The Agony of OCD – A Spouse's View

As told to Chava Cohen

Reprinted with permission from Hamodia

My husband has OCD.

There’s no easy way to say it.

There must be countless women out there who are in the same situation as I am, but as far as I know, there aren’t  any support groups for us — certainly not where I live. Only someone in the same boat can understand what it means, and even then every case is different. We so desperately need to connect with others who know what we are going through, to share our feelings and exchange practical advice, but because it is not our own illness, we can’t make the decision to forgo our privacy in exchange for support. Most of our husbands would be horrified at the thought of their wives getting together to discuss their mental illness, so it remains an enormous burden which we often carry alone. We don’t even want to share our husbands’ challenges with others; don’t we all want to have a husband who is looked up to and respected?

OCD is definitely on the rise in the Orthodox world. Whether it is because we have mitzvos that must be performed according to halachah, which might lead to worries and then obsessions about fulfilling them properly, or for other reasons I’m not aware of, the incidence of OCD in our circles is growing.

If you haven’t been there, you can’t imagine the torment of hearing your husband constantly worrying about whether he is doing the right thing. It’s unbearable to see him unable to make simple decisions because in his mind all the options seem wrong, and worst of all to know that he thinks every tragedy anywhere in the world has occurred because of some spiritual error on his part. Sound ridiculous? Of course, but to the OCD sufferer these thoughts are absolutely real.

About OCD

As I understand it, in simple nonmedical terms, a person with OCD — obsessive compulsive disorder — has a sort of block in his brain. Imagine being plagued by negative or annoying thoughts and simply not being able to push them away. We all have unwanted thoughts at times, but Hakadosh Baruch Hu, in His infinite kindness, has given us the ability to “switch channels” in our minds and divert our attention from intrusive thoughts. My husband’s brain, however, doesn’t operate that way. Like the proverbial broken record, his thoughts play on and on in his brain, without letup.

In the classic example of constant hand-washing, the sufferer has the thought “My hands aren’t clean,” an obsession he can’t get rid of no matter how many times he repeats the compulsive act of washing his hands. And this is by no means the only form of OCD; for some reason, it just happens to be the most commonly recognized one.

Some people with OCD have an overwhelming need to have their possessions arranged in a certain order or to perform acts in a certain way. Others need to count to a certain number frequently, or to use numbers in everything they do — for example, eating certain amounts at fixed times. The common denominator is the thought “I must do  this or something terrible will happen,” and until they do the act in question, they cannot relax (not that anyone  with OCD is ever really relaxed).

It is most difficult when mitzvos give rise to the compulsive behavior. “Have I given enough tzedakah? Did I say Shema with kavanah? Did I remember Yaaleh V’yavo?” Again, many of us have these thoughts, but we know we have done our best and have the ability to move on. An OCD sufferer, however, finds it difficult, if not impossible, to dismiss these compulsive thoughts because the justification of wanting to do mitzvos better seems so worthy.

In the Beginning...

When we got married, as with any new couple, there were many things I had to get used to. Nobody’s perfect, and  we all have to learn to live with our spouses’ shortcomings. But as the weeks and months passed, there were more and more things my husband did that seemed too strange to be simple idiosyncrasies. He was so sweet and caring and so unfailingly polite that his odd behaviors made absolutely no sense to me.

All our careful pre-shidduch investigations had revealed only good information. Everyone said the same: the boy in question was a big masmid, very ehrlich, davened with great kavanah, and had wonderful middos. What could possibly be better? I now know that nobody was trying to cover up the illness or hide anything; everything we heard about him was absolutely true! It wasn’t apparent at the time to his family or to his mashgichim in yeshivah that many of his very positive characteristics were actually symptoms of an illness.

Take davening, for example. If a person davens very slowly, making sure he has enunciated each word properly, constantly repeating paragraphs out of fear that he has not recited them well enough and with the right kavanos, he is straddling a very fine line between piety and obsession, and it can be interpreted either way.

I have since spoken to one of my husband’s former mashgichim, from a very large, well-known yeshivah, who told me he is now much more aware of OCD and its symptoms and is better able to spot it in a bachur, but at the time,  about twenty years ago, it was a phenomenon with which he was not familiar.

As a new wife, I constantly wondered and worried, Why on earth is he always so particular about things like  eating meals at certain exact times? And if a meal isn’t ready at precisely 7:30, why is it absolutely tragic? He  didn’t get angry with me; he was simply devastated. This behavior was so out of line with his natural tendency to try to please me and to make things easy for me that I was totally confused.

