Craving//Connecting: Exposure
Guest post by Aly Prades
It’s been almost six months since I launched my craving//connecting series, where I explore a theme or practice I’m connecting to or craving more of in my life. When I dreamed up this series, I envisioned not only sharing my own insights into these topics, but those of others, as well.
This week I’m delighted to kick off the first guest post of the series, brought to you by none other than my friend,
. Aly and I met in our The Artist’s Way cohort this past fall and reading her writing on OCD recovery, creativity, and life in general has become something I look forward to each week, so I was thrilled when she accepted my offer to write something as part of this series. I always walk away from her writing feeling seen and encouraged and this piece is no different, I know you’ll feel the same way.Exposure1+2, a noun: the position (as of a house) with respect to weather influences or compass points.
Ex: A room with southern exposure.
The house’s exposure is not determined by the actions it takes, but its position in relation to the world around it. Exposure is a posture, defined by where you’re willing to be open.
***
Exposure, a noun: the fact or condition of being exposed, uncovered, presented to view, or being made known.
The email goes out on Wednesday evenings. Each writer attaches their draft for review. I haven’t been a part of a critique group since my undergrad creative writing classes. I’ve shared my work, yes. Had a few pieces edited for publication. But those suggestions were private and only came after the editor had already said yes. Small tweaks to the work they’re rooting for. Approval already given. I’ve had friends look over my drafts, too, more suggestions made in love.
This group of strangers knows nothing about my life or my writing. I want to share a piece about my journey of living with undiagnosed OCD. I don’t usually balk at sharing, but this new risk gives me pause.
Pressing send opens me to scrutiny and praise alike.
Uncovered, I wait for their response.
***
Exposure, a noun: the condition of being subject to some effect or influence.
We board the plane together, sporting excitement and free carry ons.
“You mean we’ll get there today? Today today?” my six-year-old asks, incredulous that the flight saves us two days of driving, which is how we’d made the last two treks from Idaho to California and back again.
The kids squeal when my mom, their Nana, pulls up to Arrivals outside the airport. Choosing to fly gave us extra time with grandparents, cousins, and friends. But two days in: I get a throat tickle. Day three: a fever.
I don’t see many of my friends after all. Planes also come with germs.
***
Exposure, a noun: the condition of being at risk of financial loss.
I quit my job last May. We knew we were moving over the summer, downsizing, but that didn’t convince the pit in my stomach that it was any less risky.
I thought of my amazing health insurance and benefits. The security we felt each time my paycheck pinged our account.
I also thought of all the essays I wouldn’t have to grade, the department meetings that would go on without me, the plagiarism and AI policies I would never have to write, or enforce.
That helped.
In our new home, I fill my weeks with walks and writing groups, slow days and artist dates. My husband gets to be in a play again, the grueling rehearsal schedule now feasible because I’m not at the end of my rope.
We lost my income, but we gained margin, time. Life.
***
Exposure, a noun: the act of exposing: such as the disclosure of a secret.
“You’re so brave!” my readers respond. Honesty becomes something of a compulsion for me. I need people to know how dark and scary my own mind is. I confess my shortcomings to anyone who will listen. Maybe it’s so I can beat them to the punch. Lay it all out there, daring them to reject me from the start. It would hurt so much worse to be found out, and found lacking, later.
Even now, I wrestle with what to share, what to hold back. What’s considered indecent and what’s a point of connection.
***
Exposure, a noun: the act of treating of sensitized material (such as film) to controlled amounts of radiant energy.
In photography, the radiant light brings forth the picture. Yet, photographs need darkness to develop. Negatives are required to make the picture, to make art. I’ve never developed my own photos, but I know it’s a delicate dance of light and timing, toner and patience.
Overexpose and the image is ruined.
***
Exposure, a noun: the condition of being unprotected, especially from severe weather
Sun bathes the beach with a glowy winter light that I am tempted to bat at like a cat. I shrug out of my coat and the icy wind blasts my bare skin. I step slowly into the frigid water until I am up to my neck with only my mittened hands and face exposed. The skin on my stomach, my arms, my legs screams and prickles, while I turn my face to the sun and heat spreads across my cheeks.
I am struck by the contrast: warmth and cold together. How I’m holding them both, together.
After the plunge I towel off at my car. Wriggle into dry clothes. Brush the tiny pebbles from between my toes. Lace up my hiking boots.
