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!
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