The chicken or the egg...

I think this is one of those great debate questions, "which came first the chicken or the egg?" I am certain I have a predisposition to have OCD. OCD is the great family curse. I used to spend every summer with my grandmother and grandfather. I remember my grandmother getting very frustrated with my grandfather for, what I realize now, a compulsion and out of pure exasperation she said "every one of you is crazy and if I had all the money in the world I get you all the help you need!" She wasn't trying to be cruel. I could see how his behavior after 50 something years would wear thin. I recognized in him what I wasn't never able to see in myself. But, having a predisposition for something doesn't mean you will develop the condition. So, is it nature or nurture that has lead me to this situation? It's probably a bit of both.

I was not an easy baby. It wasn't until I was in high-school that it was discovered that my blood had been typed wrong as an infant. I am rh negative, my mother is rh positive. It's a miracle that I even survived. When your born your mother's blood remains for some time, so her blood in my veins is what tested as rh positive. I had a "was I switched at birth" moment in my pediatrician's office after giving blood at school and getting the blood type on my donation card from the Red Cross. This came only after I was sure they made a mistake and someone would die as a result. My mother, brother, and anyone in the family are all rh positive. I am not. I am the walking embodiment of the recessive trait. I am not quite sure what having rh positive blood does to a person with rh negative cells... but I can tell you from high school biology class, it's really not good. I was not a well baby. I cried a lot. I tortured my mother. She was really young and had difficulty coping. By her own admission, she was nervous. 

She would try to put me down to nap or sleep and I would cry. I would cry and scream until I was picked up. No one was getting rest. My pediatrician, an older man, told my mother to let me scream it out and I would learn to self soothe and give up. This lead to me screaming until I would vomit all over myself. My mother, being a good mother, would take me out of the crib to bathe me and change my bedding. The pediatrician decided I was being manipulative and I was vomiting on purpose so I could be removed from the crib; I needed to stop being rewarded. His instructions were to leave me in the crib no matter what. So my mother would bring a bucket of water to the crib to bathe me and would move me from side to side to change the sheets under strict instruction not to remove me from the crib. This was doctor sanctioned abuse. I often wonder if my core fear of abandonment is rooted here. It was a different time. My parents were never intentionally trying to do anything wrong. 

When I was moved into a big girl bed I would leave my bed every night and crawl into bed with my parents. My parents had a full size bed, my dad is 6'6" and my mom was heavily pregnant with my brother. There was no room for me. The pediatrician told my mother that if I tried to get into bed with them to walk me back to my room each time. So, that's what they did. I'm sure the frustration was difficult for them. My brother wasn't like this. He made it much easier to like him. 

In college I studied a lot of psychology. I learned about the effects on the brain to allow an infant to scream without intervention until they vomit. My brain was developing with adrenaline and fear hard wired in. Any predisposition for anxiety related disorders was being reinforced by the nurture of ignoring my needs. I have been ignoring my needs ever since. 

Please don't get me wrong, I don't blame anyone for any of this. Well, maybe the pediatrician, but even he was using the methods of the times. My parents were doing the best they could. Who would have imagined that any of this would lead to where I am now. I've had ample opportunity to improve but, didn't. You simply don't know what you don't know. Cat would say, maybe or maybe not. I'm going to try to not ruminate on this. By not engaging in the compulsions, I am finding peace... it isn't found... it's a work in progress.

I'm still waking up in the middle of the night with the runaway train of rumination in my brain. The racing and speed of thoughts swirling leaves me tired all day. The CBD silenced this, but it wasn't allowing me to feel enough to do my ERP effectively. There has to be a middle ground. My thoughts go to compulsive exercising. That silenced my brain too. 

I need to figure this out. Welcome to my brain. 

-Alice