Interview: Why Lauren Salles did not become a nun
On the many upsides of OCD therapy, that infamous Barbie monologue, and more
In her Exit Interview below, we talk about growing up outside of New Orleans, learning and unlearning Southern purity culture, her OCD diagnosis, and becoming a mother to a daughter – all of which has had her thinking about the lessons she wants to pass on to the next generation of women.
Via email, Lauren and I discussed the fact that her experiences with managing her OCD have, in some ways, prepared her better than most to combat the litany of intrusive thoughts and critical messages people in our culture receive that pressure us to do more than is truly necessary or sustainable — a theme I’ve been exploring for the last few posts.
In her interview, Lauren explains how she has learned to use mindfulness tools to unlock new levels of self-liberation. As she shares below:
Thanks to years of treatment, I can now recognize an intrusive thought as such and let it go rather than allowing it to spin my mind into a frenzy. Moreover, I’ve learned that my identity is not tied to any specific thought, circumstance, role, label, or accomplishment.
I hope you’ll enjoy reading about how Lauren’s initiations have brought her to this place, where she has much to teach us. Let’s get into it!
Ryan: How do you define initiation?
: Since I’m such a word-nerd, I’m resisting the urge to look it up in the dictionary. The SLP in me wants to give you the textbook definition, as well as some synonyms and antonyms.Here’s me trying to define it for myself:
Initiate means to start something. The phrase that comes to mind is “get the ball rolling.” The image that comes up for me is standing at the starting line on a track, waiting for the gun to pop off and my legs to jolt into motion. I’ll always be an athlete at heart!
A more concise and better-worded definition:
To propel into motion something that wasn’t moving before, be it a new thought, idea, perspective, or way of living.
Ryan: Speaking of which, can you tell us a bit about the place where you are from? What grows there? Was it the right place for you to grow?
Oof, I love that question: “What grows there.” I grew up in a small town in South Louisiana, about an hour from New Orleans – and, well, a lot grows there. A lot of confusing ideas about god, religion, and girlhood/womanhood. Purity culture thrives there. Beautiful things grow there too, amidst the weeds - genuine Southern hospitality, strong family ties, beautiful traditions, and amazing food.
Was it the right place for me to grow up? Yes and no. It has shaped me in many ways, and forced me to ask questions and evolve in ways that I wouldn’t have otherwise.
On being diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD)
When was the first time you remember thinking to yourself, “Life will never be the same”?
A long and winding road of various anxiety medications and therapists lead to a diagnosis of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder in my 20s.
The stress of moving across the country, starting graduate school, and getting engaged triggered a barrage of intrusive thoughts. After months of suffering, my fiancee encouraged me to meet with a specialist, who diagnosed me with OCD after our first session.
This discovery was met with equal parts relief and dread: relief because I finally had a reason for the scary thoughts I’d been experiencing; dread because I’d have to deal with this for the rest of my life. I knew then that my life would never be the same.
The grief and relief following a health diagnosis is something to which I think a lot of people can relate. It not only calls your future into question – how will this impact my future initiations? – but it also helps you better understand your past initiations, why things may have been harder for you than others.
What did this look like for you?
As I waded through the stages of grief following my diagnosis, some things from my past started to make more sense.
Like when I used to beg my mom to buy multiples of the same shirt, in case something happened to one of them I’d have more to spare. Or how I used to bury myself beneath my comforter every night for fear of a break-in.
Waves of intrusive thoughts and anxiety chased me into my all-girls, Catholic high school. Once, a nun came to visit and shared her story with our religion class. At the end, she encouraged us to consider a life of celibacy and sisterhood. She spoke of her beautiful life in the convent, their mission and vision for the future.
“But the sisterhood is hurting,” she said, “our membership is declining, and we need more young women to commit so that we can keep doing God’s work.”
I wanted to live a life that would make God happy. Am I supposed to become a nun? I thought to myself.
This thought sparked an unrelenting internal monologue:
I don’t want to be a nun … I want to get married and have kids one day. Life in a convent sounds boring, sad, and lonely. Sure, I’d have my nun friends, but I want a family. And I don’t want to move away from the family I already have to live in a convent.
But maybe I’m supposed to become a nun, even though I don’t want to. There are countless stories from Christians who answer the call of God even though it goes against their own will. What if that’s me? What if I have to answer the call to join a convent because it’s what God wants me to do?
No, no no. That can’t be. I DO NOT WANT TO BE A NUN!
In the months that followed, I continued to fight against my brain and the idea of becoming a nun that wouldn’t leave me alone. As anxious thoughts circled in my brain, I ran circles around the track. Running was the only thing that brought me peace in those days.
