About

Sometimes, we can't help but marvel at the wonders and terrors our own minds can create over time. My art is an expression of my continual developing sense of self; my art is a wise seer into my own mind I'm learning to understand, which now includes my diagnosis of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. The paintings to the right all deal thematically with this situation, even before I was consciously aware of them! I write this story in hopes that the reader can understand my point of view, my art, and above all, gain insight into his or her own mind. 

In my mid-20s I developed serious struggles with depression and anxiety, nearly crippling me for years, whose causes were unknown for five years until I was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Doubt and control are central to OCD: they are the engine that propel us through endless attempts to perfect a process we don't even believe we can accomplish. One could imagine how enough doubt and the subsequent compulsion to control can create a vicious cycle leading to complete emotional defeat. 

One can also imagine how hard it was for me to even accept that my fears and compulsions were not reality because I had lived in them for so long while being functional: I received a B.F.A and M.A. becoming the most educated person in my family, I was working several jobs, learning new hobbies, and having genuine moments of happiness. I also didn't have the famous symptoms of OCD like hand-washing or re-checking locked doors. OCD had not taken over my life--I barely knew what it was. I believed I was a naturally somewhat anxious/apprehensive person with insecurity, but are those not common traits? I realized I felt somewhat stymied and unable to achieve my goals, but I had my whole life ahead of me to do those things. I was normal, right?

This view of myself shattered after I withdrew from an antidepressant prescribed for pain, and uncovered the fact that everything was, indeed, not copacetic. The experience rattled me to my core. Immediately, within the year, I had dissolved. I was in psychiatric wards desperately seeking answers, compulsively searching for ways to escape my torment. I tried many medications, TMS, ECT, and even ketamine therapy. I spent almost five years believing I was suffering from withdrawal of a medication, making progress, but again, stymied spiritually by the injustice of it all, and not responding to any of my treatments. 

During this time, I made some art, but felt it was just a shadow of what I was capable of; I found it hard to focus. Still, it felt better to at least be doing it. This dynamic, of being unhappy with ourselves but feeling propelled to continue trying, is really the core of most mental illness in my opinion. We know there is a true self trying to make us well and show us the path towards greatness, but there is a false self in the way. Unfortunately, being in a state of mental illness clouds the ability to see things clearly,  but does not cloud the ability to feel as if things are generally going very badly. One could imagine how frustrating this is. 

Years later and more functional, now in my thirties, I received my diagnosis and it all began to make tragic sense. I spent a long time trying to figure out what happened to me, stuck in an OCD spiral trying to find the truth to something that never seemed to satisfy me. What really happened? And why do the answers I find not seem to satisfy? I constantly doubted my actions (obsession) and dug further into explanations (compulsions) until slowly realizing the pattern at last. 

Coming to terms with reality was not possible without the strong support of my family, mindfulness, and self-compassion. I consider these essential tools in any person's life, mentally ill or not, a fact that truly unites us all. Buddhist philosophy, which can be seen in some of my art pieces, also presented a way to understand suffering: that it is impermanent (just as all events) and caused by self-grasping. 

The most important piece of this story is that recovery from disordered thinking is a more exquisite process than words can describe. It involves a very difficult process of becoming, in many ways, the person one always was and is, which paradoxically involves a lot of radical change. When one realizes what he or she has been missing, the world seems like such a different place: everything increases in value, from random strangers to the color of grass, to the value of accomplishments. There is satisfaction even in pain, because suffering somehow seems like an ordinary part of the process. 

Recovery also takes a long time, and it is a process I look forward to. One may ask if I hate my OCD, but I don't think anyone can truly move on from an event if they still hate it. I don't believe my OCD has a desire to hurt me; in fact, it is trying desperately to help me, as is all behavior in a very primitive, evolutionary sense. I just seek to help myself in a way that is more true to the person I am: confident, capable, and passionate. In a way, I am thankful for OCD, because it caused me to realize how much capability I have as a person. Will I live with OCD for the rest of my life? This is a question that I most sincerely no longer need to answer, not just because I am not afraid of OCD, but because the present moment is truly the most important part of being alive. 

As someone who has suffered tremendously with severe mental illness, I can attest that mostly it is extremely misunderstood, and people end up receiving sub-par or no treatment for many years. What is most baffling, however, is not the severity of certain cases of mental illness, but the ability for the mind to adapt and individuals to find themselves in a place even better than they had ever known. Sometimes this means a return to themselves, and other times, uncovering who they were all along. 

For a given individual struggling with an OCD diagnosis, I would say there are certain overarching traits to develop, and I would encourage seeking an OCD specialist. These may seem trite, but such traits are startlingly effective:

• Self-compassion: This helps us not only heal but succeed; it is the ultimate salve. Self-compassion allows us to be in harmony with ourselves despite constant setbacks.

• Mindfulness: Observing the present moment, despite a racing mind or rumination. This allows for greater connection to ourselves, others, and our surroundings. 

All artists find themselves in their art, even if they don't at first realize it. I once read that our hobbies not only elicit interest from us, but also are interested IN us. I seek to look into art and see its perspective, just as I seek for harmony in all endeavors.