Thoughts Intrusive and Critical: Part 1

Me and my brain, right—are like two colleagues at work who smile tightly at the other when they pass on the fourth floor corridor to the stationary cupboard. My brain is the kind of co-worker that thinks nothing of jumping the line to the photocopier or snagging the last muffin in the cafeteria. You stare at them, full to the brim with silent outrage—and if they bother to look in your direction, they shrug as if to say "What? It's what I do."

OK, maybe I was having a bit too much fun with that analogy but the point still stands—you may have an unpleasant run-in with a coworker but invariably you go home and think nothing of it, right? Not so for anxiety sufferers. I want to talk to you about self critical and intrusive thoughts. And how they used to run my life.

I've always had an overactive imagination—great for my chosen field (playwriting and writing in general) so, much like Achilles or Sampson—great on paper, but one tiny trip and you end up in A&E. It's like that for my mind. I'm not a science buff by any means but the white matter of the brain, set to receive serotonin, a chemical usually to do with excitement and pleasure—just doesn't do it for me. Instead it made me vulnerable to panic attacks and repetitive behaviour synonymous with Obsessional Compulsional Disorder.

So, that's a pretty big thing to put out there—and it sounds mad science-y and unrelateable—but a big part of my coping and managing my anxiety etc was understanding just how often we all come face to face with it. Take for example, you're waiting at the station for a train. You are on your own, a bit bored perhaps, and your mind is wondering. You hear, finally the rumble of the train approaching and settle into a stance ready to get on it—and that's it—that moment there where we all, for like 1/8th of a second think "What would happen if I jumped?"

What if.

Not What Will.

Not What When.

It's very important to state that this is, despite appearances not at all a sucidical instinct. Far from it—it's a human one—a bit of the fight/flight and a dash of our natural curiosity. It just happens. It's natural. It does not last. It is merely intrusive—and you are able to chase the intruder with a wave of a bat and a short threat from your door with ease and step onto the train, the whole process of slamming the door on the unwanted thought over in under a second.

For anxiety or OCD sufferers, it's a different story. For the non-sufferer, 'if' means just that—a possibility, able to be measured in relevancy, and usually found lacking. For a person with a disorder, the tiny inch 'if' takes is a momentous mile.

In short, 'if' means 'when.'

Two people, a sufferer and a non-sufferer have the same thought on the same platform at the same second. One has dismissed before it's arrived, the other is watching with horror as the intrusive thought, dressed as a cat burglar sits down in front of the fire in your favourite armchair, muddy boots on your rug. It can seem like a sufferer of intrusive thoughts is more away with the fairies than most, but really they're negotiating with their lack of serotonin to please go easy on them, and let them get on the train, free of worry.

Of course you can't see any of this going on as you view these two people. No one wants to look, for want of a better word 'mad'—something anxiety sufferers will have perfected over time with a mask (it gets tiring to be asked if you're ok all the time, or why you always look scared) but there is an answer, a way to fight back that doesn't require medicine or any altering drug of any sort—and it comes in the form of a Rocky Balboa montage.

Stay with me on this.

Cognitive pathways in your brain can lead to an Established Thought—sometimes this works in your favour if you have a kind mind that chooses to tell you you're great all the time, but we're not all so lucky. If the neurological thought has a easy pathway to an intrusive thought, the neurone consider this 'normal' and bombard you with it every hour off the day and night. It can be as simple as 'that light's not off' or 'you definitely left the stove on' or darker like 'if you don't do it, someone will be hurt' or 'do it to keep them alive.' Held hostage like this, OCD thrives on whatever repetitive behaviour is instilled in you. You repeat the action again and again (for me, it was taps. I would turn them off and on to make sure they were off. It never worked, and it became entangled with doing it an even number of times, blinking in synchronicity, you name it) and it took over my life.

But all is not lost. You do not need to medicate. You need to talk. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy saved me. In all honesty. Once it was explained to me, how it wasn't just me, how science was involved, how it was reversible, the weight taken off me—I can still feel it now. The trick is, to trick your mind back. Let that cognitive pathway become overgrown and stick a 'Do Not Pass' sign in front of it—see it? In your mind's eye, with a piece of rough wood and big white painted words on it.

That's it—that's how you manage it. Visualisation. Whenever an intrusive thought hit me, I would envisage a stop sign. Simple, you see them everywhere, you understand it. You flash it at the thought until you can distract yourself away from the intrusive thought and repetitive action. Get creative with it—I imagined white gloved hands in a spotlight, a-la Peter Gabriel's seminal Sledgehammer video with the Aardman team. These hands swept away the garbage in front of them, time and time again, swoosh, swoosh until I could recognise the thought forming and stop it pre-emptively. I broke the neural pathway, and re-routed the negativity to the waste basket. I was happier and healthier than I have ever been.

In short I became an impulsive thought ninja.

Bow! Wham! Bosh!

There wasn't one thought I didn't beat back with a scissor kick or judo chop and I was feeling on top of the world, and crucially, drug free. Small point here: I don't mean to be down on medication, but unless the problem affects the safety of yourself and others, talking out the 'rationale' of the intrusive thought to see implausibility of the intrusive thought, it really works. For me, it was to do with family safety, and feeling I had to 'protect' them by flicking a switch 1,000+ times—saying that out loud breaks the spell. It sounds ridiculous, it looks ridiculous and you realise it. Simple talking cure. Did wonders. And on this new regimen of super quick battles with the intrusive thoughts, I was cured, right?

Well, we forget don't we? Life happens.

My intrusive thoughts couldn't handle that. My brain wanted to know the danger at all times, and eradicate it—it also was convinced it had already happened and my worst fears felt confirmed 10,000 a day, when nothing of the sort had occured. When it does though, that's when you have to call on all your reserves and fight hard. Someone in my family fell ill. Everything was wrong. I had to stay strong, focused, on top of it, functioning, but the old demons were calling on me to collapse into myself again, taking me away from the people I loved, and dealing with the situation rationally.

I'm glad to say I was only knocked off my perch a few times; and with regular therapy, non-cognitive, I remembered my training. We got through it, and I survived. My family member got better and crisis was averted. If it hadn't have been for the cognitive behavioural therapy however, I really don't want to think of what might have happened. I faced my worst fear and I stayed afloat. I have the NHS and the trained therapists to thank for that. And I am so grateful. In my country of Britain, the NHS have just revealed new programmes and funding for mental health, so we'll see if the issue of mental illness is finally being taken into account. In the meantime: share—even if its just with you in a book, one rainy afternoon with a friend or parent over a cup of tea or a professional, nothing you say is stupid or silly. You matter. And you will be heard.

Please don't think this is one massive ad for cognitive behavioural therapy—I just wanted to let sufferers know out there (roughly 1 in 5 people suffer from OCD, depression or anxiety; and as we know, intrusive thoughts are universal) that if you don't like taking pills from an overstuffed, over-moneyed industry, there is another way, even for those in deep like me, who'd been suffering from OCD tendencies at least from the age of seven. Seek help. Pay for therapy if you have to—it really is a small price to pay for a richer, fuller, anxiety free life. You're not alone, there are so many more of us then you think - and most importantly, you're not mad. You're suffering, but there is a cure.

Good luck.

See you for Part II—where The Great British Bakeoff plays a big part. Come on now. You don't wanna miss that.

Much love,

J x