by Ben Thomas
I was right to feel guilty and embarrassed because I had allowed myself to be blinded to how my actions had negatively affected others and I had been blind to the needs of others. I had sacrificed friendships with people. Why? Because I was too nervous that I could cause them harm. Everything around me was tainted and I didn’t want my friends to be tainted. I was too busy focusing on building a fortress for my mind, but all I had built was a dungeon for myself. I needed to stay in control. I tried maintaining my friendships at first, but every time I did, he would warn me that what had happened to Kev’s mum would happen to my friends if I wasn’t vigilant. I found myself letting them down by being late all the time because I had to complete my rituals before meeting up. My behaviour grew stranger and more conspicuous. When I was with them I felt I couldn’t hide my strange behaviour. My rituals and compulsions became more conspicuous, so I had to become inconspicuous. I didn’t want them to realise I had these issues; I didn’t want to be judged. It was always harder with people I was close to. That’s why I was able to go to work, because I didn’t know my new colleagues. In time, though, I got close to them too, and it became harder and harder to protect them.
It was all about me though. I wasn’t really thinking about them. I didn’t think of the real harm of me withdrawing my friendship from them. They didn’t know why I did it. I didn’t give them a chance to understand. Helen had made it clear how she felt about me and I could understand why. I had let Kev down. How could I abandon my oldest friend when he needed me most? What effect had that had on him? His mum passing away and then his best friend abandoning him? I had convinced myself that I was protecting him from further harm on the basis of what I now know is a flawed belief. I knew my thoughts hadn’t actually caused any harm to his mum, even though most of the time he convinced me they did. My actions, however, had caused harm, and who’s to say my action or inaction when it comes to being a friend hasn’t played a part in his depression? I made the choice to abandon him; I hadn’t allowed myself to see it from his perspective. No wonder he was so cool towards me at the reunion. It’s amazing that everyone else bar him and Helen were so welcoming to me, especially Bobby. I opened the door to Bobby and then I slammed it shut in his face. He was the exemplar of friendship and I repaid him by ignoring him and abandoning him again.
And Julie? Up until then I hadn’t considered the impact of our failed night on her. I’d been stressing and moping about what she would think about me or say about me. Me, me, me, me. But what about her? If she did think I was weird, then great; better that than my actions be the cause of her feeling rejected or abandoned, thinking it was her fault I acted the way I did. She stuck up for me too, with Helen. She came to my house to see if I was okay, and even after that I hadn’t once checked to see how she was. Hadn’t called to apologise. I’d been a selfish coward.
I rationalised my behaviour by saying I did my rituals to prevent harm coming to others but having done my reading I could see clearly enough that my thoughts and fears couldn’t harm people, just as my checking rituals couldn’t prevent harm. A door can either be locked or unlocked. It couldn’t be ‘locked, locked, locked.’ Maybe I’d allowed myself to be dictated to because it gave me an excuse for not living my life and for not being a friend. I hadn’t taken responsibility, I had chosen not to be the person I could be.
And yet, though the time for making excuses was over, I knew that OCD is real. Other people’s stories told me that. People who suffered far more than me. People who couldn’t leave the house. People who’d lost marriages, lost contact with their family, lost jobs. What other people had been through looked like hell, even to me. Their stories were heart-breaking to me, because I recognised their pain. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, the knowledge on the screen taught me I should be counting myself lucky.
There was hope though. There were examples, lots of examples, of people living a fully enriched life with OCD, and even people who’d recovered from it. People like me, people who’d suffered more than me, who got better because ultimately they were brave and tried to get better.
It was my turn. I would choose to get better. I’d allowed him to rob me of so much of my life. I thought back to something Mum said, and I agreed with her: I’d always thought I’d eventually grow out of it too. Now I knew I had to choose to be free of him. Free of it. I’d forgotten how to enjoy life. Now it was time for me to remember. It was time for me to dare to be the person I wanted to be.
After lunch I made two phone calls: Jez was keen to know how I got on at the doctors. I went through it with him.
“It’s strange,” I said, “part of me feels relieved that I have some sort of diagnosis and part of me feels excited at the prospect of getting better, and those two emotions at the moment are battling back my fear. But I also feel frustrated because the doctor said it could be about six weeks before I could get a referral to a cognitive behavioural therapist.”
“I understand your frustration, but it’s worth waiting for. From what I know, CBT’s a good approach to helping overcome OCD.”
“Yeah, I know. But I don’t think I can wait. I know myself. I’m up for getting better now, but I’m scared that if treatment is delayed I’ll relapse and not be able to go. I need to keep the momentum up. That’s why I’m ringing, really. Is there anyone private you can recommend? Someone you trust and rate and who can see me quickly? I can pay, and I can see them anytime; it’s not like I’ve got a job to go to.”
“Okay, Toby. Let me look into it and I’ll come back to you.”
“Thanks, Jez. And also…thank you, Jez.”
“No need to say it twice.”
