The story of a "crazy"....not so much a story as a novel........enjoy (if you like novels that is)

Disclaimer (I seem to be making a lot of these lately): The story that follows is again, personal, and not intended to make light the seriousness of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or anyone who suffers from it. Having suffered from it myself I can assure you that it is a very REAL disorder that takes over the mind and is very difficult to overcome. These things, these fears, for me were VERY real and in essence, RULED my EVERY ACTION and took all of the will power I possessed (and an older sister who was ordered to keep a very close eye on me) to overcome it.

Now.....having said that I can now say that I quite enjoy these memories and get a good laugh from them.... so will you (I hope).

It has taken many years of self-evaluation and analyzation and sorting through memory after memory to try to determine how each piece of the "crazy" puzzle fit together. I'm sure at one point I was a normal, healthy child and then one day I became "Super Crazy Melanie, only, not-so-crazy-outside-of-my-home (which is unusual for people with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. They usually do fine inside their homes....have you ever seen "As Good As It Gets? Anyhow........).

Now like I said before, my disorder, focussed mainly around anxiety which is what?.....Fear. So, essentially, anything I was afraid of I had to take "control" of and in the process of trying to "control" it, I lost control. Here's my story.

I think it must have all started in the fifth grade. Something about fifth grade rings a bell but I have no specific memories. My "oh so scary crazy side" must have just been laying dormant waiting for the right time to emerge.

Cause #1
I was afraid of throwing up. I mean, no one likes to throw up, but I was actually afraid of it. I had not thrown up since I was quite young and I had forgotten what it was like. Nothing is more fearful than the unknown, right, so........hence my fear of vomit, it is what started the whole blasted mess.

One day in sixth grade a boy in my class, named Armondo, threw up on the stairs to our class trailer. Everyone saw it and had to step over it to get back to class and I had to sit next to him. I must have been really embarrassed for him because I went home and told my mom how bad I felt for him because of it (I don't remember telling my mom, but she does). Lucky for me....Armondo sat next to me in class and always chewed Fruit Stripe Gum...so....to me, Fruit Stripe Gum = throw up, and I never chewed it again.

A little first grader, while we were practicing Spanish Christmas carols (I was in Spanish immersion and every year we sang Christmas carols at the mall) threw up in the front row (I was in the back). The teachers had to take him out, while he was still barfing in a garbage can, and he had to walk in front of all of us to get out. Hence, rule #1 and #2 were born.

Rule #1 NEVER throw up in public. This means.....avoid all confined spaces, you will never get out in time.....just in case, right?

Rule #2 When in public, always keep track of the nearest garbage can. That way, you can barf in there. There is already a liner, and some of them are portable. You can take them with you while you run our of the room (just like the little boy).

Our classroom, at school, was really small. I started suffering from anxiety attacks. I would get all this, who knows what, pent up inside and it would cause my stomach to do flips which would make me think I had to throw up (remember, I couldn't remember what it ACTUALLY felt like to be nauseated so I had no idea that I wasn't actually sick). It didn't take me too long to realize that if I could just walk around a bit and breath I could calm myself down so.....at a very young age (which, the counselor I went to see a few years ago was amazed with) I learned that when this happened I just needed to buy some time to relax so I would keep an extra pencil on my desk so I could get up, during class discussions, and pretend to sharpen my pencil. It worked most of the time. I only remember twice actually running out of the classroom after the whole pencil sharpening thing didn't seem to be working for me (once in 6th grade, once in 7th grade). I must have had very kind teachers because both time they just asked me if I was alright and let it drop (thank you Ms. King and Mr. Hansen). Oh....and I once ran away from my sister. We were looking through some of her first aid books at the kitchen table and I guess I couldn't stomach it. I politely excused myself ("excuse me") and went tearing down the hall to my mother room, screaming and yelling that I was going to throw up, over and over again (It's too bad I can't record an audio version of Christy imitating me and post it......she does a REALLY good impression).

So....as time went on I began to incorporate things into "my crazy", as I saw fit, that would help me to better "control" my world.
My brother got food poisoning at a restaurant (he ate some bad shrimp but also had a huge plate of spaghetti) and threw up on my mom's new sage green carpet. She spent hours scrubbing red sauce from said carpet (and from off the cupboards in the hall) and I heard her, in the morning say something like "all over my carpet, I wish he would have gotten to the bowl (which was right across the hall). Now, I never wanted my mother to have to clean up my throw up so.....