As I waded through the stages of grief following my diagnosis, some things from my past started to make more sense…In a way, my OCD has better prepared me for the initiations that I’ve undergone since then.
—
I don’t remember when I stopped ruminating about becoming a nun – maybe once I finally did get a boyfriend my sophomore year of high school. But even then my OCD remained, shapeshifting into various forms of perfectionism throughout college. I managed, but barely. My now-husband likes to remind me of the major meltdown that ensued when I got my first B as a junior in college.
My intrusive thoughts took a turn for the worse when I moved to San Diego for graduate school (and to live with my now-husband), which forced me to finally get some help. If it weren’t for the diagnosis, medication, and professionals that came into my life, I’m not sure if I’d be here today.
The recovery process has been long and treacherous, but worth every tear shed along the way.
In a way, my OCD has better prepared me for the initiations that I’ve undergone since then. Or, rather, my OCD therapy has better prepared me. Thanks to years of treatment, I can now recognize an intrusive thought as such and let it go, rather than allowing it to spin my mind into a frenzy.
Moreover, I’ve learned that my identity is not tied to any specific thought, circumstance, role, label, or accomplishment. My mindfulness practice has been instrumental in guiding me through these life shifts.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve gotten married, graduated, started jobs, quit jobs, moved back across the country, and become a mom. My OCD hasn’t inhibited me from any of it. Does it make life more difficult at times? Sure. But it has also forced me to slow down, pay attention, and learn things about myself that I wouldn’t have otherwise – lessons that I can pass on to my daughter.
Motherhood in particular has opened up a whole new world of fears and uncertainty. I don’t want my daughter to suffer the way that I have – growing up in a world that doesn’t value women and dismisses our pain as trivial.
But all I can do, as my OCD has taught me, is to put one foot in front of the other and not let catastrophic thinking get the better of me. I’ll keep sharing my stories with the hope that they will make the world a better place for my daughter.
Thanks to years of treatment… I’ve learned that my identity is not tied to any specific thought, circumstance, role, label, or accomplishment.
—
In this space, we talk a lot about how the “love, marriage, baby carriage” package of initiations is often oversimplified in the way that it’s sold to us. What would you teach your daughter now about love that you didn’t know before?
Since getting married and becoming a mom, I am reminded more than ever that love is a choice. It’s a conscious, intentional decision that you make every day to show up for your people. It’s not glamorous and it’s often not fun – although it can be those things sometimes. But mostly, on a day-to-day basis, it’s as ordinary as changing my daughter’s poopy diaper before I’ve had my coffee, or my husband learning to disassemble, wash, and reassemble the breast pump.
Has anything surprised you about the experience of being married?
The only thing that really surprises me about being married is how much I rely on my partner, especially now that we are parents. We are a team. I’ve always thought of myself as fiercely independent, but I have grown to accept that I need support. My husband is my best friend, my biggest cheerleader and most stable support system. We continue to learn about each other every day, and becoming “mom” and “dad” has opened up a whole new world for us. It’s been really beautiful, but also extremely difficult. I’m grateful for the 6 years that we had together before expanding our family.
You mention, during your experience with the nun, that as a teen, you realized you really wanted to be a mother. Did you always?
Yes and no. As a kid, when I envisioned my future, I always saw myself as a mom. I often felt like a second mom to my three younger siblings growing up. However, there was a period of time during my young adulthood where I had to step back and ask myself: “Is this something that I truly want, or is this something that I’ve always been told that I should want, as a woman or a ‘good girl’?”
Giving myself the space to sit with that question was vital. I needed to know that I was choosing motherhood for myself, not that I was doing it because it was what I was “supposed to do” as a woman.
Much like your conversation with yourself about becoming a nun, I notice! It’s interesting to note the parallels…
Some people completely abandon themselves in motherhood, and they seem happy to do so. Whereas for me, it often feels like I’m hanging off the edge of a cliff, clinging onto my pre-kid self with my fingertips so that I don’t go crashing down into oblivion. I need to feel valued outside of my role as a mother, and I don’t believe that I was created for the sole purpose of being a mother.
Truth be told, I do not love the work of caretaking – I do it because I love my daughter. It’s important work and I wish that I did love it like so many other moms seem to, but I just don’t. It’s not who I am. It doesn’t bring me fulfillment. I love spending time with my daughter, but I don’t love everything that goes along with it – the cooking, the cleaning, the clingy-ness, the scheduling. I’m still learning how to balance all the things that I have to do (work, chores, caretaking responsibilities) with the things that I want (be outside, play with my daughter, write, make things).
