I was never told my any medical professional that I had any illness about being compulsive. This might because I never told anyone about this THING that now controlled my life. It sounds crazy because it was but here is an example of a typical day.
I would wake up and immediately look at the clock. If if was 7:13 a.m. I was on the road to a good day provided all my other rituals worked. If I woke up at 7:15 my day was already ruined. I believed 5 was evil. There was then the 23 steps that I took to gather my things and walk into the bathroom. One day it occurred to me that 2 plus 3 was 5. I needed one more actual step to make 24 steps to the bathroom because 2 plus 4 was 6. I can't even explain the problem I had with 15 it was 5s but 3, 5s. All and all this is the world's worst way to learn math.
I had started smoking cigarettes and marijuana. Cigarettes could only be smoked for 3 minutes. (Those of you out there who always said, "why do you smoke half a cigarette?" the answer wasn't really that I was" cutting back"). I preferred to light a cigarette at anytime ending in 3 and put it out three minutes later on the six. Never light or put out a cigarette on a 5. Smoking marijuana had no rules. Anytime, anywhere.
Eating was done in three bites or in sections of three bites. I chewed my food in numbers ending in three. M&Ms were always eaten in groups of three. Nine, nine was awesome, almost too good to be true because it was 3, 3s. Nirvana for anything nine.
I checked everything 3 times. Were my cigarettes in my purse, check 3 times. Did I lock the door? Check 3 times. Did I unplug the iron or the electric rollers? Check 3 times.
Now bear in mind that all of the compulsion, and there were stranger things that I won't ever admit too, was a constant running conversation with myself in the back of my head. I didn't tell anyone I was nuts. I thought of it as a control system. Soon things had to be in their place. Everything went somewhere if it got moved I became filled with anxiety and moved it back when no one was looking. I thought of this as organization. Never, ever, put certain things on the bed. Never, ever, walk or drive down certain streets. Always, always, always listen to the same song three times in a row. Always start walking with your right foot.
The phone had to be answered on the second ring. That way in case I was late it would be 3 rings which was OK but 4 rings was way too close to five rings and that would mean doom.
Yes, I decided one day, I was indeed crazy. This could not possibly what normal people did, count everything, fret if the glass wasn't in the correct spot on the counter, smoke for three minutes. I could see myself in that bed where I had seen dad. I wasn't going there. My life was spiraling out of control from control. Husband number 2 finally cured of this habit in the most unusual way. Even today, though I do not count to myself and worry about number on the clock, I still have one remaining issue. I sit in one spot at home. My "things" are in their place lined up where they belong. I sweat a little if someone moves them but I don't think I will die from it anymore.
Next chapter: I are a high school graduete with no scillz..
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