Months have passed by since I wrote that last section and I am choosing not to read it. I just have a few more thoughts and I want to post this before I mess with it or rethink it or lose it entirely. I had the luxury of spending my weekend with my wonderful female cousins and some friends I didn't know I had. We shared a house, laughs, tears, hugs, worries, terrifying secrets, stupid moments, good food, and copious amounts of alcohol. At some point my openness about my OCD came into play and one of my cousins poignantly asked what it was I feared would happen if I didn't do my rituals. She wondered, and logically so, of I thought I would die by letting the drain touch my foot.(letting it, that's a whole other topic I hope I remember to come back to) I'm sick now. Not like I just realized I was sick but sick as in I want to throw up. The skin that I'm not even sure is mine begins to crawl. I can't contemplate the question. There is no answer. There is no beginning. It just can't be. I have since been listening to the things my mind has to say. Mostly it is repetitive. Mostly drivel. But since it belongs to me, I don't have a choice. I'm listening hoping that somewhere in the madness, there would be an answer. A sound, solid answer I can hang my hat on.
The aggravation of compulsion:
You can't answer it. You can't look at logic and expect it to hand you an explanation. It doesn't want to look at you because it doesn't find you familiar. So here you are, desperate, and those who are the ones that usually see through your hide are still looking at what you want them to see. I just noticed that I changed from a personal point of view to third person. You want them to know that you are clinging to logic as if it might actually be the very very last straw but there is no good way to convey the message. Even the ones that know, all of us that know, we want to not be there. We are so terrified to end up there again ourselves that no matter how much we recognize it, we are reluctant to respond.
The final result is that we/I/You see this, emote, perhaps tentatively reach out, but still fill up the flotation device and flood the moat because we are so adamantly opposed to going back there. This leads me to my next post, maybe. Depression.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
OCD
When I try to think back to when it all started, I come up with the answer that I have pretty much always had OCD. I can remember hating public bathrooms from the start of my memories. Back in the late 70's they started using this really awful smelling bubble gum scented air freshner and I couldn't even walk in the door if I smelled it. I learned to hold my pee for hours and hours. That still holds true for me today. I have to be pretty desperate to use a public bathroom. And when I do, I have this entire ritual for covering the toilet seat before I hover and I try not to actually touch anything with my hands. I have to pull out a small amount of towel before washing my hands and then once I have dried my hands I have to fold the towel in a certain way so that the part that has touched the faucets (turn them off after washing because too many others don't use soap) will touch my hands and then I use the towel to open the door. My skin will actually crawl if I see someone else touch the door with their bare hands. I also can't deal with touching anything like a hand rail or bannister in public. I know that there is not a person on staff anywhere whose job it is to clean these things. Ever. Generations of germs and sticky fingers and muck has built up on these things and apparently I'm the only one who can sense it. Some days I can't settle down and watch TV or hang out until I have sanitized all our door knobs and light switches.
I know I have touched on this subject once before but this topic needs expansion. The tub/shower drain. It truly terrifies me. If I spend too much time thinking about it I can start to twitch. It makes me want to cry even. Just a little, but still. Think about it. All the dirty water and hair and dead skin cells end up there. A really good reason for me to keep my hair short. More likely it will just go down the drain and not collect there where I can see it. I can't even get near the drain. I had my shower custom built when I remodeled with the drain at the regular end but the shower head all the way at the other end so I could finally enjoy standing directly under the shower head. Until that time, I had to get into some pretty strange poses to rinse myself and my hair because I just can't get within 3 feet of the damned drain. I can't even handle seeing Matt touch the drain when he is showering. It really makes me want to pass out just to get away from the sight. Poor Matt, we don't even share a bathroom because I need everything in there to be just so. I could never use my shower again if I thought he touched the drain and then walked on the rest of the shower floor. I also use shower shoes (flip flops) when I don't have access to my own shower. It doesn't matter whose house I'm in or how nice of a hotel. Even our second bathroom. It just isn't right. Then there are shower curtains. Who the hell thought they were a good idea?! No matter what, they always find a way to touch you while you are trying to be clean. No breeze, no air flow and yet they seem to blow into the shower area. They cling like a wet polyester suit. Forget taking a bath. Why would I want to sit in a pool of my own dirty water with the drain constantly spewing forth bits of filth? It's like human dirt soup. (I do admit that I try occaisonally to take one but it requires a really large tub and lot and lots of colored bubble bath so I don't actually see anything) This issue crosses over to public pools. I simply can't handle getting in one. I don't want my feet to touch the bottom. My mind begins racing over every possible thing that has been in the pool water. Random hair is probably the worst because at least urine is sterile (or so they say). Don't even ask me about hot tubs.