I needed to know that I was choosing motherhood for myself, not that I was doing it because it was what I was “supposed” to do as a woman.
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“I couldn’t let my intrusive thoughts stop me from living my life”
I’d love to talk more about what your OCD therapy has taught you about constructing self-worth as a woman in the world we live in. I think a lot about the now-infamous Barbie monologue, for example, and the ways in which it has highlighted how impossible it is to actually derive a sense of accomplishment by meeting the societal expectations placed on women, because they’re so contradictory.
In a way, these expectations live in many of our minds as a soundtrack of intrusive thoughts. Don’t be too X, but also, make sure to be Y! Don’t be too Y, either, but also, make sure that you’re both X and Y, and Z!
It can be really paralyzing. I definitely felt this as a new mother myself.
What wisdom do mothers who are using mindfulness to manage OCD have to offer us in this regard?
As I stated earlier, OCD never goes away. Like ADHD, it’s a lifelong brain condition, but it is something that we can learn to manage. Attempting to stop your thoughts, however, is actually not possible. I wrote a detailed post on this topic which you can read here. This knowledge was pivotal in my own recovery. (Important note: I use the term “recovery” here not to indicate that I am free of OCD, but that OCD is no longer controlling my life or impacting my daily functioning as it once was).
In Steven C. Hayes’s workbook, which was recommended to me by my therapist, he walks readers through an exercise called “A Yellow Jeep.” In it, he tells readers to close their eyes, set a timer, and NOT think about a yellow jeep for 2 minutes.
If you try the exercise, you’ll see that attempting to suppress the thoughts only makes them come on stronger and more frequently.
Something that I practiced a lot in my treatment was “being with the thoughts” or “allowing the thoughts to be there” and doing whatever I was doing anyway. Whether it was going for a run or out to dinner. I couldn’t let my intrusive thoughts stop me from living my life and participating in activities that I enjoy.
So, my advice for women and for moms is to work on changing your relationship with your thoughts. I have some suggestions and examples to help get started with mindfulness here.
“As a woman, there was always something to fix about myself”
How has your experience with OCD impacted the way you think about religion and spirituality?
This is a great question, and the short answer is that it has changed everything.
Growing up, God and religion had always been portrayed/presented as fixed and certain. Every question had an answer, even if that answer was unsatisfactory.
There is a bible verse that says: “. . . take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5, NIV). I tried to make my thoughts obey. I begged and pleaded, prayed, went to church, joined different religious organizations. I had a note on my phone with bible verses meant to cast my doubts and worries away. Nothing worked. So, of course I assumed that there was something inherently wrong, deeply flawed about me.
I began to distance myself from religion because I was tired of feeling so bad about myself. If “god is love,” and I was “created in the image and likeness of god,” then why did I hate myself so much? Things weren’t adding up. And of course, my religious community was not a safe place for my questions.
There is another bible verse that reads: “Above all, be careful what you think because your thoughts control your life” (Proverbs 4:23, ERV).
Religious doctrine taught me that my thoughts equated to actions; that thinking about something was just as sinful as doing that thing. Not only did I need to have a pure body, I had to have a pure mind as well. Therefore, whenever I had an unwanted or impure thought, I fought against it – which only resulted in an endless loop of anxious rumination.
Therapy and mindfulness, on the other hand, taught me that attempting to get rid of thoughts only makes them more ‘sticky.’ The only way to disempower the thoughts is to acknowledge them and bring your attention and awareness back to the present moment (see the discussion on mindfulness above).
In other words, the messages that I received in my religious upbringing undoubtedly played a role in my OCD, because they made me believe that my thoughts meant something. Rather than seeing them as ‘just thoughts,’ my thoughts became omens, and my mind became a dangerous place.
The veil had begun to lift in other ways, too. Specifically, the “men of god” that I dated let me down in big ways. They led me on, broke my trust, and again made me feel like I was doing something wrong.
Yet as a woman, there was always something to fix about myself.
Once, in college, I was invited to a church pool party where the ladies were asked to wear one-piece bathing suits so as not to tempt the guys.
“Well, do the guys have to wear shirts then?” I had asked my friend.
“No …” she had said, perplexed. “A lot of the guys struggle with temptation, you know, when they see our bodies exposed like that. We can help protect them by covering up.”
This made my blood boil, but I couldn’t quite figure out why at the time. I refused to go to the party. I enjoyed (and still do!) wearing bikinis, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice my own comfort for someone else’s.
Now, in hindsight, I can see that it was a version of the same story that I had been told my whole life: my body was bad and not to be trusted. Therefore, by default, my womanhood itself was bad. Women were, and still are, the cause of man’s downfall.
