your hand. It looks like you’re always at the starting point.” The critical point is to chart your progress, to keep a record of your behavior therapy efforts. It can be short and simple. It doesn’t have to be fancy or complicated.
Christopher also uses the Impartial Spectator in Relabeling. He prefers to call it “my rational mind,” as in, “My rational mind says this isn’t true. This is reality. This isn’t. I’m going to follow the advice of my rational mind.” This is a perfectly legitimate and accurate alternative term. It’s the action of making mental notes that’s important, not what you call the process of mental observation.
Think of the Impartial Spectator as a vehicle for distancing your will from your OCD. In other words, create a safety zone between your internal spirit and the unwanted compulsive urge. Rather than respond to the urge in a mechanical, unthinking fashion, you present yourself with alternatives. As you’ll learn later, it’s good to have some alternative behaviors up your sleeve, so you’ll be ready when the intense pain occurs. As Domingo said, “This thing, OCD, is damned clever. You have to keep your wits about you to beat it.”
Frequently, patients find that one symptom disappears, only to be supplanted by another. However, a new symptom is always easier to control than one that has been long entrenched. Without treatment, OCD will just beat you into submission. Anticipate—be ready to resist this thing early on—and it will be far less painful.
HUGHES: BEYOND BIZARRE
This disease, OCD, manifests itself in ways that give new meaning to the word bizarre . Consider, once again, Howard Hughes. He went so far as to come up with a theory he called the “backflow of germs.” When his closest friend died of the complications of hepatitis, Hughes could not bring himself to send flowers to the funeral, fearing in his OCD-controlled mind that if he did, the hepatitis germswould somehow find their way back to him. Hughes was also a compulsive toilet sitter, once sitting for forty-two hours, unable to convince himself that he had finished the business at hand. This is not a rare OCD symptom, and I’ve treated a number of people for it. When they’re ready to get better, they’ll say, “I’d rather soil my trousers than sit here another minute.” Of course, no one has ever soiled his or her clothing.
Senseless repetition was another common symptom that Hughes was observed to have. Hughes, a cross-country pilot, once called an assistant to get the Kansas City weather tables before he took off. He didn’t ask for those tables just once. Although he got the information he needed for his flight the first time, he asked thirty-three times, repeating the same question. He then denied having repeated himself.
Interviewing me for his book on Hughes, Peter Brown asked, “Why couldn’t he stop it, someone as brilliant as he was?” Brilliance has nothing to do with it. Hughes had the feeling that something really bad was going to happen if he didn’t repeat that question 33 times. In this case, the catastrophic thought may have been that the plane would crash. Maybe he’d planned to ask the question only 3 times—to quell his OCD-induced anxiety—but didn’t put the accent on the right syllable, or something equally ludicrous, the third time, and thus felt compelled to ask it 33 times. Had
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