“I mean, thank you for everything. You were right all along. I wish Jess had met you earlier and then maybe I could already be better.”
“Well, it’s you who has made the choice to get better. I’ll offer whatever help I can. Like you said, you just have to keep the momentum up. There will be times when you want to give up, but you have to keep on keeping on…if you know what I mean.”
“I do, Jez. And I will. I will keep on keeping on.”
In the spirit of keeping on, I knew it was wise for me to stay busy. I knew just the man to help me in this area, and so I made my second call.
“Toby! Tremendous to hear from you. I thought you’d run off on me again. How are you?”
“Sorry, Bobby. I’ve been a bit, sort of, unwell…I’ll explain in full when I next see you. Speaking of which, I want to restart the Bobitivities and I want to be a fully signed-up member…that’s if you’ll have me.”
“Fully signed up, eh? You don’t get a monthly newsletter or membership card, you know?”
“That’s okay, Bob. I can live with that just as long as I can start again.”
“No problem, my good man.”
“Great. I have two more questions. First of all, when can we start? And secondly, why did you call round at my house the other day dressed like a pantomime golfer?”
“Ha! I knew you were in! Can’t believe you didn’t answer the door to me, but I will let you off. In answer to your questions, we can start tomorrow if you like, and I was in my golf gear because I was taking you golfing, silly. In fact, that is where we’ll go tomorrow.”
“I’ve never played golf, Bob. I’ve got no clubs or clobber.”
“Relax, you can hire clubs and don’t worry about what to wear. The club I go to has pretty relaxed rules. Just wear something comfortable. I’ll pick you up at your house at two o’clock.”
“Um, I’m staying at my folks’ for a bit. You remember where they live?”
“Sure do. See you tomorrow, golf-T.”
22
“They’re definitely here somewhere,” Dad shouted down from the loft where he was busily searching for his old golf clubs. When I mentioned I was due to play golf, he insisted that I use his clubs. “Yes,” Dad roared in triumph. “Come and have a look, son.”
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br /> I climbed the ladder and pushed my head up into the Aladdin’s cave of a loft where all the family junk eventually ended up. I was amazed Dad was able to find them among the books, old school reports, furniture, Christmas decorations and toys from when we were younger. There they were, though, in a very dusty antiquated golf bag.
“Look at these beauties, Toby.” Dad pulled out a club with a big thick head. “Used to be able to outdrive everyone on the course with this.” He looked at the club with more love than I’d ever seen him give his wife or children. “Oh yes, I’d love to be out there right now. I used to play a lot when I was younger. Used to love it.”
“How come you don’t play now?” I ducked as Dad started swinging the club about him.
“Well, I found something I loved even more – well, just as much anyway – your mother. And then you were born and I wanted to spend all my time with you and I just drifted away from it,” Dad said, misty-eyed as he took out another club. “Hey, see how you get on tomorrow, and if you like it, we can go for a round together.”
Dad indicated for me to go back down the ladder and then passed me down the clubs. He came down the ladder and brushed himself off. “So, what’re you going to wear?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Jeans and a jumper, I guess.”
Dad looked at me aghast. “What? Jeans and jumper? No, no, no, Toby. You can’t go playing golf in jeans and a jumper.”
“Bobby said I could pretty much wear what I liked. He said the club was pretty relaxed about that sort of thing.”
“You’re not turning up in jeans and a jumper. A, they probably won’t let you play and B, you’ll look like a prat.”
Dad was probably right. I cast my mind back to the reunion and Bobby had past form for getting the dress code wrong. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
“I’ll tell you what, there’s a golf shop on Thorn Road. We’ll get some proper golfing gear for you there. Might even check out a new set of clubs if I’m going to be taking it up again with my son.” Dad looked so proud, and I could tell that even if I hated golf I would have to indulge him for a round or two at some point.
*
“Toby! Bobby’s here!” hollered Mum from downstairs.
I gave myself one more look in the mirror and rewarded myself with a satisfied nod. I was kitted out in proper golfing clobber. A bright yellow t-shirt along with trousers, which to be fair were a bit on the garish side of orange. The man in the shop persuaded me that they were the height of golfing fashion. I topped it off with a more discreet white cap to match the golf shoes I had. I had spent more than I would have liked in the golf shop, but with the encouragement of the golf pro and Dad, I got carried away and a little over enthusiastic, which helped to negate any protest by him against me buying new gear. At least I looked like a golfer and wouldn’t look out of place until I played my first shot.
“Well, look at this pro. I didn’t expect you to go to this effort – but looking good, my man, looking good,” Bobby said with the broadest smile on his face as I came down the stairs. Bobby was wearing the same get up as he was the other day, so I was dressed conservatively compared to him.
“Right,” I said, picking up Dad’s clubs and putting them over my shoulder, “let’s go.”
Bobby chuckled to himself. “You’re bringing your own clubs?”
“Sure am. I’ve got all the gear but no idea.”
