A little bit crazy ~updated~

I've been reading a lot lately, I've come across some interesting references.  The latest was in the book Fallout by Ellen Hopkins.  It is actually the third in a series, but I haven't read the first two.  It is written from the perspective of 3 children of the same meth addict although they live very different lives. (the first 2 in the series are written from the meth addicts perspective) One of the daughters talks about OCD, panic attacks and being "just a little bit crazy".  It got me thinking about myself and my own "little bit of crazy".

I've often eluded to my OCD, I've joked about my obsessions, mentioned my superstitions, but I'm not sure if I've ever really taken the time to let people understand although part of me is kidding, a larger part is not.

For as long as I can remember I've had little superstitions, but not what some might expect.  It's not the normal lucky rabbits foot, or saying "rabbit rabbit" on the first of the month to bring good luck all month. (Thanks D for that one, I still remember you telling me your dad did that every month when we were in grade 3) it's not avoiding the number 13, or not walking user ladders. (Although that does make me uncomfortable)

Mine center around objects.  Around random mundane things.  Logically I know luck isn't based on what hair elastic I use, or what pair of underwear I wear, but in my little bit of crazy mind, these things matter. 

It spreads like wild fire and enters other parts of my life.  I keep a cleaning schedule because it is an obsession I can't ignore.  Very rarely have I ever been able to turn this off, but having kids has helped it. I have had to let some things go, at least in the short term to still allow my kids to be kids, explore and play, but as soon as they are done with an activity, it is like something is not right in my world.  I need to clean it up.  I need to make it right again.

I noticed this most recently when my hubby J offered to help while we prepared to host Christmas dinner with family.  I knew I wasn't going to clean like crazy because in all reality I'd just need to do it again once everyone left, but still things needed to be freshened up. Joel laughed at me because what started with "I'm just going to clean the bathrooms" turned into a full out clean in some areas. But that's not what I noticed.  When I noticed my little bit of crazy start talking to me was when Joel offered to vacuum the downstairs.  It's something I can usually let Joel do, so I happily took him up on his offer.  Until I came downstairs.  I could feel the voice start talking.  I could tell my palms were getting sticky and I knew I had two choices. 

So how do you mess up vacuuming a room?  Well you don't really.  Except when I vacuum I use straight lines.  Our carpet it the type that the vacuum leaves marks, and I need those lines to be straight.  To be even.  To be present.  While J did vacuum his way, his way included random lines.  To him, as long as it was all done, who cared where he started and ended?! Except he forgot about the monster that lives inside of me.  I realized as I walked down the stairs and my immediate reaction was to re vacuum a just vacuumed floor that my crazy was talking too loudly.  It was time to take some time away, go back up stairs and not think about it.  Although it took EVERY piece of me not to redo something my hubby so sweetly did for me, it was hard. 

It is hard to put these feelings into words.  I've never had to before.  I'm not even sure if my own parents realize how I deal with these things on a daily basis.   J notices it and sometimes comments, but I try to let some feelings and urges simmer.  I have it easy from a lot of people, I don't wash my hands 17 times, but I do make sure the volume on the TV is on an even number (unless it is a, multiple of 5, then an exception is made, except for 5 itself).  I don't unlock and lock the doors over and over again, but I do wait for the garage door to close all the way before getting out of sight.  I don't count how many brush strokes I use daily to brush my hair, but I do keep track of certain clothing options that can not go together because of what might occur, underwear that I deem "bad luck", and sunglasses that have been thrown away because of the days outcome when I wore them.

It's funny because even though I know most people probably do not have these little habits in their life, I am finding it hard to recall them as I write.  I need to think really hard about the things I do because ultimately I do them because I feel that's the way it should be.

I don't really have an ending to this post, so I'll just leave it as here is a little insight into my life and hopefully you can better understand me as a person.