For a religion that often claims that we are ‘saved by grace’ and that we don’t have to earn god’s love, there sure are a lot of rules. Especially for women.
“Lots of love, lots of questions, lots of uncertainty”
In order to fully heal and recover from OCD, I have had to step away from religion – Christianity in particular. I’m not sure if I’ll ever find my way back for many reasons. For now, I’m enjoying an expansive and all-encompassing version of the divine. Lots of love, lots of questions, lots of uncertainty, and no rules. This is the version of spirituality that makes me feel most free and alive and helps me to be my best self.
Many times, I think we have to leave a place, a practice, or a way of being only to return later and see it with new eyes. Separating ourselves from long held beliefs (even if temporarily) can open our minds, give us new perspectives, and deepen our spirituality in unexpected ways.
It reminds me of the heroine’s journey, which I only recently learned about. Different from the hero’s journey, the heroine must traverse through a “dark night of the soul” and descend into the underworld in order to heal her relationship with herself and experience true fulfillment.
In order to fully heal and recover from OCD, I have had to step away from religion – Christianity in particular. I’m not sure if I’ll ever find my way back for many reasons. For now, I’m enjoying an expansive and all-encompassing version of the divine…This is the version of spirituality that makes me feel most free and alive and helps me to be my best self.
—
Where do you think the line is between
(a) engaging with spiritual practices as a way to touch in with authentic self-compassion, and
(b) engaging with religious doctrine that may serve as another source of intrusive thoughts?
The problem with many religious and spiritual traditions, as I see it, is that they often fall into the trap of “black-or-white, all-or-nothing,” thinking. As you mentioned earlier, both culture and religion often send messages that there is only one “right” way of doing things; and that certain ideas or ways of being are objectively better than others.
But this is not reality. In reality, there is a lot of gray area. In fact, most everything exists within the gray area if we choose to see the full picture. Religion and politics attempt to give us quick and simple answers. Our brain likes quick and simple answers, which is why it’s so easy for us to fall into this erroneous thinking pattern. Certainty makes us comfortable, even if it is an illusion.
Part of my OCD treatment involved acknowledging and becoming comfortable with uncertainty. In truth, there is always more than one “right” way, and even “bad” people or things have good qualities. Life is much more complex and nuanced than we like to acknowledge. I had to accept that if I wanted to heal.
“The ultimate spiritual act is learning to hold multiple opposing truths at once”
Now, I think that the key to a healthy spiritual practice is learning to sit with the unknown. Different philosophies or opposing ideas should not feel threatening. If your livelihood hinges on one set of beliefs that must be true, then you’re one intrusive thought away from a mental breakdown.
I think that if your faith stifles your curiosity and causes you cut yourself off from certain people, ways of life, or topics of conversation, than it’s doing more harm than good.
On the other hand, finding freedom in life’s great mystery, in the great mystery of the divine, has brought me so much peace.
The ultimate spiritual act is learning to hold multiple opposing truths at once. Different is not “bad” or dangerous, despite what you may have grown up believing. There is more than one right way to have faith, just like there is more than one right way to be a woman or a mother. You can believe in Jesus’s teachings AND reject the idea that he is the only ticket to heaven. You can be a great mom AND use screen time on a regular basis.
Now, when confronted with a difficult question, my posture is always: I’m not sure, but the god I believe in is so vast and loving and kind and beyond my understanding that I'm resting in hopeful anticipation and possibility.
There is more than one right way to have faith, just like there is more than one right way to be a woman or a mother. You can believe in Jesus’s teachings AND reject the idea that he is the only ticket to heaven. You can be a great mom AND use screen time on a regular basis.
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I also love the Buddhist practice of non-attachment, which involves loosening our attachment to things that are temporary – which, really, is everything. Everything is always changing. Our circumstances, our relationships, our beliefs, thoughts, emotions, and even our ideas about who we are. Donald Miller has said, “Every healthy thing grows and changes. Nothing stays the same unless it's dead. Lets stop resisting change. God invented change.”
So, going back to your interview question in the beginning – you might consider, is this practice or community the right place for you to grow? In different seasons of life, you will have different needs. Are you giving yourself what you need in this season of life? Is the soil around you nourishing or suffocating? Are your spiritual practices and/or your faith communities allowing you to grow and change?
Further reading:
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Love this interview! So much resonates, particularly in light of my own conservative upbringing in a high-demand religion. Thank you to you and Lauren for the thoughtful discussion and wisdom offered
Reading through this again is reigniting my passion for the book project that I started many moons ago. Thank you again for sharing!!