I obsess worse than anything you’ve ever seen. When I get going, I make even 1 Direction fan fiction writers look tame, or those people who know their Hogwarts house, wand and wizarding blood-type by heart (Hufflepuff, 10 inch holly wood and phoenix feather, expect-O-patronus HAHAHA).
This, as with most things my brain does, has its good and bad sides. The bad side is that I can’t choose what I obsess over, and most of the time my brain will choose to fixate on the most random, inconsequential intrusive thought that comes its way. It makes trying to get to appointments a little bit hell.
To illustrate this, I have created a thought log of things I that cross my mind as I try to leave the house in the morning:
Ready to go, I will be on time. Putting my keys and wallet in my bag.
Door is open.
But do I have my keys?
Of course I do, I just put them in my bag, I remember.
… But do I really remember?
I go back inside, take everything out of my bag, put everything back in paying special attention to the keys.
At the door.
Did I put my wallet in my bag?
Back inside, take everything out of my bag, put everything back in.
At the door.
Is my card in my wallet?
Yes, why wouldn’t it be? Why would I have taken it out?
…But I’ll be screwed if I randomly don’t have it…
BACK INSIDE, take out wallet, check that card is in there. It is –
BUT is that my card or something that looks exactly like it?
Take out my card and stare at it for a good few seconds to ensure it is indeed my bank card before putting it back and running to the door.
Is the tap dripping?
Run to the tap – I am now late – it is not dripping but I screw the tap tighter just in case.
Is it too tight now? Will the washer break? Will this make it drip MORE?
Unscrew the tap slightly and wait ten seconds to check for drips.
At the door again –
Are all the plugs off?
YES. I didn’t charge my phone or use my laptop, nothing else could possibly be plugged in. There is no conceivable reason for the wall socket to still be on.
Yes, but if it is on it could start a fire.
Run back inside and stare at the plug socket so I can convince myself it is off but this isn’t convincing enough for me so I have to switch it on and off again so I can be sure and I’m out of the room and I’ve locked the door and I am about to go downstairs…
Are the straighteners on?
I HAVEN’T STRAIGHTENED MY HAIR IN TWO WEEKS THEY CANNOT POSSIBLY BE ON.
But… What if?
I run inside, scrabble through my draw, now in tears as I locate my unplugged, cold straighteners and run back outside, slamming the door shut.
The worst part is, I lie about being late because my real excuse always seems terrible. One day I will be honest; one day I will be bold enough to look someone in the eye and say:
“I was late because my tap may have dripped but I can’t be sure”.