Category: OCD

Here We Are in Paradise, or something like that ;-)

This summer has been spent so far settling into our new lives, fixing up our house, figuring out how to live together. There are ups and downs, but in between I can look out my windows and see green everywhere, and if I’m lucky, random animals.

The area we moved to is similar to our last one in that it’s many small towns running into the city. But there are so many farms. Farm stands, farm stores, farm markets. It’s like I’m back in North Carolina; I go buy all the veggies and fruit, then get stuff to go with it at the grocery store.

My oldest son is taking cooking classes in the city, so we’ve gone exploring the shopping that way. My youngest is turning into my hiking and swimming buddy. There are so many places to hike, many of them accessible. Mom is getting rolled all over nature once it’s cooler. Mostly I’ve taken her to the dentist, doctor, and out to eat lately. Her anxiety has been elevated since we had what turned out to be the move from hell: three month edition, bouncing around rentals. Even when she wasn’t living with us, she was coming to visit two different houses. The constant was me, and now she is fine when I’m home but starts to lose her mind if I go anywhere. D. can reassure her when she isn’t sundowning but early afternoon? Forget it. Plus she has had many…rather, shall we say, FUCKING HORRENDOUS experiences with men since she met my late asshole stepfather, so she can be a real grouch toward everyone in the family but me.

We are adjusting her meds to add one specifically for anxiety, because most of her sundowning has a very OCD flavor. We get creative too. She can’t stand to see us standing or sitting around for example. She’ll come out of her room and try to give us a job. Dan complained about this to me and I said “Oh she does that to me too. I just pretend I’m doing something.” I showed him my fake counter wipe with the nearest rag. If I’m playing video games, I’m “waiting on a text/email back from someone on the internet. Oh, there it is! Gotta finish this form.” (Half the time this IS true. I’m lining up dentists, doctors, eye doctors, therapists, new licenses, schools, and occasionally contractors if Dan can’t catch them.) The sky is the damn limit, okay? Call me Nurse Pragmatism.

Mom is also slowly coming off some of the meds they had her on in the memory care from her WV experience. She’s still on several and it gets confusing as hell. The memory care had them all in neat little bubble packs, but now that it’s me and an organizer. I’m just thankful for my own OCD and a fast pharmacy. Also this Ninja soda machine, because she has a sweet tooth and was downing sodas so fast I could’ve paid the mortgage in bottle returns. Now I just make sure we have supplies. I order the berry blast nine bottles at a time.

We brought Jiji, the ex-feral cat, and after she took a giant dump in the travel carrier less than thirty minutes into the trip to convey her gratitude, she did fine the rest of the way. She is doing great as an indoor cat, and there’s no way she’s ever getting out with all these animals. We have things that can kill her, but she’s more likely to chase ten different rodents down the mountain and get lost. She’s really been everyone’s emotional support kitty. Thanks to Pacagen spray, the Purina anti-allergen food, and D’s year of allergy shots, she can actually sleep in our room, usually right by my head, or on it.

After nearly two years of uncertainty, packing, selling, moving, traveling, we finally made it to one house, where we want to be, and now the whole country is going to shit. Par for the course. I dissociate with nature. I watch the birds, wander off to hike, drive down by the river…on bad days I dream of wandering into the woods like that hermit guy in Maine and hiding out until humanity blows over. Or until humanity is over blowing.

Today the birds inspired this poem, which is not a happy one, but was very cathartic to write.

What’s Left

The remnants of dinosaurs hunt for food
in the shady branches outside the window,
reduced to surviving on bugs and seeds.

The remnants of my mother lounge in bed
the next room over, reduced to anxiously asking
for soda, toast, help with a shower, reassurance.

The remnants of my sanity banded together
almost as long as the dinosaurs roamed
and took off for parts unknown.

Sometimes I get a postcard with a photo
of a lovely vista or majestic wildlife.
Wish you were here.





Life: The Version of Record

I had a pretty bad meltdown this morning over having to leave my son. He was being extra-snuggly and clingy, and when he started crying so did I.