Why did he absolutely have to daven in the same shul, with the same minyan, and in the same seat for every tefillah, even if it meant missing a family simchah? I knew there was an inyan to have a set place in which to daven, but was there no room for flexibility? If he woke up late and missed his regular minyan, was it better to daven at home and mope all day than simply to go to another shul? Was it so terrible to daven elsewhere? The way he reacted made me believe that it was.

Digging Deeper — Answers

Or More Questions?

Once I got to the point of managing to ask him — rhetorically — what exactly would happen if he didn’t stick to his extremely rigid routine, the answers astounded me even more than the behaviors. Apparently, my husband was utterly convinced that any tragedies that happened — to him personally or to Yidden anywhere in the world — were his fault because he had done something wrong. And doing something “wrong” was obviously according to his own set of rules.

Davening in a different shul could cause a terrorist attack in Eretz Yisrael, he told me in all seriousness.

Anyone who has not experienced manifestations of OCD will find this difficult to believe, but sadly enough, it is true. He honestly believed that these obsessional thoughts were the truth and felt it was his obligation to do what he could to prevent tragedy.

In fact, he was convinced that the tragedies of 9/11 were his fault because he had gone shopping the day before and perhaps should not have. I tried to make a joke of it and kept saying we should let President Bush know so he could stop searching for bin Laden — but it was anything but funny. I was actually sorely tempted to write to the White House and ask them to please inform my husband that the terrorist attacks had nothing to do with him.

Indecisiveness is another disturbing feature of OCD. My husband is always worrying, “How do I know what will happen if I do this? Maybe I shouldn’t do it. How do I know it’s the right thing to do?” He always needs to have me or someone else make decisions for him; if he hasn’t made the decision, then it won’t be his fault if something bad happens as a result.

As you can imagine, there is a very short road from OCD to depression and general malaise, both emotional and physical. The intrusive thoughts are so destructive that they automatically hamper general well-being and feelings

of self-worth.

Who Is a Good Wife?

This question plagues me. Am I being a good wife by covering up my husband’s odd behavior, by constantly reassuring him and complying with his requests for the amounts and types of foods that he claims are absolutely necessary for his well-being? Or am I harming him by reinforcing the OCD symptoms and allowing him to give in to them?

If he “knows” that eating lunch before 2:30 on Wednesdays will make bad things happen, should I go along with it? Should I be “a good wife” and please him, or should I insist, calmly but firmly, on eating at our usual time — because I know that’s better for him?

I had been taught that a good wife does the will of her husband; but if doing his will is actually not good for him, where does it leave me?

Take a recent example. After ordering a new hat (after a long, drawn-out “battle” to get him to agree that he deserved one), my husband was convinced that if he went to pick up the hat, something bad might happen. He felt he would be much “safer” remaining in his office and sticking to his regular routine. So he telephoned and asked me to kindly do him a favor and pick up his hat for him.

I inhaled deeply and decided to confront him. “Do you want me to fetch the hat because you don’t have the time or because the ‘little monster’ won’t let you?” (We like to refer to the OCD by this silly name since it somehow  lessens its severity.)

Thankfully, he answered honestly.

“The latter,” he said.

Another deep breath to fortify myself.

“Then if you don’t mind, I’m not picking it up for you. You know it’s for your good,” and then, to lighten up the conversation somewhat, I add, “I married you, so I am obligated to please you, but I never married the monster, so I have no obligations to him.”

Baruch Hashem, he agreed and we ended the conversation with a bittersweet laugh, but it took another week for him to pluck up the courage to go for the hat. And he did so only after trying quite a few more times to convince me to do it for him. He even wanted me to ask my sister when she was going that way, but I refused. I wish I knew if I did the right thing or not.

Where Do We Go From Here?

My husband now recognizes that his thoughts are irrational. Baruch Hashem, he has come a long way from when we were newly married and he was convinced they were rational. This definitely makes the situation easier since he now desperately wants to free himself from the “monster.”

In case you are wondering, yes, we have been to doctors, therapists, Rabbanim and others. We have experimented with different medications as well. But each approach, for various reasons, wasn’t the right one, or my husband didn’t stick with it long enough to find out. So despite a great deal of effort, we keep finding ourselves back at  square one.

Okay, not exactly square one, because he is much calmer and happier than he was initially — and even more important, he can now laugh at his obsessions, which he finally admits are just that: obsessions. But practically there is not much difference.

