Nuts in Nederland

With the growing popularity of FaceBook, I've been able to reconnect with former classmates from high school and university, old colleagues, and friends from my childhood. I have even established new friendships.

Even being 4,000 miles away from the U.S., I feel transported back into my American life. Memories that have long been replaced with PTA meetings, staff meetings, and planning the weekly menu have been revived and relived.

To my surprise, I have learned the impression that I made on those who once were in close proximity to my everyday life years ago. While I was struggling with feeling alone and completely different from so many people, my actions were making a statement. I didn't realize how I appeared from the outside, because inside I was an insecure, lonely girl trying to feel as if I belonged and felt loved. The independence and confidence that I exuded (something my mother instilled in me) is what they saw.

We all struggle with our inner conflicts. What we project to the world can sometimes seem so strong, yet inside we feel so powerless. Never one to burden people with my problems, I am sure I kept a lot to myself. I grew up with the mentality "The only person you can depend on is yourself". And while I was too proud to ask for help, I struggled alone trying to be strong. While I really felt quite lonesome on the inside.

I was social, friendly, outgoing, yet I spent a lot of time alone. I lived on my own in college for eight years. I went to movies alone. I went to restaurants alone. I went to dance clubs alone. I liked the independence of leaving when I wanted, going where I wanted, and living as I wanted. And I also knew I had too many quirks that I would drive anyone crazy if they lived with me. I liked everything in its place and had my own system of organizing and doing things. I knew if I lived alone, I could have things my way. And I liked the idea of being completely free of any dependence on any one.

I suppose this is why it took me so long to realize that I had OCD. No one saw this part of me, because I lived alone. My husband was aware I was obsessed with housework and organizing, but I think he tolerated it because it was part of who I was. And I am sure he enjoyed always having a clean house, yet I was never able to stop and just enjoy life. We missed out on a lot, because I was never able to stop cleaning.

After a year on Zoloft, I am able to openly talk about this. I have no shame. I am just so relieved to enjoy life without the constant anxiety that I daily experienced. It is something worth sharing!

As I share my life stories with friends old and new, I realize that everyone has their own skeletons in their closets. All those people that seemed to have their shit together....they were just as messed up as I was. They had their own family disfunctions, anxiety, feelings of loneliness, and insecurities. I am, naturally, surprised to learn this, yet it doesn't seem odd or weird what they have had to overcome. We all carry our own crosses.

As we discuss these issues, the common thread is being a better person NOW so that the cycle doesn't repeat. And especially, if they are parents....making sure our children will NEVER have to live through the issues that we had to endure.

Our parents did the best they could. They made mistakes, too. Each generation wants more for their children than what they had.

Even though it took me 38 years to finally get help for my OCD, I know now that I am a better person medicated. Where I was deficient, I am whole. And I am able to give more to my children. I would have never guessed it would have taken a little pill to make things much easier inside my head. But it did. And I can be grateful that I am a better mother to my children. And they already have a much richer life than I ever had at their age.