The Compulsive Disorder Remains

Impulsive Obsession

I have been tortured since the day I was born, no, maybe it was later in my life. As a child I noticed the things I was doing. I knew why I was doing them
but I didn't know how to stop. Was I born with this disorder or did it come to me one day? Was it delievered to me in a box through the mail? Was it dropped off at my door step or wrapped nicely with a bow under the christmas tree?

An infection maybe? Like a cold or the flu? Maybe it happened on a cold afternoon while I was playing outside with my friends? Did the germs spread from one person to the next causing the disorder to spread all around me? Would you consider me sick? Is there a cure for this madness?

The poison creeps through my veins, it fills my lungs cutting off all oxygen from reaching my lungs. I am suffocating, drowing in my own self worth.
Like a vine it spreads its arms, reaching for everything it can, grabbing ahold inside of me. It grows and grows locking shackles around my ankles so I can't move. It won't let go. No matter how much I try, I will never be able to set myself free.

What is this thing that has set me apart from others around me? I don't quite understand it maybe there is just something wrong with me. Was I defected when god created me? No this was something my mind created. I can't tell you how it came to be or when because I simply just don't remember. I only remember when I began to notice the compulsive things I was feeling every second of every day. I'd awake with the torture already filling in my mind. It took away all my thoughts and filled my head with its commands.

I didn't ask for this. What I asked for was for my mom to come home. I asked for everyone I knew to be safe. I do everything it tells me too and still I am
forced to follow it's rules. If I don't then the things that I ask for will no longer be true. Something bad will happen I can feel it. It calls my name no
matter where I am and I must listen. I must do what it says.

It's there as I am brushing my teeth in the morning... counting, counting the times I brush each side of my mouth. The spits and swishes of the water in my mouth.

Counting...counting...

Did I rinse all the toothpaste off my toothbrush? Maybe I should just wash it off one more time. Oh crap, it's not standing up right. It must be standing up right, but not with any of the other toothbrushes. Not because of the germs or the thought of them touching but because it just has to be alone;standing up right.

Okay, do I look alright? I have to work today.
I flush the toilet to make sure there isn't anything in it. There must be clean, clear water. I put the lid down just to be safe.

Afterwards I turn the doorknob to the bathroom door to open it. I pull it open half way just enough so I can walk out. I yell for the kids because we have ten minutes before we have to leave. We have to be on time.

I make sure I have everything I need before following my youngest down the stairs. The steps I take must be counted. Sometimes outloud to help him learn to count too, but not my counting. I wouldn't want to spread this disorder to my children. Is it genetic? Do they have it too and just don't know it yet? I fear they might but if they do I can be here to comfort them.

Step ten..step eleven..twelve and finally step thirteen... I tap my toes on the corner of the bottom step. Check the clock on the mirowave and the stove. They stand next to each other in the kitchen and I can see both times on the clocks at the same time. They aren't the same time. One is two minutes
faster. Why? I don't know but I am forced to leave them that way.

With the red numbers shown on the display I take the first number 8 and count it as two. The double dots I count as four. Then the last two at the end saying 10 I count as six. Two, four, six.

I pack the lunches. Snacks on the left, cold food on the right, ice pack in the middle with drinks on the top then zip them shut. Oldest son's lunch is done, youngest, then mine. Everything is set the way it needs to be and we are ready to go.

I count more as I shut the door behind me. Pull it tight before turning the key to lock it. I push the door to make sure its locked. I do this enough to not cause my mind to panic all day.

Once the kids and I are in the car I drive down the road. Before pulling out of my drive way I turn the blinker on and squeezing my legs I turn. I must squeeze my legs. It's a sense of comfort I feel squeezing. I do this also at every stop sign.

Thoughts rush through my mind as we drive. Will a car pull out through an intersection and crash into us? What about passing a street with a stop sign? Or no stop sign? I worry about these things as I drive. Yet I remain calm on the outside. No one in the car senses a thing about my worries.

After I drop my oldest off I have to watch him go inside the school. Looking at him before he turns the corner I hold my eyes on him and blink them closed.
Love, live, one, two, three, four. One, two, three.

There a protection bubble is placed upon him. He will be safe the rest of the day until I pick him up from school. I turn the corner going around the building to the road I have to take. There's a door on the other side where his classroom is. I can't physically see him but I know he's there. I do it again.
I hold my eyes on the double doors, close them, then think:  Love, live, one, two, three, four. One, two, three.
Another protection is casted.

I go down the road and then make a left turn. From this road I can see the school building twice as I pass it. I say it once more during each passing to leave a protection on the school. Knowing he will be safe I continue driving forward.

I finally make it to my youngest sons daycare center. The last drop off before I have to go to work. I unlock the car before getting out. I hit the unlock twice. I walk to the back of the car to get my son out of the passenger side. Walk him inside his daycare center, say goodbye placing them same protection on him as I did the other. Knowing they will both be okay I head to work. Taking the same route I always do.