The other part of the bathroom that is essential is my toilet. I accidentally got a lowered one when I was remodeling and it has turned out to be the best thing ever. I now can't poop unless my feet touch the ground. My last blog talked about cruise ship toilet seats and how they are weirdly shaped and seem to be at least 2 feet higher than even regular toilets are. My toes didn't even skim the floor. This led to a really funny moment on our last cruise. I was complaining about the toilet and how hard it was to get a good bowel movement when Matt mentioned that he had to use the second bathroom in our stateroom because I was napping. Apparently it was much smaller than the one in our bathroom and Matt mentioned that he had to sit sideways in order to fit on it as there wasn't any room for his knees. I began laughing and crying at the same time just imagining having to do that. It was horrifying to me. Just the thought that not only would my feet not be able to touch the ground but I would also not even be perfectly straight and balanced on the seat. I've never actually had that emotion before (I have laughed til I cried and I have started laughing after a good cry but never overwhelmed to the point that it all came out at once). I hope I never encounter that moment in my life and I also hope I never have to use one of those toilets that are set into the floor. Without a courtesy rope to hold I would end up making a mess and and and oh god, I just can't go there!
Another issue I have is children with snotty noses. I am thankful that my family doesn't get offended and loves me just the same when I hand them back one of their children with a look of disgust on my face. I can't even handle wiping it. I just need to get as far from the snot as I can. I feel really bad about this one and I would change it if I could.
Words. They get stuck in my head. I feel this pull from inside my belly to repeat them over and over and over again in my head. I try not to say them out loud mostly. They don't often come out. Once in a while though I find myself inventing reasons to say them or to make Matt say them. Recently, and I hate to resurrect this one since I know I will wake up repeating it to myself at least five times tonight, I had to keep repeating the name of a boat from TV..The Addy Gil (Whale Wars I think) and most especially the name of the captain, Pete Buthune. Actually just his last name, the first name doesn't stick. Annoyingly I also have a repetative DJ in my head. I have had an issue for about a year with a Wyclef song. I couldn't tell you the name..I know I liked it at one point...all I know is that I wake up 3 or 4 times a night signing just one line from it. Yes, just one and I will have woken up because I will realize that I have already sung it over and over for about 10 minutes in my sleep and I'm annoyed. I get up, I walk around, I pee, I get water, I let a dog or two out, I get back in bed, I sing a new song over and over and over while conscious to try and chase it away..then I wake up a few hours later singing the same damned Wyclef song. Just the one line. If I ever get totally in touch with myself, I'm going to beat up this cheap ass DJ. Oh, and words. There are so many. They like to hang out in my brain and bounce around. I've always been partial to quats, either lo- or kum-. Big words of most kinds. I like the amount of space they take up when you say them. Spacious,
I do not want my food to touch. It just shouldn't. It's just wrong. I find separated food to be like a microcosm. It needs its own space to devlop. To grow. One flavor does not necessisarily need to match another, they just need to be kept to their own area. Savored in their own way. Appreciated. It just isn't right to force them on one another.
Months have passed by since I wrote that last section and I am choosing not to read it. I just have a few more thoughts and I want to post this before I mess with it or rethink it or lose it entirely. I had the luxury of spending my weekend with my wonderful female cousins and some friends I didn't know I had. We shared a house, laughs, tears, hugs, worries, terrifying secrects, stupid moments, good food, and copious amounts of alcohol. At some point my openess about my OCD came into play and one of my cousins poignantly asked what it was I feared would happen if I didn't do my rituals. I'm sick now. The skin that I'm not even sure is mine begins to crawl. There is no answer. There is no begining. It just can't be.
I just realized that this post could go on and on but it has led to other thoughts and instead of holding on to this one I need to start others.