Rule #3 Never eat red sauce on your spaghetti (In fact, I stopped eating anything I could ever remember ANYONE throwing up aka. corn dogs--kimberly 1st grade, rice krispies- tory 3rd grade (and on my pillow, I might add....I didn't eat them again until after I was in college), Mi Ranchito-Andrew and Stacy unknown time, and the list goes on and on.)

Rule #4 Never sleep without a bowl next to your bed (just in case)

Rule #5 Never step in that spot on the carpet again (I don't know how many years I spent jumping over the spot I had seen the towel covering that morning...too many).

About the time I started sleeping with a bowl next to my bed (you could say it was my security blanket) I had developed a nightly routine. It consisted of things that could either hinder my way in getting to the toilet in time, just in case of course, or things that would burn my house down (by this time, as well, I had had a few friends whose houses had burned down. One because of a curling iron and one because clothes got under the water heater. See what I mean about continually incorporating things.......always incorporating). Once the routine was in full swing, it went like this: Everyone was in bed, I started in the bathroom. Toilet seat up, ALL small appliances (curling irons, blow dryers, etc) unplugged, rugs straight, shower curtain pulled closed, flick lights on and off in increments of 7, check everything all over again.......exit. Make sure nothing is in hall. Straighten hall rug. Go into kitchen. Unplug all small appliances (toasters, etc), straighten rugs, check and re-check back door lock, lights...again in 7's, check everything again....exit. Living room. Since this was not in my path to the bathroom, as long as all lamps were unplugged, I was good.....exit. Straighten already straight hall rug, again. Down the stairs (which had to be free of all debris) to the landing (split entry). Straighten rug.......lights inside and out in increments of 7, bolt and unbolt the dead bolt, again, 7 times.......re-straighten the rug.......down the next flight of stairs (with the same routine on that landing). Into laundry room. Check under the water heater for clothes. Recheck under the water heater for clothes. Swipe the broom under the water heater for dirt, dust....and of course, any clothes I may have not seen the first two times. Then, down on my knees to "just make sure." Push all clothes away from heater......flick lights in 7's. Finally, into my room. Once there I would crawl into bed, pull my bowl out from underneath and set it on the table. Breath a sigh of relief. That is for 2 or 3 seconds. Most of the time, I would worry that something didn't get done and I would go do the whole routine AT LEAST one or two more times that night. And that was only if someone did not come home. You see.....I had older teenage siblings who had late curfews. If I was still awake when one of them came home, I would lie in bed waiting for them to go to bed and start the routine all over again. Sometimes it would be done 6 or 7 times in one night. Sounds exhausting doesn't it? Well.....it was.

Eventually raw meat came into play because one day I put a piece of raw chicken between my teeth (who the heck knows why) and my sister said, "Ew.....don't do that. It could have salmonella and that will make you throw up." Oh....all heck broke loose from there. I was a prisoner in my own home. I refused to touch ANYTHING in the kitchen with my hands, especially if my mom was cooking meat. I opened everything with my feet (even the upper cupboards, luckily for me I was a gymnast and I could reach them that way). If, for some reason, I was forced to touch a handle or towel, i would wash my hands 2-3 times in the kitchen and another 2-3 times in the bathroom and would not dry them (who knows what other people had touched before they touched the towel)......my hands got pretty bad. I ended up damaging several layers of skin. Which actually, eventually, became my door to freedom.

In tenth grade (4-5 years after it all began) my dad took me to a dermatologist so he could have a look at my hands/wrists (which I swear were not much more than a tiny layer of skin covering the bone...okay not that bad but close). The Dr. asked me a few questions then turned to my dad and said, "I think she needs more help than just mine. I think she may need to see a psychiatrist." I was horrified. In the car, on the way home, my dad turned to me and said, "Melanie, you can take care of this on your own." It clicked. I think I was just so tired and soooooo ready to be done with it that I fought with all my might to get over it from that point on (although my parents believe they were already seeing improvements before then, I just don't remember it that way).

At first I was given allowance to do my routine ONCE a night......ONCE. That was it. My sister, who I shared a bed with, was given strict instructions not to let me out of my bed after the ONCE and eventually, I was not allowed to do it at all. The bowl was no longer allowed to come up on top of the night stand, from there it could not come out from under the bed, until eventually it went upstairs. I will never forget the first night I slept without it. I came up stairs, the sun was coming in the kitchen window, the bowl was on the kitchen counter (it has just been freed from it's years worth of dust) and my mom said to me "You did it." It was invigorating.

