Happiness Overload

Happiness Overload

When I was little, I had a POO-CHI robot dog that, whenever I played too much with it, would enter a “happiness overload” mode where it would sing and make a variety of noises as it scooted around my kitchen.

When I met the actors for the four hobbits at Fan Expo Chicago recently, I had the same reaction.

The Lord of the Rings movies have been my longest-lasting positive obsession and the first thing I clung to when my psychiatrist told me, “You’re always going to be obsessing about something. Why not pick something you enjoy?”

The idea was revolutionary to me. Not only that I could pick what I thought about, but also, I could have obsessive thoughts that weren’t bad or something to try to eliminate? I felt like I spent most of my life trying to stop myself from obsessing and receiving this permission to work with what was already going on in my head instead of trying and constantly failing to stop it was life-changing.

Overnight, I allowed myself to sink into the Lord of the Rings movies like nothing before. I gave myself permission to obsess, and even though it was a rocky road, the movies were always there for me and I always felt a sense of safety when I put in another DVD.

When I had my first opportunity to meet an actor from the movies in 2018, I felt a sense of delight that led to me literally sobbing with happiness as I stood in line. I felt like I was meeting a huge part of my childhood and told him as much - and he was incredibly kind and told me all sorts of fun stories about filming.

Four years later, I found myself in line to meet not one, but all four of the actors who played the hobbits - the main characters - in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I met Sean Astin at a No Shame On U event in 2019 and was so excited I counted down the days for weeks, but meeting him as well as Elijah Wood, Dominic Monaghan, and Billy Boyd seemed to be too wonderful at once.

I saved money so I could do the backstage pass, which included front-row seating at their panel, autographs from all four of them, and a photo with all four of them. I was so excited that I counted down the days for months on end, and could hardly sleep or get anything else done when it was time to head to the convention.

Somehow, my favorite moment was not any of the ones I’d paid for or expected. It ended up being so much more.

You see, a week before the convention, the organizers offered an opportunity to create and submit a 30-second video telling the hobbits what they and the Lord of the Rings movies mean to you. I spent a while crafting mine, where I shared how LotR and the journey of the hobbits helped me through my initial diagnosis with OCD and have kept me afloat ever since.

I was utterly unprepared to see my face fill the screen that night. My video was the only one chosen from Chicago, shown in segments in its entirety, and my “you didn't just carry the ring to Mordor, you carried me” was the last thing the hobbits saw and heard before they came on stage.

In that moment, as people around me nudged me and messages poured into my phone from people who I didn’t even know were in the room, I felt so overwhelmed that my feelings couldn’t even keep up. I wasn’t happy or thrilled or ecstatic, I was beyond being able to put words on the sense of pride that these movies got me to the point where I am now and I was able to share my story and help others.

I knew I was helping others because people told me so - people with anxiety who came up to me afterward and told me that they were inspired by my words. It was the cherry on top of a perfect experience that ended with photos, autographs, and memories I will cherish for the rest of my life.

That night, I felt “happiness overload” like never before. My positive obsessions have always made me happier than anything else can, but this was a whole new level I had never experienced before and don’t know if I can until I go on my planned New Zealand trip next year. It’s impossible to explain, but it felt so wonderful to know that even though my OCD has caused me immense pain throughout my life, it has also enabled me to feel these moments of pure, unadulterated joy.

Ellie, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

Peanut Butter's Not That Complicated

Peanut Butter’s Not That Complicated

Or is it? I found myself thinking more about peanut butter than I ever had before when the recent JIF recall made me look beyond my usual brand.

As my OCD is very rules-based, the food I eat needs to follow a variety of rules. Even if a food is something I consider safe - something that won’t trigger any thoughts that I might get sick - there are still rules about eating it, primarily that it needs to be familiar.

This means I have trouble going to a new restaurant even if I plan to order the same dishes I always do. And with store-bought foods like peanut butter, I always buy the same brand regardless of price, and if one store is sold out, I’d rather go to another store than buy from a different brand.

When the recall happened, I checked my peanut butter jar and realized that mine was among the recalled serial numbers. Even though I’d eaten from the jar that same week without getting sick, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do so again now that I knew about the recall. I decided to go to Mariano’s, read through the serial numbers of all the JIF jars, and find one that hadn’t been recalled.

To my surprise, all of the JIF jars were missing. Not just the creamy (the only texture of peanut butter I find remotely appealing), but everything was gone. There was an empty, gaping spot in the shelves surrounded by jars of peanut butter from every other brand, explained by a piece of paper pinned to the shelf.