I know I have touched on this subject once before but this topic needs expansion. The tub/shower drain. It truly terrifies me. If I spend too much time thinking about it I can start to twitch. It makes me want to cry even. Just a little, but still. Think about it. All the dirty water and hair and dead skin cells end up there. A really good reason for me to keep my hair short. More likely it will just go down the drain and not collect there where I can see it. I can't even get near the drain. I had my shower custom built when I remodeled with the drain at the regular end but the shower head all the way at the other end so I could finally enjoy standing directly under the shower head. Until that time, I had to get into some pretty strange poses to rinse myself and my hair because I just can't get within 3 feet of the damned drain. I can't even handle seeing Matt touch the drain when he is showering. It really makes me want to pass out just to get away from the sight. Poor Matt, we don't even share a bathroom because I need everything in there to be just so. I could never use my shower again if I thought he touched the drain and then walked on the rest of the shower floor. I also use shower shoes (flip flops) when I don't have access to my own shower. It doesn't matter whose house I'm in or how nice of a hotel. Even our second bathroom. It just isn't right. Then there are shower curtains. Who the hell thought they were a good idea?! No matter what, they always find a way to touch you while you are trying to be clean. No breeze, no air flow and yet they seem to blow into the shower area. They cling like a wet polyester suit. Forget taking a bath. Why would I want to sit in a pool of my own dirty water with the drain constantly spewing forth bits of filth? It's like human dirt soup. (I do admit that I try occaisonally to take one but it requires a really large tub and lot and lots of colored bubble bath so I don't actually see anything) This issue crosses over to public pools. I simply can't handle getting in one. I don't want my feet to touch the bottom. My mind begins racing over every possible thing that has been in the pool water. Random hair is probably the worst because at least urine is sterile (or so they say). Don't even ask me about hot tubs.
The other part of the bathroom that is essential is my toilet. I accidentally got a lowered one when I was remodeling and it has turned out to be the best thing ever. I now can't poop unless my feet touch the ground. My last blog talked about cruise ship toilet seats and how they are weirdly shaped and seem to be at least 2 feet higher than even regular toilets are. My toes didn't even skim the floor. This led to a really funny moment on our last cruise. I was complaining about the toilet and how hard it was to get a good bowel movement when Matt mentioned that he had to use the second bathroom in our stateroom because I was napping. Apparently it was much smaller than the one in our bathroom and Matt mentioned that he had to sit sideways in order to fit on it as there wasn't any room for his knees. I began laughing and crying at the same time just imagining having to do that. It was horrifying to me. Just the thought that not only would my feet not be able to touch the ground but I would also not even be perfectly straight and balanced on the seat. I've never actually had that emotion before (I have laughed til I cried and I have started laughing after a good cry but never overwhelmed to the point that it all came out at once). I hope I never encounter that moment in my life and I also hope I never have to use one of those toilets that are set into the floor. Without a courtesy rope to hold I would end up making a mess and and and oh god, I just can't go there!
Another issue I have is children with snotty noses. I am thankful that my family doesn't get offended and loves me just the same when I hand them back one of their children with a look of disgust on my face. I can't even handle wiping it. I just need to get as far from the snot as I can. I feel really bad about this one and I would change it if I could.
Words. They get stuck in my head. I feel this pull from inside my belly to repeat them over and over and over again in my head. I try not to say them out loud mostly. They don't often come out. Once in a while though I find myself inventing reasons to say them or to make Matt say them. Recently, and I hate to resurrect this one since I know I will wake up repeating it to myself at least five times tonight, I had to keep repeating the name of a boat from TV..The Addy Gil (Whale Wars I think) and most especially the name of the captain, Pete Buthune. Actually just his last name, the first name doesn't stick. Annoyingly I also have a repetative DJ in my head. I have had an issue for about a year with a Wyclef song. I couldn't tell you the name..I know I liked it at one point...all I know is that I wake up 3 or 4 times a night signing just one line from it. Yes, just one and I will have woken up because I will realize that I have already sung it over and over for about 10 minutes in my sleep and I'm annoyed. I get up, I walk around, I pee, I get water, I let a dog or two out, I get back in bed, I sing a new song over and over and over while conscious to try and chase it away..then I wake up a few hours later singing the same damned Wyclef song. Just the one line. If I ever get totally in touch with myself, I'm going to beat up this cheap ass DJ. Oh, and words. There are so many. They like to hang out in my brain and bounce around. I've always been partial to quats, either lo- or kum-. Big words of most kinds. I like the amount of space they take up when you say them. Spacious,
I do not want my food to touch. It just shouldn't. It's just wrong. I find separated food to be like a microcosm. It needs its own space to devlop. To grow. One flavor does not necessisarily need to match another, they just need to be kept to their own area. Savored in their own way. Appreciated. It just isn't right to force them on one another.
Months have passed by since I wrote that last section and I am choosing not to read it. I just have a few more thoughts and I want to post this before I mess with it or rethink it or lose it entirely. I had the luxury of spending my weekend with my wonderful female cousins and some friends I didn't know I had. We shared a house, laughs, tears, hugs, worries, terrifying secrects, stupid moments, good food, and copious amounts of alcohol. At some point my openess about my OCD came into play and one of my cousins poignantly asked what it was I feared would happen if I didn't do my rituals. I'm sick now. The skin that I'm not even sure is mine begins to crawl. There is no answer. There is no begining. It just can't be.
I just realized that this post could go on and on but it has led to other thoughts and instead of holding on to this one I need to start others.
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