Obsessive Compulsive

Essie, The Accidental Mommy is hosting (insert dramatic theme music here) Too True Tuesday: Compulsive Behaviors. Write about your obsessive or compulsive behaviors and then share them with the world. Doesn't that sound like fun?

Well, as I sit here at 1:12 AM because of stupid insomnia, nothing readily comes to mind. This is disturbing because I often write about depression and all of the issues that accompany it: paranoia, anxiety, paranoid schizophrenia, schizophrenic paranoia*, etc. I've been cursed with a bunch of garbage in my psyche, so at least I'd like to get some laughs out of it.

Nothin'.

Oh! Oh! Oh! Here's something: I really hate to be confined. Like I'm in absolute terror if someone tries to restrain me in any way, shape, or form. I don't mind elevators, as long as there are no other people on them. I had to breathe my way out of a panic attack when we entered a dark tunnel to see the sharks at Sea World, not because I dislike dark tunnels, but because there were people everywhere and I couldn't imagine how I would get out if I had to. I hate feeling "caged in" at all - like if I'm at a restaurant where there is a long booth and someone has to be stuck in the middle and not have free access to the outside world, that someone cannot be me. I guess this is called claustrophobia. However, I have no problem squeezing into a tight space if I am completely able to get myself out. It's when the escape route is closed off that I panic.

And it's not just tight spaces, but tight clothing or blankets snuggled around me. I like a cozy blanket in winter just as much as the next person, but if one of my kids comes up and sits on the outside of the blanket, therefore restraining my movement at all, I will freak. out. Forget zipping myself into a sleeping bag - no way is that ever happening. I even have to choose my pajamas carefully. I do not wear pajama pants to bed, I do not wear long nightgowns, and I do not wear silk or satin or flannel. My pajamas pretty much have to be jersey-knit cotton and have the capacity to stretch into the next room if I need it to. I don't even care for socks on my feet in bed: If I do wear them for warmth (I live in Michigan and we've had bucket loads of snow this year!), I will end up tearing them off furiously in the night. You wonder where all those missing socks go? They're all crammed under the covers at the end of my bed.

Now, Essie has written about her phobia of spiders and her constant need to scan the room for them. I also have arachnophobia, but I think the severity of hers has mine beat. However, if I were confined in a small space with spiders, I'm pretty sure I would need a padded room for the rest of my life. . . .a very large padded room.

*These statements are made solely for the reader's entertainment: I do not have, nor have I have ever had, schizophrenia. I think.