The only complaint my parents ever had after that was that THEY now had to make sure the house was secured for the night and they hadn't had to do it for years. My dad said he was going to miss that much, at least.

So......years and years later I count myself mostly cured. I still sometimes catch myself looking for the nearest garbage can in really confined courters (movie theaters, the grocery store, the temple, he he it's true), I still am pretty cautious with raw meats (although having three children leaves me no time or energy to spend an hour and a half cleaning up after chicken (which i have pulled out of the freezer in a plastic bag, inside of another plastic bag and taken out of the bag with disposable gloves)). I like to think that I take the normal precautions anyone, in MY generation, would to clean up after myself (sorry Mom and Cathy.....you still don't meet my standards of cleanliness as far as raw stuff is concerned(but like my momma says, "I haven't poisoned anyone yet...and it's true.)......Thank you Rob for humoring me when I am in the room....(who knows what you do when my back is turned)....and only rolling your eyes sometimes. What a sweet boy).

As said before, when you are in the thick of it......not so funny.....in fact, very far from funny.....but, now I enjoy it. It is just a reminder of a few things: #1 The mind is a very powerful thing; #2 Fear can, and eventually will, eat you alive; #3 There is no greater support than that of your family; and lastly but most importantly #4 The LORD is on your side. He can and will help you to overcome ANY obstacle you face.

I hope you enjoyed the novel. If you thought it was too long, or didn't like it, then sorry, but if you are reading this then you have no one to blame but yourself for completing it.

I promise the next few posts will be REALLY short to make up for it. He He!

Flippen' funny story....no, still not the OCD one....but still VERY funny!

Okay, so this story is not mine. I heard it on the radio the other day but laughed for hours over it (actually I am still laughing a little inside when I think about it......okay, even a lot sometimes.).

So........this man on a local "talk radio" show called in the other day to relate this story about his sister (now mind you, this is my version of the story......nothing is to be passed off as a quote unless it is in "quotation" marks, okay?).

She was in Vegas playing the slots and doing really well, you know, cleaning up the place. She had a HUGE bucket of quarters and decided to call it a night (early morning would be my guess....but anyway)

She was feeling very nervous carrying around this large sum of money (how much money can you have in a bucket really....okay, I will stop making wise cracks, the story is funny enough without them) and made her way quickly to the elevators that would take her up to her room.

When the elevator doors opened she was even more frightened because standing against the back wall were "two big black guys" and here she was, all by herself with all this loot (side note from the caller, "Now my sister is not racist. In fact, she is as far from being racist as anyone could be. She was highly suspicious of everyone, and the fact that they were pretty big guys scared her to death). So here she is shaking in her underpants and one of the men says, "Hit the floor."

She didn't even hesitate. She droped to the floor in a panic, quarters go flying everywhere, and the two man start laughing hysterically. She, feeling quite foolish, as she is now lying on the floor of an elevator, stands up slowly and stares straight ahead at the doors until it reaches her floor.

The two men help her pick up her money and even INSIST on walking her to her room to make sure that both she and her quarters get there safely.

The next morning she comes out of her room to find a dozen roses, each with $100 bill wrapped around the stem and a note that says,

"Thanks for the best laugh we have had in years." Love, Micheal Jordan and Eddie Murphy

Isn't that great. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Heck, I'm still laughing.

Oh....what could have become of me?

So after this latest entry I thought it might be a good idea to start an anonymous blog so I could vent all of my frustrations and annoyances and mean things I had to say about myself, other people, places, and circumstances. See....I want this (as in Testosterone Overload) blog to be happy and, like I said before, I try to look for positive things to write about so that I am focusing on the good things is life but sometimes I just want to vent. I had a few ideas. Maybe I would just have a blog where I could write but no one would have access to it (what would be the point?....I know). Maybe I could just invite a few people (whom of course I would not write about) to view it.....and maybe i would just invite the whole world to be a part of my negative word vomit (for venting sake only, of course).

