Shocked and upset, I was trapped because I couldn't un-think it.
And so unwanted thoughts kept a-popping in my head for pretty much most of middle and high school. I hated these thoughts, hated myself for thinking such atrocities - you name it, it's probably flown in my head. And I was so disgusted at myself, at my apparent lack of self-control.
So I prayed about the thoughts, but they kept coming. Randomly, without warning.
So I prayed more.
And more.
Speaking of praying, good heavens, why was I only thinking of my problems? What about my friends and family? What about everyone, for that matter, even the people I glimpsed on the street - surely they needed prayer, too.
So I made a list, an ever-growing list, and then memorized most of it. I repeated names of people and situations over and over to God, every night or morning. If I sped through the list without thinking, I'd make myself go back, repeat it slower. I had to mean every word, because Jesus didn't like empty prayers.
I added the Lord's Prayer at the end, too, because that's how Jesus said to pray. I even went in a small bathroom and knelt and closed my eyes.
I read every word of the Bible, looked up every word I couldn't immediately define. I made sure I found meaning in every verse. (It's hard to derive meaning from temple dimensions, but I'm telling you, I tried).
Any untruth was a lie, correct? I had to tell the whole truth, every last bit, and confess every time I hadn't. Even sins I'd committed years ago, I had to confess to someone.
Eventually the urge to obsessively read the Bible and confess began to stop, when my family told me how irrational I was. Slowly, I learned to let go of my need to confess every last sin.
But the praying? I kept at it. Even when I told God I'd rather be anorexic than have Him in my life, I kept praying.
Even when I started following Christ again in college, I kept up the praying. I kept up church attendance and quiet time, especially before exams - lest God punish me for not putting Him above studying.
***
Apparently, religious OCD is a thing: scrupulosity, in fact.It sucks (I just had to say that).
But discovering the name - guys, I'm not alone. We're not alone. Funny how learning a name can shift your whole perspective.
***
I got tired of the compulsive praying, of the never-ending list. I ended it sometime mid-freshman year.And, honestly, I wasn't praying as much anymore. More sincere, yes. But much less. My pride in how much time I prayed died a quiet, painful death, replaced by still relief and stiller guilt.
Quiet times I altered sophomore year, when I became too busy to be compulsive. But, yeah, I'm still not sure if my quiet time legalism died as a pleasant side effect of my busyness, or if that busyness was a gift to kill my compulsive quiet time.
This year, due at first to depression, my church attendance and time reading the Bible became spottier and spottier. Later a combination of (admittedly) laziness and fear of returning to my compulsive rituals contributed to my spotty church attendance and briefer Bible readings.
***
I like not having these compulsions. I like freedom, fancy that. I like true connections and communication, with God and with people.But, I ask you, how do I maintain a functioning relationship with God when quiet time, praying, or reading the Bible - when church itself - reminds me of my compulsions and sometimes even induces full-blown panic attacks?
I want to keep learning about God - mentally, spiritually, physically, even. I desire God. I'm just not quite sure how to keep experiencing Him, how to reach out to Him.
Maybe I'm hoping He'll reach outside to me.
***
Hi there, God, you said he who asks shall receive. So I'm asking for you to help me, guide me, find me. Amen.
P.S. - Thank you.
Love,
Kelley
P.S. - Thank you.
Love,
Kelley
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