Brain Lock: Free Yourself From Obsessive-Compulsive Behavior

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Authors: Jeffrey M. Schwartz, Beverly Beyette
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variety of ways, some outrageous, some ludicrous. In my behavior therapy group, patients sometimes can’t help but laugh at themselves, but the disease is so painful that I have long since learned never to make light of any symptoms.
    Let me share a few more of our case histories from UCLA:
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OLIVIA
Olivia, a middle-aged homemaker, developed an obsession soon after the 1994 Los Angeles earthquake that the water in her washing machine was contaminated. She even imagined that water from the toilet was somehow pouring into the washer.
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LISA
Lisa, an X-ray technician, developed an irrational fear of lead. Because she worked around lead, it became a terrible problem. First, she imagined that her hands were contaminated, then her shoes, then anywhere that she had stepped. She began to designate “clean zones” in her home. She would warn people that she worked around lead, so they could get away from her. Washing became a time-consuming compulsion.
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LYNN
Lynn, an attractive college student, became obsessed with picking at her face, trying to rid it of imaginary flaws. She had a condition called body dysmorphic disorder, which may be related to OCD. Ultimately, she had to lower all the lights in her apartment and tape sheets of paper over the mirrors. (A similar disorder, trichotillomania, or compulsive hair pulling, may also be related to OCD.)
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KAREN
Far more typical is the case of Karen, a homemaker and former dental assistant in her early 50s. Karen is a hoarder. Her problem began as a harmless hobby early in her marriage, when she and her husband, Rob, would haunt yard sales for inexpensive treasures for their new home. Before long, Karen was bringing home useless curbside castoffs. In time, every room in their house was crammed so full of junk that it was impossible to open the doors. Even the bathtub became a dumping ground for this rubbish. So much stuff was heaped on the stove that only a single burner was usable. Only a narrow path was navigable through the living room, between trash bags and boxes stuffed to overflowing. With their sixteen cats and four dogs sometimes relieving themselves behind those piles of trash, the stench became gagging.
Karen recalls, “We were too embarrassed to invite anyone in.” There was no heat in the house because they were afraid that they would start a fire if they lit the pilot on the floor furnace. Throughout the house, there were only two sittable chairs. Appliances would break down, but Karen and Rob couldn’t get them fixed because they were terrified that a repairman might report them to the health department. They shuttered the bottoms of their windows and let the shrubs grow so no one could peek inside. Rob had lived with this mess for so long that he no longer viewed the situation as wildly bizarre. “Our home was no longer a refuge,” Karen says. “It had become a prison. We were foundering, like a sailing ship that is depending on winds that don’t come.”
For them, help came inadvertently from one of Karen’s former colleagues who dropped by unexpectedly. Karen was so humiliated that she gave up yard sales cold turkey, only to begin haunting book sales. Now Rob had to build library stacks to house all the books she brought home. Still, Karen did not seek help, fearing that she’d be committed to a psychiatric hospital. Finally, in desperation, she saw a psychiatrist who suggested that she just set up a dumpster in the driveway and purge the house. Karen wasn’t about to do that. “I could just see myself running out intothe yard, screaming and throwing myself on the dumpster and being forcibly removed to a psychiatric hospital—all in full view of my neighbors.”
Finally, after ten years of hoarding, she joined Obsessive-Compulsives Anonymous, a twelve-step program based on Alcoholics Anonymous. There she met someone who persuaded her to begin the long, hard process of cleaning out that would take years.
“My big mistake,” Karen

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