Ready to walk.
Despite my sunny plunge, this side of the hill is shrouded in shadow. The blue sky above the pine trees hints at sun on the other side.
My pace quickens. My heart rate speeds. The light shines in small patches between tree trunks at first. Then stripes of light paint the forest.
I am getting closer.
One frozen foot in front of the other, I keep walking. Turkeys gobble in the distance, my boots crunch on the path.
The shafts of light get bigger as I close in on a clearing ahead.
Until my face is bathed in warmth and my own body casts the shadow on the forest behind me.
***
Exposure and Response Prevention for OCD: the act of facing your fears without falling back on any of your safety behaviors; the gold standard for OCD treatment.
“You want me to do what?” I ask my therapist.
“Move toward the fear on purpose,” he calmly, and perhaps a bit smugly, repeats.
The internet cautions me to protect my peace, use ice packs for anxiety, and master breathing exercises.
In OCD treatment, I don’t get any of that.
My therapist goes on to explain that in Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) you expose yourself to your fear or trigger, commit to not responding with your normal compulsions (response prevention), and ride out the anxiety by doing nothing.
Nothing! In the face of paralyzing anxiety.
Again, you want me to do what?
Over time, the ERP process can rewire your body’s fear response, teach you that the danger is not real and that you can do hard things.
Exposure therapies are, by definition, uncomfortable.
The first time I try an exposure, my heart pounds and I bristle, much like the moments right before a cold plunge. I write out my fears one by one on a sheet of printer paper my kids haven’t yet claimed for their art projects.
I am the worst friend that ever existed because I didn’t text her back.
I am the worst teacher that ever existed because I did not grade their assignment the moment they turned it in.
I list out the worst case scenarios, and agree with them.
I ruined her day, her weekend, her life.
She will never talk to me again.
I let my students down.
I ruined their semester, their careers, their lives.
I’m going to be fired.
Everyone knows I’m a fraud.
Every choice I make is wrong.
My anxiety ratchets up…until it doesn’t.
Written out, my fears don’t look so menacing. Written out, they look a little ridiculous.
I state them outloud and I feel even more ridiculous.
My body buzzes, but I feel a glint of excitement amidst the anxiety. Is this a hint of badassery, too?
I feel like I’ve unlocked a superpower. Like the lights have been turned on.
I don’t need to protect my peace. Peace isn’t actually the point.
Exposure has taught me I’m stronger than my fears. If I open myself to the dark, I make room for the light. I remove my defenses. Move into the world, uncovered.
It’s a posture.
I think it’s the same for all of us, with or without OCD. Only by exposing our dreams, our hopes, our vulnerabilities, and diving in anyway, do we come out on the other side.
It’s the same with any self-care act when you’re struggling. You call a friend, light a candle, blast nostalgic music and dance in your bedroom, go for a walk. You don’t know if the sun will come out, but you put yourself in the path of the light anyway.
And with creativity, you don’t know if a flash of inspiration will shine on you, but you put yourself in a position to give Inspiration a chance. Open the notebook, pull out the paints, strum the guitar.
Sure, we risk overexposure, opening ourselves to the elements of judgment–our own and others’.
It would be easier to stay inside, stay safe, covered.
The journey to the light can be cold and lonely. Sometimes the light seems to shine on everyone else’s path but ours. But we keep walking, one frozen foot in front of the other, hoping for a taste of sun.
All definitions adapted from Merriam-Webster Dictionary: Exposure Definition & Meaning - Merriam-Webster
I have seen a number of very well done definition posts like this, but want to credit Molly Flinkman with her masterful piece, proof of life. - by molly flinkman - common stories as recent inspiration.
Aly Prades is a former ESL writing professor and current seeker of magic in the margins. She lives in North Idaho with her husband and two kids. She loves to craft words, arts and crafts used to make her skin crawl, but now she’s experimenting with watercolor and having…fun…gasp. She is a foodie who hates cooking and is always dancing the line between thoughtful introspection and overthinking. You can read more about her experience of growing up with undiagnosed OCD, as well as her poetry, newsletters, and pep talks at A Glitch in the Good Enough, where she also offers many OCD recovery resources.
Thanks for sharing my words, Kelsey!
Aly, this is gorgeous. I love the way you wove different experiences of exposure and called us into bravery to face our fears. This piece will stay with me for a while.