Many years ago when I lived with my parents we had a little storage shed in our backyard that my father had converted into a closet for me. I kept my dressy clothes in the outside closet and my everyday slob-wear indoors. Every time I had a concert or special occasion to attend I’d go out into my dressy clothes closet and try on outfits. On my way out, my troubles would begin. I knew I wouldn’t be back in the closet for a few days so I wanted to make sure I didn’t leave the light on but for some reason I could never really be sure I had turned the light off. I would flip the switch, lock the door with the key and then as I started to walk away I’d feel compelled to walk back and make sure I’d turned off the light. I’d unlock the door and flip the light switch again and say out loud, “I’m turning off the light.” Then I’d re-lock the door and walk away, somewhat satisfied that the deed was done.
As time passed, this simple ritual was unable to provide me with the kind of absolute certainty I required. It seemed to me that I couldn’t be sure that I had said “I’m turning off the light” on any given day because maybe I was just remembering having said it on another day so I started to add the day of week to my statement: “It’s Tuesday and I’m turning off the light.” That kept me happy for a while but even this method wasn’t fool proof because after all, there were many Tuesdays. As I walked away, I wondered if I was recalling the statement from a previous Tuesday. The feeling of uncertainty would haunt me and I’d find myself compelled to unlock the door and check the switch three or four times in a row before walking away. Sometimes I’d be fully dressed and ready to leave the house but felt that I couldn’t until I checked the switch one more time.
I decided I could lick the uncertainty once and for all. I had been working as a schoolteacher and I knew that when I taught my students a new song they seemed to remember it better if I incorporated physical movements into the lesson. I decided to add small motions to my rituals to help me differentiate my actions from one day to the next. Now, not only would I say to myself “It’s Tuesday and I’m turning off the light,” I’d tap my head and say: “It’s Tuesday and I’m turning off the light and tapping my head.” The next day I might say: “It’s Wednesday and I’m turning around and turning off the light.” But not even that elaborate series of reminders cured me of my doubt. Eventually the ritual actions had to be doubled or combined in different ways to be distinct from the actions of a previous day until eventually I just couldn’t do it anymore. After a while I just left the door open and refused to turn the light on at all.
My husband laughs at this story. He can picture me doing the hokey-pokey and talking to myself. Many times, he’s had to drive back home to reassure me that I turned off the tea kettle. He’s had to hold my dry, wrinkled hands that look like they belong on a 90 year-old woman instead of a 52 year-old one, courtesy of my compulsive hand washing. I guess it’s a little funny but it’s also a drag.
Lately, I find myself stopping at the corner on my way to work. I look out my car window and check that the garage door is closed. Two or three times a week I drive to the corner, check the garage door from my window, then drive around the block and return to check the garage door before rushing off to work. Sometimes I drive around the block more than once and make myself late to work. Maybe I should just have the door removed!
7 comments:
i'm that way with my front dooor when leaving for work. I lock it and walk away and walk back and jiggle the handle to make sure everythiung is safe for the 9 hours away
CP
This'll probably go down like the hindenburg, but have you ever tried Luvox? I know, I know everybody's opposed to popping pills for problems, however I've seen it work for a person I know who has OCD. However, yes, I know the results are always mixed. For example, I cannot take any SSRIs because of gastric and blood pressure problems. On the other hand, my wife takes an SSRI, and apart from a little drowsiness, and a diminished sex drive (although that could be my fault....) she's fine, and doing great things. My point isn't to be insulting, or anything, it's just- let's put it this way- I developed gallbladder troubles about the same time as a friend of mine did. He opposed the notion of surgery, which is legit, and I won't begrudge him, but I had the surgery, and less than a month later, it was as if I never had gallbladder problems. Meanwhile, my friend is suffering more and more attacks. After awhile, I think to myself that maybe his fears are getting the better of him. I respect him, and his opinions, but when it doesn't seem to be working, I don't feel like it's so bad if I say, in a friendly way- have you reconsidered your opinion? So, are your routines working for you? Do you feel in control? If so- seriously, more power to you- but if ever it doesn't, have you considered an SSRI?
For what it's worth, I took a biology class from an instructor with a neurology Phd who one day took about 20 minutes or so out of class to launch into an anti-antidepressants rant. Here points were as follows: 1) They cause irreversible changes in your brain chemistry 2) They can have extremely nasty side effects (we've all heard the suicide stories, but she happens to know someone who started having seizures as a result of using them, and, again, this was a permanent effect) 3) Therefore, they really should only be considered for people with severe clinical depression.
Also, I happen to have a psychology textbook handy, and under Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder it says, "studies comparing cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) with drug therapy using SSRI-type antidepressants find that CBT produces at least as much benefit and may lead to more lasting results.
Not that I think it was very likely that Alice, of all people, was going to resort to such a solution to something she doesn't seem to take that seriously anyway...
Yes, I have considered medication. I just have so many other things wrong with me that I manage to ignore, I'm hoping the insanity will morph into a form I can work with.
I should add that, having now read a little more about the topic, I understand that the current consensus seems to be that the suicides were probably not caused by the drugs, but were just depressed people who found the drug ineffective. Studies have found it to help for only 41% of users, compared to 31% for placebo, but they do lead to an overall decrease in suicide rates.
I do the same thing when I leave the house. Worse when I was in the apt.
I think we all have a bit of it in us.
I can sooo relate. I can be so distracted from the moment I am in. No wonder we forget what we just did. For the record, I have to drive back around the block about once a week to be SURE I locked the garage door. The days I don't are the ones where I stare at the closed door and say out loud, Yep I closed the garage door!
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