McLean

Excited and sad and anxious and hopeful and so, so tired already!

My legs bounce alternately. Balls of my feet on the floor, I pop each knee up in rapid succession in a kind of frantic rhythm. A thin layer of sweat covers both of my palms. I feel an uneasy flutter in my chest. I’m probably chewing this piece of gum obnoxiously hard, but it keeps me from clenching my teeth.

For the umpteenth time in the last few weeks, I breathe deeply and remind myself that my body is not in any immediate physical danger, despite the physiological alarm bells. But I can’t blame it for doing what it’s doing. This is going to be hard to write about.

Next Monday at 9:00 am I will be admitted to the residential program at the OCD Institute at McLean Hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts (just outside of Boston). I’ll be living there for between 30 and 90 days, undergoing treatment for severe, treatment-resistant OCD.

There is not one certain way that a person and their support system come to the conclusion that this level of care is necessary. It’s been a long and winding road for me, as I imagine it must be for most. I applied to the program last October. Even before then, the decision to apply did not come easily. I’ve agonized over this process for nearly half a year, and now the day is arriving so imminently. It’s a lot to process.

I’m sharing this for many of the same reasons I share about most of my experiences as a person with OCD: I hope it could make a difference in someone else’s life, and frankly, I am well past the point of willingness to pretend that I’m fine, or presentable, or palatable, or just going through something right now. I’ll be the one to talk about the ugly parts and the slow progress and the reality of living with a lifelong disorder if it can create any bit of space for others to do the same without fear. And besides, it would be pretty hard to act like my life is swimming along so nicely when I am living in a hospital on the opposite side of the country.

This week, I hold my husband and my dogs close, I spend time laughing with my friends, and I soak up every moment spent in the community I’ve dug roots into over the last three years. I should probably drive to the beach too, now that I think of it. Although I’ve heard Boston is nice. And I’ll be back before long.

I’ll have my phone and laptop, so an update or two could be on the way (but no promises. Living in Exposureland is exhausting). Here’s hoping I’ll come back truer to myself.