When I was dating, I used to feel like I was condemned to blunder in impenetrable darkness. I suffered from relationship OCD, a manifestation which caused me to obsessively question and compulsively analyze and test relationships and partners, until they would crumble under the weight of my anxiety. Every relationship before I married my husband ended with a compulsive breakup. I even broke up with my future husband twice.
I knew this experience was painful and unfair to the men I was dating, but I felt powerless to discern in a more functional manner. Some dimly-recognized part of me knew I was called to discern marriage, but all the other parts that should have been martialed in service of that task were preoccupied with my crippling fear of making the wrong decision.
While the world of modern OCD research offers some information on relationship OCD, I have yet to find any attempt to apply that information the Catholic experience of vocation. Much of the brokenness in my vocational story can indeed be explained by relationship OCD; however, the unique twist for me as a Catholic was the need to discern that vocation as a calling from God. In accordance with Catholic teaching, I did not perceive my choice of state in life as a matter of self-determination; on the contrary, it seemed like the most important question of all for me, as a dependent creature of an omnipotent, purposeful Creator.
And so, I asked. And asked. And asked.
Never, up to the moment when I said my vows, did I feel like I had received a clear answer. Marriage remains the single greatest leap of faith I have ever taken. My marriage has been abundantly fruitful; but the leap itself felt a little like dying.
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When I think back to those days, my impression is of trying to run a race with my legs cut off. I would often tell people, “Look, I know you aren’t supposed to base your decision to marry people off of pure emotion, but most people’s emotions give them clues! How can I possibly marry someone when I feel numb, detached, and occasionally even experience outright aversion to them?”
Actually, this experience was not limited to my vocational discernment. I have always been indecisive. The more important the decision, the less likely I am to feel confident in my choice. If I am not vigilant, I find myself swept into an endless cycle of feverish, obsessive-compulsive analysis and deliberation, checking and testing, seeking reassurance, learning everything there is to know about my options…and never deciding. While I have come to see my ability to master a topic by consuming vast quantities of information as a strength of my brain wiring, it has a dark side. At its worst, that dark side drags others down with it, subjecting them to the whims of my own raging anxiety.
Yet I have realized that my original assessment was not so far off. I really am disconnected from my emotions. This really does undermine the normal deliberative process which comes so naturally to many. That same natural process is intended to be illuminated and informed by communication with the Holy Spirit when elevated to the level of discernment. Yet without the benefit of awareness and trust in my emotions, I find myself missing important clues about which path to follow.
One way of describing the purpose of emotions and instincts is that they are supposed to serve as signposts to our reason, helping point us in the right direction, which we can then confirm through intellectual processes. I think if you had asked me when I was younger, I would have endorsed this conceptual understanding of the relationship of reason and passions. However, my actual, lived experience was more like that of a floating intellect. I had emotions, but I did not trust them. In fact, I struggled even to interpret their messages. As both a result of my confusion and a cause of further disconnection, this would trigger a cloud of anxiety to settle over decisions.
I have come to believe that the process of spiritual discernment is meant to build on this natural deliberative process. That means that emotions are meant to play a role in discernment. St. Ignatius, one of the church’s leading voices on the subject of discernment, speaks repeatedly about consolations and desolations, offering detailed instructions which involve distinguishing if one’s emotions are from God or elsewhere. Of course, for someone with OCD, another set of rules governing emotions and spirituality will likely be impossible to apply correctly. Distinguishing the source of one’s emotions could easily become fodder for obsessive rumination and compulsive analysis. I am not suggesting that Ignatian spirituality is a cure for OCD.
My point is simply that even St. Ignatius himself acknowledges the pivotal role of emotions in the discernment process. It is a self-defeating project to try to set them aside and deliberate without them; yet, because I both misunderstood and feared my emotions, this was exactly what I tried to do when discerning my vocation.
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I have since discovered that this disconnection and inability to interpret one’s emotions (a condition which bears the clinical label, “alexithymia,”) is significantly correlated with OCD. I find this fascinating. While I have several personal hypotheses for the reasons behind this connection, it at least seems clear that I am not the only person with OCD who has struggled to connect to my emotions. In light of this deficit, I find it less surprising that I have also struggled with deliberation, decision-making, and the spiritual process of discernment.
On the other side of the coin, I have made great strides towards developing better emotional awareness in latter years.
Therapy jumpstarted the process.
Life has found ways of forcing me into situations in which my emotions refuse to remain ignored or repressed.
Writing has been a powerful creative tool for sorting out my inner experience.
Most importantly, and partly as a result of these factors, my personal, emotional connection with God has deepened.
I still struggle with decisions and discernment. The more important the decision, the greater my terror of choosing the wrong path; but I have begun to notice the subtle input of the Holy Spirit along the way. I have learned that if I ask a question, ponder and deliberate with God in prayer, and then move forward…God is with me. He guides my steps so delicately that I might not even notice His presence, if it weren’t for His peace.
Catholic and OCD 