In line with my Jewish faith, I light memorial candles on the anniversary of the deaths of mother and father.
It's when I started observing this tradition that I began to sense I had potential to be a hoarder.
Each candle comes in a glass container and is intended to burn for about 24 hours. You don't blow them out -- you let them burn -- and when they're done, you presumably discard the container.
Except I couldn't discard the container.
My mother died first and my OCD was fierce when it came time to throw away the used glass:
"How could you throw that away -- it's a connection to your mother. How disrespectful can you be? Don't you love her anymore?"
So I didn't throw the candle away the first year, or the second, or the first seven anniversaries.
I mentioned this to my OCD therapist and she put it simply?: "So do you think you can just keep them forever?"
It was a good question. Already they were taking up some space and she made me think of the future -- 30 or 40 years from now, where was I going to keep them? And then I'd eventually be lighting them for my father as well.
But I still couldn't toss them out.
So one therapy appointment I brought them with me in a bag. Yes, I was embarrassed in the waiting room to be holding a bag full of used memorial candles, but my therapist was going to help me deal with it.
As the session that day came to a close, she walked me over to a trash can and encouraged me to throw them away. It took just about everything I had to do it, but what else could I do? I dropped the containers in the garbage and quickly walked away before I could change my mind.
That was maybe seven years ago and I've done much better since -- the exposure therapy was generally successful.
True, I have yet to throw away the containers for the candles I lit for my mother and father this year, but they are at least the only ones I have. And without the ERP session the count could have been up to about 30 by now.
It's when I started observing this tradition that I began to sense I had potential to be a hoarder.
Each candle comes in a glass container and is intended to burn for about 24 hours. You don't blow them out -- you let them burn -- and when they're done, you presumably discard the container.
Except I couldn't discard the container.
My mother died first and my OCD was fierce when it came time to throw away the used glass:
"How could you throw that away -- it's a connection to your mother. How disrespectful can you be? Don't you love her anymore?"
So I didn't throw the candle away the first year, or the second, or the first seven anniversaries.
I mentioned this to my OCD therapist and she put it simply?: "So do you think you can just keep them forever?"
It was a good question. Already they were taking up some space and she made me think of the future -- 30 or 40 years from now, where was I going to keep them? And then I'd eventually be lighting them for my father as well.
But I still couldn't toss them out.
So one therapy appointment I brought them with me in a bag. Yes, I was embarrassed in the waiting room to be holding a bag full of used memorial candles, but my therapist was going to help me deal with it.
As the session that day came to a close, she walked me over to a trash can and encouraged me to throw them away. It took just about everything I had to do it, but what else could I do? I dropped the containers in the garbage and quickly walked away before I could change my mind.
That was maybe seven years ago and I've done much better since -- the exposure therapy was generally successful.
True, I have yet to throw away the containers for the candles I lit for my mother and father this year, but they are at least the only ones I have. And without the ERP session the count could have been up to about 30 by now.
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