Men’s Mental Health Spotlight: My Experience As An Accountant With Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD)
Getting COVID over Christmas, however, demonstrated my hubris. I found it very challenging to adapt to the loosened guidelines applied by governments and society to the virus…
Content warning – this post discusses suicidal feelings.
The article below is written by a contributor who wishes to remain anonymous. We hope you find this honest portrayal of living with OCD in the accountancy profession an interesting read.
It felt appropriate to start with something of a caveat. In the first instance, I can only speak from my own, personal experiences and on that basis my own experiences aren’t going be reflective of those experiences for others. Secondly, I’m very lucky with those I have around me which, as I’ve discussed below, have been instrumental to me and adjusting to mental health experiences. Lastly, on reflection, I’m not sure that categorisation into “male mental health” is necessarily appropriate. The more that I’ve had the opportunity to talk to others about their own experiences, the more I’ve felt a sense that any kind of affliction coming from mental health is equally powerful irrespective of how an individual identifies. I’m not seeking to undermine the impacts of mental health on men, women, trans or non-binary people, rather that I think there are a lot of commonalities for all those suffering, so why limit any discussion to a narrower group of people.
My experience, as a man with Primary Obsessional Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is that the ability to be open with those around me, irrespective of background or identity, has been a real positive. For a long time as a child and a teenager, I knew I felt different to how I perceived others around me. I felt evil, I felt “why have I had that thought? Person X wouldn’t have had that thought - I can only assume that I’m a bad person.” After quite a few years of my family taking the brunt of my second guessing around my interactions, I started therapy as a teenager. This lasted for some time until I was old enough (16) to attend an adult facility. I found therapy as a child useful - the best thing I felt that it taught me was to speak to others, be honest and that’s where those around me came into their own - they listened and they cared. I didn’t want to talk about it and still don’t (hence me writing this anonymously), but they made me feel safe even if I didn’t know whether they actually understood. My first experience as a 16 year old in therapy / treatment in an adult facility wasn’t particularly positive. For my own reasons, though through no condescension, I have always been reluctant to take medication, but my sense was that was largely the approach where I was attending for therapy.
Through not enjoying it, my time in therapy as an adult was short lived (maybe 2 sessions) - that, coupled with getting a dog who lovingly forced me into exposure therapy (she could be pretty disgusting), I felt I was on top of my OCD enough to get by. The odd “tick” persisted, but by the time I was at university, I’d like to think that I was largely free of the compulsions, but thanks to my experiences with those close to me at home, felt happy to be open enough about it with anyone who asked from university and into my working life, I met genuinely caring and interested (in the right way*) people.
COVID was what brought it back to a degree that I’d say was worse than when I was a child - one of the things this taught me, is how easily my mindset is influenced by the media I consume or can’t escape. Regular self isolations, cutting of social contacts and internally obsessing around passing the virus on and things I’d done in the past that I hadn’t had express reassurance on allowed the “Primary Obsessional” part of my OCD to run riot. There was a time when I came to the conclusion that I was better off dead and, without meaning it to, let it slip to a couple of friends, off-hand. I was struck by the compassion and care those friends showed (and too my girlfriend when I recounted the experiences) which reinforced the experiences I’ve had throughout - I’ve been incredibly lucky to be surrounded by understanding people.
Eventually, after some sensitive but frank conversations with my girlfriend, I started therapy again. I found it incredibly supportive and am very grateful to the therapist who was so patient, informative and effective in getting the “decision makers” to allow me to have more sessions (I was lucky as I’ve enrolled onto my employer’s private health, so got therapy through that and the “decision makers” were essentially the insurers, on the therapist’s advice). Eventually, I reached the limit of additional sessions, but through the work of the therapist, I felt in a far better position to cope. My second experience of therapy as an adult then, was far more positive - a key takeaway I got from that is that the therapist you get is as important as the therapy itself - if one person doesn’t work, try another until you find the right fit.
Getting COVID over Christmas, however, demonstrated my hubris. I found it very challenging to adapt to the loosened guidelines applied by governments and society to the virus, wanting nothing but to stay home but with the pressure of a significant event that I needed to attend. Long story short, I went and all was fine, but I caused a fair amount of emotional turmoil on the way. Once the dust had settled, I promised those around me I would go on medication but even then, I dragged my feet in doing so, not consciously, but I always felt a sense of inertia when considering just doing it. Some more frank and caring conversations with those close to me, I eventually did and remain on medication today. The first week and a half was really tough, but things feel more stable for me now and that is pretty much a summary of my experience.
After all of that business, the conclusion I have drawn as a male who’s experienced mental health conditions is that those around me, together with professional help have helped me the most and I couldn’t be more thankful to them. I want to avoid a blanket statement that this will necessarily work for everyone, but for anyone with mental health conditions, I’d encourage you to explore what works for you best and pursue that - help exists and there are so many people who want to and can help, even if it’s the encouragement to speak to someone who is trained to support. For those who maybe don’t have a mental health condition or are worried about someone, check in on them, talk with them, make it clear that there is no shame - something i've always found is that going through mental health clouds an individual's thoughts and judgement, an internal voice can take over. An outside, supportive voice is so powerful, and can help them see a bit more clearly - be the person my loved ones have been then someone else can feel as lucky as I do.
While I'm writing this anonymously (to be clear, I am not ashamed of my mental health, my decision around anonymity is based on other factors), if anyone has any questions, please contact Accountancy Hub and I'll do what I can. I am in no way a professional but happy to engage in conversation.
*Don't be without tact - being interested "in the right way" to me, meant developing an understanding on what drove my compulsions and understanding that everyone's experience of mental health is different (even if it’s the same condition), rather than using insights into it as a basis for a joke (for example). In a strange way, joking about it, for me, helps on the basis that the person joking properly understands me and it allows me to turn something that's been quite challenging into something that is light hearted, but this could have the opposite effect on others, so focus on understanding the person.
For more information and resources about OCD, please take a look at the Mind and NHS websites.
If you ever need someone to talk to without judgement, you can always contact Samaritans.
