What Would You Do if You Knew You Were Wonderful?

OCD and Learning to Trust Yourself

Those who have read Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements might remember the second agreement one must accept on the journey to personal freedom - Don’t Take Anything Personally. I was reading this chapter this morning when I got to the paragraph: “Whatever people do, feel, think, or say, don’t take it personally. If they tell you how wonderful you are, they are not saying that because of you. You know you are wonderful. It is not necessary to believe other people who tell you that you are wonderful.”¹ I considered, what would I do if I really embraced this, if I wholeheartedly accepted and lived like I was wonderful?

I’d probably sing more in public. Not for any accolades. I’m not the best, but I’m decent, and I sing for the joy of it. I’d give my opinion more, even if I knew it might be unpopular. Maybe I’d even write faster, letting the words spew out of me like the top of a waterfall - tumultuous, formidable, arresting.

I think I’d also trust myself more. In 2021, I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). It was a diagnosis that gave me great relief, after more than two years with bouts of intense panic, intrusive thoughts, and time-consuming compulsions. They call OCD the “Doubting Disorder” because with it, you don’t trust yourself, not even what you’ve just seen or experienced. OCD latches on to the things you care most about and turns them against you, making you fear that you might somehow harm yourself or the people you love most (obsessions). The way your mind tries to manage this tremendous amount of anxiety is through rituals, like thought-stopping, assurance-seeking, and checking (compulsions).

When my OCD was at its most extreme, I’d spend inordinate amounts of time reporting road debris and power lines that didn’t look right, terrified someone might get hurt. I avoided parks because I always assumed the worst when I heard kids screaming, rather than the more-likely truth that they were enjoying themselves playing tag or swinging. I remember one evening when I was working as a tutor, helping a student prepare for a psychology exam. With a gargantuan effort, I focused on the material and tried to appear calm, while internally screaming at the panic in my head. There’s more that’s harder to write about. I considered even whether to share this much, but I think it’s important; if I’d seen myself in someone else, I could’ve found peace earlier. I want that for others, too.

Three years later feels like a lifetime (and not just because of Covid and some major life events). My psychologist taught me Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) - the gold standard for treating OCD.² I learned how to release my grip on compulsions. Slowly, my tolerance for anxiety and ambiguity grew.

It goes without saying that I don’t speak for everyone with OCD. Many have far more severe symptoms than I ever did, ones that are more debilitating, harder to hide. For some, medication is an important part of their symptom-management. What I can say for myself is that today, OCD feels like a shadow in my life, a whisper of the patina that used to coat my everyday. I still experience intrusive thoughts, but I can move through my life with a little more trust and with more room to hold anxiety.

This past week, a student at my alma mater was tragically killed. I didn’t know her, but I felt grief harden in my clavicle. Yet one of my first conscious thoughts was that I didn’t deserve this grief, that I was too far removed from this tragedy to feel it, how embarrassingly sensitive of me. Then I paused.

What if, when I felt a big emotion, I could greet it with compassion and acceptance, rather than gaslighting? What if, like I learned to do with ERP, I let go of thoughts that don’t serve me, along with the need for assurance or external validation?

If I knew I was wonderful, I would move through the world not without big feelings, but instead with a whole bouquet of them. I’d let others see them without shame and would choose what to make of them without relying on others’ input. I’d hold them and say, I see you, and I am not you, and I will keep walking now.

I know I am wonderful.

I know I am wonderful.

What would you do if you knew you were wonderful?

1. Ruiz, Don Miguel, and Janet Mills. The Four Agreements, 53. Hay House, Inc, 1997.

2. For more information on OCD, ERP, and how to get help, check out NOCD and Jenna Overbaugh (@jenna.overbaugh on Instagram). These are just two of many useful resources out there and immensely helpful reminders that if you or a loved one are experiencing OCD, you’re not alone.