I know that every person has his faults and each one of us has his predestined challenges in life. If I didn’t have to deal with my husband’s OCD, it would be something else. I’m extremely grateful to Hakadosh Baruch Hu for giving me a husband who has such wonderful middos, and for helping us have a beautiful marriage despite the OCD. But sometimes I simply can’t help asking why my husband has to be so “weird” sometimes. Why do I have to suffer because he has this illness? Is it fair that just because he is sure that the neighbors’ child broke her arm as a result of something he did, I have to put up with his tension and criticism?

On the other hand, would I ask these questions if his illness were physical, or would I simply accept the situation and do what I could to help him? Am I just being selfish, trying to envision the “perfect marriage”?

I don’t have the temerity to say that I calmly and completely accept my lot in life, but I certainly try. When I manage to access that state of mind, I definitely feel calmer and more accepting of my husband.

I try to focus on solutions rather than on disturbing questions, but I wish I had some more practical answers. Focusing on his good qualities and downplaying the OCD issues in my own mind certainly helps, as does speaking regularly to someone I know and respect who is aware of the situation. I also went to quite a few sessions with a therapist to learn some coping tools.

Humor definitely helps as well, and by now we can gently laugh together over some of the ridiculous things he  wants to do.

When I mention my husband’s name in Refa’einu, I plead with Hakadosh Baruch Hu to send a refu’as hanefesh u’refuas haguf; I certainly know how important both components are. If the nefesh — the mind and soul — are not healthy, obviously the guf can’t function at its best.

Two Years Later

I’ve just reread what I wrote two years ago, when I felt our nisayon more acutely, and it makes me grateful for our current situation. Baruch Hashem, with tremendous siyatta diShmaya, we have come a long, long way from those days of agony. At the special time of Shabbos candlelighting, my tefillah for my husband was always “Please, Hashem, help us find the right shaliach to help him overcome his illness,” and as always, He did.

I had been talking to a wonderful woman who gave me a lot of support, and she wondered aloud whether we had  ever been treated by Dr. Smith (not his real name). We hadn’t; in fact, I had never heard of him, so she told me about him. A heimishe Yid who was fairly new in town, he was highly recommended by our local Rabbanim.

I really didn’t think there was any point in trying somebody new since we had never had much success with other doctors, but she convinced me it was worth a try. After I spoke to Dr. Smith, I certainly felt more optimistic, but I still had the difficult task of convincing my husband to consult him.

And that’s where my husband’s wonderful middos came through for me. To make me happy, he agreed to go for  one session, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Dr. Smith was exactly what I had been davening for all these years — the right shaliach for us. As my husband became increasingly willing and even eager to go for therapy, his entire outlook on his illness changed.

Through CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy), he learned how to gain — or regain — control over his thoughts. He learned how to differentiate between obsessive and intrusive thoughts and how to deal with them (the former are products of the OCD, the latter are normal), how to view himself in a positive light, and many other effective tools.

Incidentally, many of these ideas can help everybody; most of us would benefit from learning how to use our thoughts to help rather than hinder us.

One technique in particular we have adopted and even use daily with our children is called the “five things,” and the children love it. Basically, the exercise is this: Before you go to sleep, think of five good things you did today. Anything is allowed, however small or seemingly insignificant. We find it teaches the children to notice their accomplishments, and it does wonders to boost self-esteem.

Just the other day, I was working on a puzzle and my five-year-old son said to me, “If Daddy helps you do the puzzle, you can both put it on your five things, ’cuz you’re helping each other!”

It’s endearing to see how children so easily accept new ideas and incorporate them into their own thought patterns.

Dr. Smith is also working with my husband to overcome his compulsions. It’s hard work since they have become so firmly engraved in his behavior patterns for so many years, but slowly — very slowly — and steadily, there is clearly change. My husband is determined to get rid of the negative effects of the OCD and is working hard at it.

There is no doubt that our home life has become happier and more relaxed as a result of his therapy, and I constantly daven to Hakadosh Baruch Hu to improve our situation even more. Meanwhile, I am as encouraging as I can be, while doing my best to ignore his irritating compulsive habits. It also helps to know I can call Dr. Smith  on his cell phone at any time for added support and encouragement. I won’t pretend that the OCD is no longer an  issue or that it is not hard on me anymore, but it is so much easier to focus on the positive now that I can see, b’siyatta diShmaya, an end in sight.

In the zechus of my brave husband’s desire to publish this story solely to help others who may be suffering from OCD or a similar condition, may he — and all other OCD sufferers — merit a complete recovery.