I set it up. I even spent quite a long time thinking about what I would call it and how I would run it, etc. But......I just couldn't do it. I never posted one entry. Not that I wouldn't have things to say. Ohhhhh, I could come up with plenty to say, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how bad of an idea it would be for me (I could get soooooo carried away). I was afraid it would poison my soul. Over and over I thought to myself, "It will poison your soul....don't do it." So, who knows whether or not I am just crazy and have voices in my head or whether or not it was the Lord trying to warn me of the consequences of such actions. Either way, I deleted the blank blog this morning. It was a hard thing to give it up but.....I did it.

So what does that have to do with you, you are asking? Well, I may, every once and a while, have to post a gripe or an annoyance just to get it out of my system but all-in-all I hope to keep this as nice and happy as possible. Deal.....okay, Deal. Let's shake on it.

WARNING>>>>>RANTING AND RAVING AHEAD!

So I had a few minutes today and thought I would spit out some things that are eating away at me right now. I normally try to keep my blog up tempo and peppy and try to look for things that are positive to write about so.....if you are looking for something uplifting to read today, you may want to rethink reading this entry. Now, normally I do not bear all for the world to read but today you will be given an insight into some of my major flaws and insecurities.

Disclaimer: This entry is personal and in no way do I mean to offend anyone.

#1 I am getting fat. At least I feel like it. In a matter of months I have gone from feeling really in shape to super flabby. I am talking cottage cheese, upper thigh/ bottom blending, love handles.....the works (except that miraculously I have shrunken considerably on top, after weening the baby, of course). In all reality I am only up three pounds from my long running goal weight (the weight I ALWAYS come back to after each baby),(actually I am technically up 8 lbs from Christmas time but I was borderline starving myself then to try to loose weight so that doesn't count. I am looking to keep myself at a "healthy weight" not a sickly one). I have worked hard after 4 pregnancies to get back down to my goal weight and stay there. I have started off each of my last three pregnancies at this said goal weight and even managed to stay there until the first weigh-in at 10 weeks. I'm afraid that next time I wont be so lucky and it is REALLY ticking me off.

So last night I had a conversation with Rob that went like this:

Me: "I don't understand what is going on. I spend almost 8 hours in the gym a week and I'm still getting fat." "I don't think I eat any differently now than I have after the other kids so what the heck is going on?"

Rob (after several moments of silence): "Well, you do snack a lot more than you used to."

Me: "Um.....when?"

Rob: "Well....mostly at night."

Now, if there is one thing Rob has learned in our six years of marriage is that he is to NEVER agree with me when I make comments like this and to tell you the truth.....I was in complete shock. He normally just smiles at me or says "I don't know what you are talking about, you look fine." To which I usually respond (and, on occasion, warn him that he is about to be backed into a corner), "Fine, I look fine. I don't want to look fine. I want to look good." You can imagine at this point he turns the corner and run. But......it has been a long time....if ever, that he has actually agreed with me. (Later he told me that he only said it because I never seem to be satisfied with the answers he gives me....surprise, surprise.....I'll admit to that.......... so he just wanted to try a new tactic......Well, news flash Rob, stick to the old method....it will get you in a lot less trouble).

A million thoughts were going through my head at this point, some of which included:

"Excuse me....what the crap did you just say to me"

"If he's noticing enough to say something then it must really be bad. I AM A FATTY"

"How the heck would you know what my usual night time habits are. You worked swing shift and graveyards for three years. Then you started a normal job, I had the baby, and began starving myself to drop the weight so what the heck are you talking about, you and your "snacking more at night."

For some strange reason, I didn't bite his head off this time. Instead I could only think about what food was in the cupboard so I could drown my sorrows.

Now, to those of you that are mocking me for my slight weight gain you can stop now. I KNOW that I am not overweight and I KNOW that three pounds is not a big deal but I am terrified at the prospects of being overweight. I always have been and always will be and I hope, this alone, will be enough motivation to keep me above the red line....if you know what I mean.
I am not one who is blessed with "skinny jeans" (no, not the actual jeans, the DNA) and have to work really hard to maintain my weight only now I am not maintaining. I can't spend any more time exercising, my body is worn out as it is, and I suffer from a compulsive eating habit. I worry that if I don't get that under control there will be no end for the weight gain. There is hope for that, however, if I can just commit myself. I HAVE dealt successfully with compulsive behaviors before and if I really set my mind to it, I can do it again (now that is another blog story.....I bet it could be a pretty funny one too....maybe later). Any words of encouragement?