My brain decided that was the perfect time to get anxious. In the middle of the peanut butter aisle in Mariano’s, not when I’m alone or in a good place to process. In the middle of the aisle, where other people were able to shop normally and that started a whole wave of my usual “you’re not normal” negative thoughts that keep coming back no matter how hard I fight them.

The coping mechanisms I thought of to ensure the peanut butter was safe wouldn’t work. I couldn’t compare the ingredients from JIF to other brands, since none of the JIF jars were there. I couldn’t go by what my family members use, since they had uncontaminated JIF jars. I couldn’t think of anything else in the moment, and reading labels while trying to distinguish the brands just started to stress me out.

And to add insult to injury, I was thinking a lot about my late dog, who always “tested” any peanut butter I was going to eat, and I started missing him as I grabbed a Kroger brand jar at random and headed for the checkout.

The unopened jar of Kroger peanut butter sat in my apartment for over a week before I took it out and decided to give it a chance. I opened the jar, smelled it, and noticed it looked just like the peanut butter I was used to. Still, though, I decided to wait to eat it.

I knew how stupid it was to be scared of peanut butter. But at the same time, I couldn’t just turn off my fear at will. In the end, it took a surprise visit from my friend Olive for me to get brave enough to actually try some of the peanut butter - with company.

I asked Olive to try it with me so that I wouldn’t chicken out again or overthink things, which was an inevitability if I was left to my own devices. When we tried it together, I felt supported and cared for, especially since she didn’t make me feel bad for asking her such a strange request.

“Would you eat peanut butter with me?” is not a typical question, but the fact that Olive was willing to help me meant so much. Even such a small gesture reminded me that I’m not alone, and even if my friends don’t have the same mental health condition(s) as me, they have empathy and are willing to do things like this even if they don’t understand why it’s so hard for me to try a new brand of peanut butter.

The Kroger brand, as we found out, is slightly runnier than the JIF, but has the same taste. I’m probably going to end up buying JIF for my next jar. But for now, I’m proud to even take this very small step to opening my culinary world.

Ellie, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

Just What I Needed

Just What I Needed

I’ve cried so much in the last couple of weeks. Somehow, in such a short time span, I lost my beloved D&D group that I’ve been playing with for almost 3 years and was broken up with in a surprising and cruel way - not to mention that I’m worried about my mom who recently had major foot surgery and still not super happy with the results of a recent procedure on my nose.

I didn’t know what to do when faced with all of this. I tried so many things, mostly involving distracting myself and not being alone, but I still felt angry, resentful, and liable to burst into tears at any given moment.

I decided, after trying and failing to meet with several friends, that I needed to be the one to solve this problem myself - but what could break through so many negative emotions at once? I started to think of things that would make me happy in the future - books, video games, vacation, and the like - and put them on a list. The closest thing was the release of a video game towards the end of June, but in the meantime, I wallowed in self-pity and had no clue how to get out.

And then, I found out that a demo of the game was released a couple of weeks early. I normally wouldn’t let myself play part of a game before I could access the entire thing, but I figured this had to be the time for relaxing my rules. After all, I tried everything else that could make me feel better, to no avail. It was worth a shot.

So, as I hid inside my closet from a tornado warning, I booted up my Nintendo Switch and started to play the demo of Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes.

I knew, right away, that I would have no patience for the storylines I didn’t like. As soon as there was a choice within the plot, I chose to follow my favorite character - someone I picked out many years ago for surviving significant medical trauma and also managing to be a badass at the same time. The battle style of the game was easy enough that I could just fall right in even though my head was in no place for sophisticated strategy.

The first two battles went pretty okay. By the third, I was surprised to see that the story was changing direction in a most pleasant way. The more I clicked through, it was like someone at Nintendo had asked me what I wanted to see in the story and they’d written it exactly like that. It was like a fanfiction come to life, and I couldn’t help but smile as I saw that the third battle was going to take place in an area of the game I’d wanted to play with for a long time: the palace.

Instead of focusing on strategy, I ran my character all around the map of the palace, getting increasingly happy as I made mental notes of where everything was. Indoor and outdoor gardens, how fancy - and the throne room that had only been in the first game for a minute, and a waterfall that looked and sounded real… Oh, and here’s a “Chamber of the Eagle,” that’s such a cool name for a room!

