Superstition Ain’t the Way

“Mom, am I going to be sick today?”

Those words were the development of a new habit, adding to the already arduous ritualistic system I built in my mind as an 8-year-old third grader. If I didn’t ask my mom this question before I stepped out of the car and said my farewells, facing a new day at elementary school, then I would definitely get sick. “No, you’ll be fine,” she always replied automatically and with an indifferent tone, now accustomed to my worrisome quirks.

But one day the inevitable happened.

I remember it vividly. Fourth grade. I tiredly walked into the bathroom and turned on the water to take a shower. As I stood in the shower, I found the palm of my hand propped against the wall, a dizziness in my head and a blur in my vision. I felt so. tired.

But as a child whose body-awareness was still under development, I got ready for school and went on my way. Before leaving the car, I asked my mom the same question. I got the same reply. Well, I did my ritual, so I can’t be sick. There’s no way.

I could barely keep my eyes open in class. Lethargy invaded my whole being. But I couldn’t be sick. No way.

I walked into the bathroom with a gaggle of friends. (Little girls always seem to go to the bathroom in cliques. Even as a participant, I still don’t understand why. Social conditioning?)

As soon as I stood in the doorway, I puked. A lot. Though I’m sure I had a look of horror due to the social implications of my involuntary actions, I felt immediate relief. Along with my breakfast, the extreme tiredness left my body.

The Aftermath

I remember sitting in the nurse’s office, waiting for my mom to pick me up early. A kid was sitting there with a tissue stuffed into his bleeding nose. “What’re you in for?” he asked, as though we were inmates, committing adventurous crimes.

“I puked,” I responded, with a weird sense of pride in the novelty of my experience. Well, novel in that it shook up an otherwise mundane and bland day at school.

It would be later, perhaps hours or days, that my mind knitted together the meaning behind this event. The truth that unfolded after I got sick: my superstitions couldn’t keep me safe.

The Realization

I get a small tinge of tightness in my abdomen, even as I type this 16 years later. This realization that my mom’s words couldn’t protect me. My worrying couldn’t protect me (many OCD patients believe if they don’t worry about something, their worst thoughts on that thing will come to fruition). These rituals were naught but a thin reassuring veil. The reality was, if I am to get sick, I will get sick.

As a child with severe anxiety and OCD, this was crippling to me (almost as crippling as carrying the weight of superstition to begin with). What or who could protect me?

It was in these times that I would I find myself drawn back to God. That was literally the only way I could settle my mind, at least briefly, and relax. To breathe. My mind enjoys taking the abstract and bringing it to life with a visual. This has both positive and negative implications. I can imagine the worst scenarios, and they will spring to life in my mind. A horror film I can’t shield my eyes from.

But it can also provide peaceful relief. Constantly fearful of burglars as a child, I considered every creak or rustle I heard at night a possible threat. Sleep eluded me often. When I was in the space of drawing nearer to God, though, I would imagine a circular realm of light – God’s protection – encompassing my home. And it did the trick: I could peacefully sleep.

The Power of Belief

I suppose my concluding thoughts are this: the mind and its beliefs are powerful. Given my background, I’ve long been aware of that power, which would often frighten me. I knew the power of words, and if spoken could come to fruition. But what if you have uncontrollable thoughts or speak words of fear based on your anxiety disorder? That would stress me out all the more; a vicious cycle of worry.

I’m now learning how this power isn’t something to hide from at all. And to practice self-compassion. I’m striving toward maintaining intentional and healthy beliefs. And once established, continually checking and practicing them, else I stray. This includes my belief in God, worldview, my potential, and the ways I know I will make an impact. And for those beliefs I carry that aren’t healthy (like superstition for fourth grade Shannon), I am aiming to release them.

Easier said than done, right? Worrying, anxiety, and OCD are shadows I’ve never wanted, but I have known I can always rely on. They’ve always been there. I’ve been able to shine more light on these shadows, especially in the last few months, which minimizes their size. But they still follow me. Because I now see the mind/belief as a journey, I know a relapse does not equate defeat but presents an opportunity for further growth.

Perhaps these shadows will follow me indefinitely. Perhaps I can rewire that part of my brain completely. But in the meantime, I’m not going to worry about it. 😉

Peace and love,

smb