My job has been really stressful lately. And by lately I mean for months. I didn’t know what to expect starting out new after being in the same place for 17 years, so when things seemed difficult in the beginning, I figured it was just me adjusting. But I’m not adjusting very well. To make a long story short and vague, I am in a situation where it is exacerbating my OCD, and that in turn exacerbates the situation. I’m taking steps to get help, but it seems like a lot of the steps involve appointments which takes more time, and time is the currency where I always come up short. Continue reading “Life: The Version of Record” →

OCD Illustrated

A picture is worth a thousand words, right?

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This is my window sill covered in cinnamon.

After it rained, some ants tried to scout out my kitchen. I found them early in their explorations when they were beginning to come in at the back door and window. We have a little mud room out there where we keep the recycling, and the kitchen sink is right by the inner door too, so all those yummy recycling and dirty dish smells waft out and invite the ants in.

I saw them in the window first, and cinnamon is supposed to deter them, so I sprinkled a thin line in the crack of the window sill. That drove a few that had collected in the crack out into the open, and that is when I went ballistic with my cinnamon shaker flinging pie-scented murder all over the place.

I painted around the doors and inside the recycle bin with clove oil. They hate that too. That held the little bastards off until I ran out and got some terro traps.

I save lives*

One of the benefits of having OCD is that I’m reliable. I make plans. I make plans to make plans. I write things down, revise, cross out, and rewrite, and that’s just to go to the damn grocery store. I have plans A, B, C and sometimes nearly to Z if I’m stressing over something. Also, I’m prepared for nearly anything. I have a rotating line-up of doomsday scenarios running through my head on a daily basis, and for every “what if?” there’s usually a plan. Because I can’t get past the “what if” unless there’s a plan.

I know, I said it was a benefit. I’m getting there. Over-explaining is another problem I have.

Sometimes I honestly feel vindicated when shit happens, like I know it’s coming and I’m just waiting. I should, too, because I’ve had some crazy luck. The number of car wrecks alone is pretty impressive (over a dozen; thankfully none lately – *knocking on wood*). If I count getting the change robbed out of my unlocked car recently as a “burglary,” I’ve had five of those now. Times my husband almost died because of his allergies: at least five. Once I was even attacked by a squirrel. Every time something shitty happens, it confirms my notion that the universe is out to get me. But don’t worry, I’m not really that paranoid. Just pessimistic, because I think the universe is out to get us all.

So that’s the good part.

No really, I’m great in a crisis. Two examples: once I was in a car wreck with my husband, and we both got knocked out. As I was swimming in and out of consciousness I stuffed the keys, his wallet, and the cell phone all into my purse (which is large, because it carries first-aid items and talismans in addition to the usual wallet, hand cream, chapstick, bug spray, sun screen, notepad, pen, and phone) and then I tied my purse to my arm before I passed out and got loaded into the ambulance. When he woke up thinking his wallet and everything was sitting in a junkyard and we were going to have to send someone over to try to find it, I told him I got it all. No worries! Because I worry for myself and everyone I know!

The other example is the time he nearly died from a food allergy in D.C. After years of traveling alone for business, I decided to take him and our three-year-old daughter with me so they could explore the capital while I attended a conference. He even had tickets to the White House, and Obama was still president. On the morning of Day Two I woke up to choking noises, and he was writing me notes in crayon (red, wouldn’t you know) on the hotel notepad to “CALL 911.” Apparently he’d eaten something the night before and had a delayed reaction. When he woke up with his throat swelling, he tried to take an Allegra but things escalated quickly and he was about to lose his airway. I had to call 911 and get him downstairs. I had to wake our daughter up and put clothes on her (and me) and get wallets with IDs and insurance cards and snacks for later and I also got her handheld video game because I knew she’d be bored. While they loaded Dan up in the ambulance, I had five minutes before we were all transported, and I slung half that hotel room in my pockets and purse. The only thing I forgot was Dan’s coat.

When the shit-storm does arrive, I’m always the one with the umbrella. The problem is, I want to carry it around even when the sun is shining and then people start to look at me like I’m crazy.

 

*A quote from Jack Black as Georgie the Orderly in one of my favorite films of all time, Jesus’ Son