“You can say that again,” Bobby continued giggling.
“What? Why are you laughing? I know they look a bit, let’s say…vintage, or maybe even crap, but they’ll do the job.”
“You do remember I said you could hire clubs? That’s what I’m doing.”
I was surprised that Bobby didn’t have his own clubs, but maybe he also was a beginner.
“Dad insisted I use his old clubs.”
“I think they’re your dad’s dad’s dad’s clubs.”
“Whatever. You’re just worried I’m going to thrash you today.”
“I don’t think your clubs will help with that. Still, good to see you getting into the spirit of things. Let’s go, Tiger.”
Bobby explained that the golf course was about forty-five minutes away. Good, I thought, it would give me time to explain myself to him. I was on a bit of a high and I was more excited than I thought I would be about playing golf, and more importantly Jez had rung to say he had arranged a meeting with a CBT practitioner for the next day.
I wanted to keep proving to him that I wasn’t scared anymore or embarrassed by my battle with him, so I resolutely told Bobby all about my OCD.
Bobby listened attentively as we drove along, nodding occasionally. I had become experienced in telling my story over the last few days.
After I had finished, Bobby blew out the air from his cheeks and said, “Bloody hell, mate. I know you told me the other week that you were struggling a bit with anxiety and that, but I had no idea you’d been struggling that much. It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Bobby turned to me looking aghast. “Sorry, no offence. I mean, it’s mad – shit, no, wrong choice of words again; you know what I mean. It’s just, you know, you’ve been going through this and I never knew. You could have come to me sooner.”
“It’s okay, I didn’t understand it either, but you’ve actually already helped me by encouraging me to get out there, to start enjoying life more.”
“You’ve got to enjoy life, otherwise what’s the point.”
“I don’t want to get too emotional on you, but you’re a bit of an inspiration, Bob. The way you’ve got over your issues with confidence and the way you are always happy and enjoying yourself.”
“Like I told you, there are times when I still really struggle with self-doubt and feel down. I mean some might consider me a tad overweight…” Bobby slapped his generous belly, “…but I keep reminding myself to be the person I want to be, and if I need to, I put my mask on and act like the person I want to be, and in time the lines between the act and the reality becomes blurred. I get used to being confident and it becomes second nature. Maybe the same principle will work for you. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it may help push you out of your comfort zone.”
I stared out of the window. “I don’t remember the last time I was in a comfort zone.”
“You’ll get there, mate.”
We drove in silence for a moment or so, then Bobby gave an embarrassed cough and looked over to me a little sheepishly and said, “Um, going back to the subject of comfort zones, maybe it’s not such a good idea to go golfing today.”
“Why? I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s just with you telling me what you just have, maybe it’ll be a step too soon and too far out of said comfort zone.”
“Don’t be daft, I need to do this, I need to act normally so I can get used to normality and start enjoying life. What’s the worst that can happen? I hack around a bit and play crap. At least I look good.”
“Erm, yep. That you do. That you do. Just promise you won’t blame me if it’s too much for you. I’m giving you the chance to turn back.”
“Bobby, it’s fine,” I said a little impatiently, though that was tempered by my appreciation of Bobby’s thoughtfulness.
“Right, here we are,” announced Bobby after another five minutes.
I hadn’t really been paying attention to where we were heading, but there had been lots of countryside. Now, however, I found us parking up in the huge carpark of what was obviously a massive out of town shopping centre. I’d never been here before but was aware that it had been built a couple of years before.
“Bobby, I know I’ve not been to many golf clubs, but they don’t usually look like this, do they?”
“It’s okay, the course is at the back, just a short walk.”
“So we have to walk through the shopping centre dressed like this?”
“
It’s only a short walk.”
This didn’t feel right, but what would I know? I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but he started quietly growling, warning me to be on my guard, hence I checked Bobby’s car door was locked seven times and started chanting ‘blessed blessings bless me’ in my head. The intensity of my internal chanting increased as we made our way past the clothes shops, the furniture shops, electrical good shops, through the throngs of people who were all dressed as if…well, as if they were going shopping.
Don’t think the evil words
*
Bobby’s massive smile could potentially distract you from his clothing and he was enjoying the attention we got as we made our way through the centre.
Don’t let evil happen.
I could tell that my expression, in contrast to Bobby’s, was one of meekness as I tried to shrink my body to make myself less conspicuous, but the orange pants and the fact that I had an antique golf bag over my shoulder shattered any chance of being inconspicuous.
As we made our way through the food hall, I noted in amongst the mixture of confused and amused faces that looked at us, a signpost with ‘cinema’ written on it…and underneath, the word ‘golf.’ My doubt was punctured slightly by the confirmation that there was a golf course here and we were nearly at our destination, but I wouldn’t be able to relax until I was greeted by the green fairways. We walked past the cinema and turned the corner to see before us a miniature Big Ben, a castle, and yes, the obligatory windmill…