I don't quite know how to rate and review Brain Lock, but I'll give it the old college try. Please note that several f-bombs are laced throughout my review. Profanity feels really good when it comes to fighting back.



I don't have OCD, but a friend who knows I struggle with claustrophobia and anxiety sent it along with a strong recommendation. And I'm oh-so-glad she did.



On the surface, the treatment method for OCD outlined and explained in Brain Lock wouldn't seem to have much to do with treatin

I don't quite know how to rate and review Brain Lock, but I'll give it the old college try. Please note that several f-bombs are laced throughout my review. Profanity feels really good when it comes to fighting back.



I don't have OCD, but a friend who knows I struggle with claustrophobia and anxiety sent it along with a strong recommendation. And I'm oh-so-glad she did.



On the surface, the treatment method for OCD outlined and explained in Brain Lock wouldn't seem to have much to do with treating phobias. Yet, what is a phobia but an obsessive, irrational fear of harmless or even unlikely circumstances? It's not even that, really. A phobia is the fear of losing control when faced with a particular circumstance.



For me, it's getting a handle on the ridiculousness of claustrophobia that interferes with my love of travel; specifically, I fucking hate to fly. And, like, I've flown all over the world, north to south, east to west. I've had jobs predicated on the ability to travel all over, frequently, by small, steel tube with no access to fresh air for hours on end. I've been claustrophobic forever, but the flight thing just keeps getting worse. I never, ever get on an elevator, but for the most part I can work around that (recent surgery, I couldn't escape the elevator, but I was on a gurney with drugs in my system. That's how I roll). It's hard, however, to get to Vietnam, Chile, Morocco or Turkey - all places I intend to get to soon - without boarding a plane. Fuck this. I'm tired of carrying the burden of my own brain around. Enough.



I love a plan. And now I have one. The first two pages of the journal I'm taking with me to France (YES! FUCK YES! I'M GETTING ON A FUCKING PLANE IN TWO WEEKS) are filled with notes from Brain Lock, including the Four Steps: RELABEL, REATTRIBUTE, REFOCUS, REVALUE.



For years, I've Refocused, without even knowing I should be. When I feel a pre-take-off or mid-flight panic attack tickling the nether reaches of my brain, I pull out my book of NY Times Sunday crossword puzzles and get to work. It's hard to panic when you are trying to think of the nine-letter name for a canonized Norwegian king. But I never knew the power of anticipating and accepting that I WILL start to panic, that every fiber in me will be screaming ICANTICANTICANTICANT as I walk down the jetway or when the flight attendants close the doors and I know I am TRAPPED FOR HOURS AND I CAN'T GET OUT. There's power in knowing that horror is going to happen. Knowledge is power, because it puts me in control.



The moment I read this thing, this thing about saying, "Oh, hey there, Brain. Yep, there you go, freaking out. What else is new? You've allowed in stupid obsessive thoughts, but sit down and STFU!" (Relabel & Reattribute) a light flickered on. No one ever told me I could say THAT to my brain. No one ever told me that the panic won't go away, but I don't have to DO anything about it. I don't have to try to stop it, I just don't have to ACT on it. I can carry on with the rest of my life (Refocus) and devalue the panic as worthless garbage (Revalue). This alone was worth the price of admission. I see other reviews suggesting that you skip right to the end of the book, where the four steps are explained in a handful of pages, but don't do that. It's really worth getting some background on OCD and relating it to your particular issues, even if it's not a disorder you possess.



The case studies I skipped, as well as chapters on relationships to other disorders and living with a loved one who has OCD. I was also a bit taken aback by the frequent references to God. I wasn't expecting that from a behavior therapist. It's fine, really. I'm not a religious person, but I do my fair share of appealing to a higher power. It just caught me off guard.



But I was glad to see the strong focus on mindfulness, the nuanced approach to medication (the goal being to alter your brain chemistry, thereby negating the need for medication), and the nods to meditation. I've found a couple of phobia-specific guided meditation practices that have been incredibly helpful and they will be loaded on my iPod, ready for action during that flight.



I know I'll be fine. I've made this flight dozens of times. It's never easy, but once, long ago, it was, so I know the power to change my brain and gain control over these false messages is completely within my grasp.



Forget the elevators, though. I'll walk.