In my short time playing the demo, I found the fairness and control I felt like my real life lacked lately. I got to see my favorite characters - who live with mental illness and trauma just like me - emerging victorious. And all of this set to an amazing soundtrack with beautifully written dialogue sent me over the edge.

For the first time since my D&D group ended - the impetus that started all of this - I started crying happy tears.

In that moment, the happiness was stronger than the sadness. I could feel my old, familiar urge to reach out to others who love this series like I do and read fanfiction until I go cross-eyed and prepare my wig for this year’s DragonCon. For the first time since all of this happened, I felt like myself again - all thanks to my positive obsession with the Fire Emblem: Three Houses universe.

Just like my other positive obsessions, I didn’t know that it would start when it did. I didn’t know it would last as long as it has. But I know that, at least for now, this is something that makes me happy - happier than I would have thought was possible - and it renewed my faith that even if my brain was causing me pain, it also provided me the perfect way to get out of it.

As I played through the rest of the demo, the positive and negative emotions came out that needed to - and as I sit here writing this, I feel like I’ve taken many steps on my way back to my normal self. In the end, it turns out my OCD was just what I needed.

Ellie, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

You Don’t Need To “Get It” To Get It

You Don’t Need To “Get It” To Get It

I regretted the message almost as soon as I sent it.

It’s just that I was so excited, so eager about a new fanfiction writing challenge - my first story in a long time not related to mental health advocacy, just something for fun - that I wanted to tell people all about it.

Most of the things I’m interested in, I’m able to share with other people. My friends enjoy seeing my cosplays, swapping recommendations for nerdy books and video games, and finding our next binge-worthy TV show. But I know that none of my friends are interested in Lord of the Rings like me, so I am usually determined to not share.

The only problem is, this is my fifth year participating in this fanfiction challenge, and it always makes my summer so much more fun to have a new story percolating in my head. For once, I wanted to try to share this joy with people - and so, I sent a message to my close friend Olive telling her about the story.

But in my excitement, I’d forgotten that she once told me that her first impression of me was that I knew too much about Lord of the Rings and might not want to be friends with her because she didn’t know. I thought of the fact that we have safe conversation topics that we both like, and that I shouldn’t want or need more than that.

In the end, though, I do need more than that sometimes. I sometimes need to share my joy with something that other people aren’t interested in, and throughout my life, I’ve tried to figure out how to share this with other people. It’s complicated, though - since I don’t want to push anyone away by being considered pushy, annoying, or weird.

I wished I could take back the message to my friend in the moment, and even more so after I saw that she read it but didn’t reply. I was embarrassed at showing my interest too openly, and at the same time, I wished I could do it even more. It’s a paradox that I know all too well, but thankfully, I was heading to bed soon, so I didn’t have too much time to sit around and think about it.

The next morning, I was pleasantly surprised to wake up to a message from Olive. She said that she didn’t know exactly what I was talking about (not a surprise, since I’d filled my initial message with details about characters and settings she didn’t know), but she created her own interpretation of my message and sent it back to me.

She sent me a Photoshopped picture of a romance novel (right on that, since I said it was a romance story) with elf ears added to the characters (right again, and always a safe bet, since elves tend to be my favorite characters). She’d added an emu to the background - which I find entertaining since I always include an emu in any work I write for the stage - and she scribbled my name on the cover.

As soon as I saw the picture, I couldn’t be happier.

It didn’t matter to me that she didn’t understand much about the characters. It didn’t matter to me that the Photoshop job was a little sloppy. The only thing that mattered was that she tried to understand and support what I was talking about because she knew how important it was to me.

When she came over later that day, she told me she’d been brushing up on her Lord of the Rings knowledge in case I ever wanted to talk about it. She was considering reading The Silmarillion for the same reason, and asked me if I had any tips about how to approach the generally intimidating book.

I was beyond honored that she would want to do something like that for me - especially when it feels sometimes like I’ve spent my whole life having to be interested in things “normal” people are interested in. To have someone go out of the way to accommodate an interest of mine made me feel seen and loved, and I told her as much while squishing her in a hug.

And then, just like it should be in friendships, I did things for her. I tried on clothes with her in a mock fashion show and watched clips from British comedians who I’ve never heard of. And we found common ground in a British comedy show with one of my favorite actors from the Lord of the Rings movies.

As a child, I never thought I’d get to have friendships where any effort would be mutual. I got so used to hiding my own interests and pretending to be interested in other people’s that it was such a relief to find a friendship where I don’t have to do that.

