Spotlight on: My sanity
Now, I’m the first to admit I’m one voice-no-one-else-hears away from being escorted to a psychiatric ward under a 5150 hold.
I’m the most screwy, germaphobic, superstitious, obsessive compulsive, hypochondriac you’ll ever meet.
Most people’s phobias are of snakes, or spiders, or height. I, on the other hand, like to mix things up and go against the grain, so I’ve developed a fear of death (thantophobia, obviously I needed a title to diagnose myself), and my favorite, an irrational fear of becoming violently ill in public.
I obsess over neatness and aesthetics. If things have the potential of being symmetrical, and they’re not, help me God I will have a conniption. And when things fit into place, a shiver of ecstasy travels through me. If my notes aren’t neat, I will rewrite them until they’re to my liking, over, and over again. Imperfect capitalization and mismatched sizing will throw me into a fit of rage. I won’t let you know, but in my head, World War III going on. If I think of something, and can’t deal with it or be a part of it at that moment, the thought of it will plague me and probably send me to an early death. If I don’t remember exactly where I put that blue pen, or if I accidentally put my dry clean only shirt in the laundry, or if I left the straightener on (sidenote: it’s never on), I will not think of anything else or talk about anything else until I can resolve it. When people joke about “not being able to sleep at night until I figure xyz out”, cut to me at 3am, staring at a blank wall, then we’ll see who’s laughing. You call me crazy, I call it attention to detail…
Black cats crossing my path could probably kill me instantly. And, don’t get me started on knocking on wood. I may or may not play it off like my wood bracelet is for style, but we all know why I really wear it. I make a wish at every 1:11, 2:22, 3:33 etc. because me and every other 9 year old believes their wish will come true.
I’ve either had, have, or will contract every illness and disease. I’m certain, because I have the worst luck (that’s probably a diagnosable condition). Every headache is undiscovered brain cancer. Every bug bite has infected me with Malaria. Heartburn isn’t so fun, when it’s actually a heart attack. Allergies aren’t so friendly when it’s actually its menacing counterpart: anaphylactic shock. I have self-induced panic attacks. From what? Thinking I’m going to have a panic attack. It’s a deranged catch 22, eh? What was the first application to be downloaded on my iPhone? As if you couldn’t guess, WebMD. I’m convinced that even by talking about a disease, I can catch it. If your grandfather had a stroke, I know I’m next. If you talk about the flu, I’m pretty sure I can catch it just by hearing it being talked about. That’s what they mean by airborne illness, right?
I mean, other than those disparities, I guess I’m like the rest of you,
G