Okay, onto "things on my mind" #2

Why do I feel guilty for only spending $10 on Isaac's birthday gifts? Could it be because we went way overboard on Gabe's first birthday? Is it because, although we were able to control ourselves much better the second time around, we spent far more than $10 on Cael's first birthday? Or is it because we are currently unemployed and I feel like a complete loser because of it ("I can't even throw our child a descent birthday party.")? The answer is: D. All of the above

Then I got to thinking. (Could someone please bring me a soap box.......thanks)

First of all, Isaac is one year old and although it may be a significant milestone in a child's life.....he has NO idea what a birthday is and, I'm sure, could really care less at this point. He will have presents to open and children his age really only enjoy ripping the wrapping paper off and play with it instead of the actual gift. Secondly, Isaac doesn't need any more toys. We have more than enough and even if we did get him something, the older boys would never give him a chance to play with it, so why bother. And thirdly (this is when the real soap boxing starts), our children, in our lovely AMERICAN society are far to "bought off" for their good. We are made to think that through, and only through, the purchase and giving of "things" is there a worthy show of love. I have obviously fallen into the trap else why would I be feeling guilty about not spending $100's of dollars on a child for their birthday. I'm hoping that when his birthday does come and I see that he DOES love his presents (despite the little amount of money spent on them), I will be able to put aside my concern about not being able to "buy" my child's affection and see that he loves me just the same.

(Exit soap box)

Thirdly, sometime it bothers me that I am so sensitive to things sometimes. The Lord knew I would be (amazing that He knows just how my brain is wired), and warned me about it long ago. Now granted, I have not always heeded his warning but I am trying really hard to. What this all means is that while other are allowed to enjoy certain types of entertainment, I am very limited by what I can handle without repercussions. Consequently, I miss out on some things that others really enjoy. I guess I really shouldn't complain, because it is kind of a blessing in some ways but.........how do I explain?.......okay, for instance, I started reading these really good books. Well written, tasteful, clean, and very entertaining. So, I whizz through the first book and start the second. Now, I did have a few questions about the way the first book made me feel (aka uncontrollable mood swings) but I couldn't put it down so.......I didn't. I started the second book and found myself very depressed and very irritable but I kept going and kept going until I realized what was happening. I put the book down and the feelings went away. So.....I started, yet again, another clean, happy, joyful Christian romance novel. It's crazy. Why aren't other people affected like I am? Millions of people, many of whom I love and respect (that includes the one who lent me the books.....you know who you are), rave about these books. So why can't I like them? Why me? Why me?

I guess I am destined to read Mormon and Christian romance novels, oh and a bit of Jane Austin, for the rest of my days. Same old, same old............

Well, enough of me today. Now that these things are off my shoulder hopefully I can pick up and move on. Long gone are the thoughts of yesterday.....I will look forward to tomorrow (or something like that).

Feel free to leave comments if you are flabbergasted by my bluntness. I don't know what got into me. Thanks for letting me get it out.

Wow...that was a long one.....and without any pictures. No fun. No fun at all.

A night out and Mountain High Mudd Pie...what more could you ask for?

I had a super good time with "the girls" the other night. We went to Red Robin and I had a very tasty (mmmmm tasty....slurp. I miss you Tessa) meal of some chicken, brushetta, pesto thing with yummy fries (I love fries) and to top it all of.....Mountain High Mudd Pie. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful in your entire lives? I must say......not many things can top it.

That sucker is HUGE! From top to bottom this thing is pure yummy-ness.

It doesn't take much time for me to finish it off and don't you dare even THINK about asking to share it with me. I don't take kindly to that (I did however spend more than 7 hours in the gym that week in order to justify it's consumption and have already spent 6 hours this week, with a 6 1/2 mile run planned for tomorrow, in order to take care of the aftermath). Let me tell you.....It is soooooooo worth it.

The food was great, the company was great (I met two fantastic new girls) and after dinner Val (center), Sheena (right of center) and I went to Val's house and stayed up really late chatting and giggling like I did with my girlfriends in high school/college. Good Times.....noodle salad! (Shout out to Stephanie, Tressa, Leslie and Jessica. Why don't we ever get together?)

If you are wondering about Rob. Yes....I did and often do leave him to feed, bathe and put the children to bed on such occasions but afterwards he gets a whole night of playing the X-box without me sitting at his side trying to "girl talk" him to death. I think he is more than happy to see me go every once in a while. Thanks honey, for being so supportive. I love you for it.

Girls......until next time.........