I’ve saved the picture - weird Photoshop and all. I’m going to keep it on my phone as a reminder that even when I am afraid of being weird or “too much,” there are people who love me for exactly who I am.

Ellie, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

A Teddy Bear In a Plastic Bag

A Teddy Bear In A Plastic Bag

When I realized I would have to get a medical procedure that would likely bring back old trauma, I immediately wondered what coping mechanisms would get me through it.

I knew that this would be a difficult choice, since the procedure is being done while I’m awake. If it was being done under anesthesia or some other way of altered consciousness, there wouldn’t be as much of a need - but since I was traumatized by three surgeries I had while I was awake ten years ago, I find myself needing something more than the run-of-the-mill coping mechanisms I rely on for everyday things.

It’s hard to explain to doctors why I need a coping mechanism. I’ve found that mental and physical health are often separated to the point that only one of them matters at a time, and during a medical procedure for physical health, mental health is shoved aside. No doctor would knock me out simply because of my fear or my past experiences, and with the procedure happening on my face, there is no way for me to avoid what’s going to be happening literally right under my nose.

It thus fell to me to come up with a solution that would take care of my mental health at a time that would be triggering for me while still obeying the doctors’ instructions.

I first thought of the things that usually work best for me. My usual favorite coping mechanism for potentially triggering situations is not being alone, but thanks to the hospital’s COVID policy, I’m not allowed to bring anyone past the waiting room. I can have a friend waiting for me outside, but not in the procedure room - which will be the most frightening part. So, after securing a friend to stay in the waiting room, I began to think of what might work during the procedure itself.

My Nintendo Switch is too big, and I won’t be able to see it if my face is being operated on. Same goes for my phone, which is frowned upon in these settings anyway. I’ll try to bring headphones so I can listen to music, but there’s no guarantee the doctor will let any sort of technology in the room. It seemed to me that technology isn’t a solution for this particular situation.

I decided to branch out and get creative, trusting in my years of experience coping with a variety of things to find a technology-free solution. I quickly dismissed books for the same reason as my Switch - I won’t be able to see the pages if the doctor is standing between me and the book - and then I thought of the fact that I was likely to bleed during the procedure and didn’t want to stain a book.

I then realized that I hadn’t even thought of my favorite coping mechanism - but at first, I thought it would never work.

I’ve had Puffy - a pink Gund Snuffles teddy bear - since I was six weeks old. He’s been with me through everything in my life, and even though it’s been nearly thirty years, he still has most of his stuffing, even if his fur is rather short. The texture of his remaining fur, the smooth eyes and button nose, and even the stitches from the many, many “operations” he underwent to reattach said nose are all incredibly comforting to me.

The only problem is, Puffy can’t be washed by the machines in my apartment building. They’re industrial size and strength, and I don’t trust that they would leave such an old and very-loved toy intact. Since I was afraid of staining him and not being able to wash him until my next visit home, I almost dismissed him as a solution until I came up with an idea that I knew would work.

Thanks to years of me sleeping with Puffy cradled in my arms every night, he is significantly smaller than he was when my parents first bought him for me - which means that he can fit inside of a large Ziploc bag. If I seal him inside, I can have the comfort of my favorite teddy bear who has been with me my whole life and not feel alone during the procedure, and if I bleed during the procedure, there is a protective layer between the blood and the bear.

As soon as I figured out that I could do this, I felt a weight lifted off of me. In situations when I know I am likely to be triggered, I often feel out of control, which makes my OCD worse. I spiral into all sorts of negative thoughts and may even start to panic - and although it’s thankfully been years since I’ve had a panic attack, I still experience panicked thought patterns and my heart rate soars.

Bringing Puffy might not be in any sort of pre-op instructions, but I know that when I have him there, I will know that something is in my control. I won’t know if any of the horrible things I picture whenever I think of medical procedures will happen, but thanks to a suggestion from my therapist, I know that if I can control even one thing in a stressful or scary situation, I feel immensely better.

The procedure is tomorrow, and I’ve left out a Ziploc plastic bag next to my medical paperwork. I might not be able to control whether or not I bleed, how many needles go into my face or anywhere else, or if my worst fear about the procedure will come true. I don’t know how much it’ll hurt or how long it’ll take me to heal. But I do know that when I have to leave my friend in the waiting room, I won’t be entirely out of control when I go back for the procedure - and that’ll make all the difference for my mental health.

 Ellie, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.