When I was younger my Great Grandmother told and retold the story every Thanksgiving of a man who walked the streets of Italy eating Lupini beans (of the legume family for any non-mediterraneans reading this ) and tossing the skins behind him. As he tossed the skins there was another man who apparently was so hungry he picked up the Lupini skins and ate them. I don't know how long this man followed the other around Italy eating his scraps and I don't recall the point of the story. I do recall hearing it many times and every time I remember thinking, "That's disgusting", while thinking of all the saliva, dirt and bodily fluids that covered those bean skins. I even lost my appetite for nearly four minutes.
That may have been the first clue that young Chrissy had one of many forms of OCD.
Present day: Though I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks this I realize I may be in the minority here. Whenever I feel something wet hit me while walking, or see something weird on my burger, I always think, "Was that semen?" When the young boy smiles at me while handing over my morning coffee...I have to wonder. Why else would anyone smile at 6am?
I was caught in a rainstorm recently. It was coming down hard. (that's what she said) I had five blocks to walk and needed to get home where I was certain my over-anxious dog was stuck in the hamper, hiding because of the thunder. I decided not to wait out the storm and to just run in the rain. And I love running in rain. How fun does it look in the movies, right? But what they don't show you in the movies is how fucking impossible it is to run in the rain while wearing sandals. You may as well shellac your shoes with baby oil because the result is the same. So instead of fighting the inevitable ankle sprain I took my shoes off and bolted. A half of a block later I realized I was running through the 'hood with bare feet. All of a sudden that childhood fear of getting AIDS in my feet began to creep in. I stopped and looked down. The ground looked clear of needles, used condoms and Magic Johnson, but I still wasn't convinced I was safe. For the next several blocks I walked diligently home, monitoring my every step for anything that could infect my body. Twenty minutes later I arrived safely home, soak and wet from tip-toeing through the streets, and found my dog locked in the bathroom at the bottom of the hamper.
Just last week a womyn at bingo sneezed and blew herpes on me, and some semen too, apparently. At least that's what it felt like.
Don't even get me started on sweaty male mustaches and all the funk they transmit. Never trust a mustache. It's like over-fondling a pigeon.
While there is a downside to having OCD, there is also an upside as well. You become much more organized and usually smell awesome. And it's probably why I love movies like Pulp Fiction, 21 Grams and Memento. Look at me with my glass half full.
While I admit my cognitive thought process has always been one in question, I still am not ready to pop a pill. I prefer natural alternatives. Like recently I started "meditating". I hear it works well if you can peel your eyes from your fellow meditators and focus on nothing. I have a hard time with that. You have to surrender and trust all that's around you, so there's also THAT obstacle. And while it's best I shut my mouth for a while it still feels unnatural to have all those floating thoughts bottled up and levitating above my Higher Self.
It's kinda funny to watch a person who has OCD and A.D.D. sit in silence. All sorts of random thoughts (more so than the average day) make their way to the surface. Thoughts with no beginning or ending, like "the last salmon" just show up out of nowhere. And it's funny, so I laughed. It'll take some time. And while it's hard to shut off your cell phone for a few hours there's many benefits to meditating. I believe many relationships could benefit from some silence. Some people even look prettier when they have nothing to say. I've had some of my worst and best times alone with my silence. (looking off to side and smiling) And if that doesn't work there's always SAMe...or boxed wine.
I gotta go, the waiter just spilled a drink on me. Or did he?...