The Door is Shut and Locked
I have a slight case of hypochondria. It doesn't really get the better of me as much as it once did. For example, I had heartburn once in, I think, the ninth grade. I convinced myself that I was having a heart attack. Then after hearing that Tom Green had testicular cancer, I decided that I had it. So far, I have had three or four heart attacks, two strokes, testicular cancer maybe three times, breast cancer twice, two collapsed lungs on four different occassions, lung cancer once, countless brain tumors, carposis sarcoma every two to three months for the past couple of years, rheumatoid arthritis, diabetes, and the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. In most cases, there was absolutely no reason whatsoever to believe I had anything wrong with me. I felt a lump in my scrotum which freaked me out. I figured out that it was just my testicle but decided that it was probably cancerous anyway. I really freaked when I felt a knot in my groin area. As I had located both my testicles, I knew that it was not one of them. After going to my doctor and showing him the small knot, I felt a little better. It was just an ingrown hair caused by shaving with a slightly dulled razor. Now I am extra careful to use a new, sharp razor every time Fraulein Brunhilda needs a trim. I am sure you all wanted to know that and are thrilled to hear it. Basically, what I am trying to say is I am slowly losing my mind and am easily influenced.
NN wrote in her journal that she is OCD about several things. One thing she mentioned was having to completely put out a cigarette. Thank you NN!! Now, I can't smoke without making sure that it is totally extinguished. I also have to ash my cigarette constantly. It is more of a nervous habit really. I am constantly flicking my cigarette. Three, four, sometimes five times between drags. I don't really know why I do it. Then, when I ash it, I think to myself, "The door is shut and locked." Is there some hidden meaning in these words? Not really. I started saying, "The door is shut and locked," alot when I was younger and still living with my mom. Everytime I had a friend over, I'd ask if he had shut and locked the door. I did not have to have the door shut and locked, but when you are that age, you feel like you are doing very big, very important things. You need your privacy. So, I was always asking about the door and whether it were locked.
Starting out as something cute and innocent, the phrase, "The door is shut and locked," did not become my largest obsessive compulsive tendency until I was around age thirteen. I must guess what age I was as I am not exactly sure when I started masturbating. When I first fell in love with making love alone, I was so scared of having someone catch me that I was constantly checking the door. I could clearly see that the door was shut from anywhere in the room. My room was small, so I could also see that it was locked from anywhere in the room. I still, without fail, would look at the door everytime that I would masturbate and say either internally or aloud, "The door is shut and locked." I won't lie, my hands were total sex addict whores. They wanted it all the time. Twenty times in a day was nothing for them. Chafing. It was no wonder that I became obsessed with that phrase. I was saying it all the time to myself for reassurance or whenever I did anything at all. Need to change clothes, "The door is shut and locked." About to watch cartoons, "The door is shut and locked." Worried about a test, "The door is shut and locked." Turn off the lights before bed, "The door is shut and locked." Make sure my harnass is secured to the ceiling, "The door is shut and locked." Look at that over there, "The door is shut and locked." Do I have spinach in my teeth, "The door is shut and locked." I realize it is an insane thing to do, but it is just habit for me. I still, to this day, cannot help but say it when checking on something, accomplishing something, or reassuring myself of something. Maybe masturbation really does lead to insanity. Isn't that what the proverbial "they" always says. Or was that blindness? Or hairy eyelids? Who knows.
I also obsessively lock the door now. I used to lock the door at least five times before I could walk away from it. This got worse a couple of years ago after a traumatic experience which I will not elaborate upon at this time. More recently, I have been able to control the urge to lock and unlock the door repeatedly. I usually only do it once or twice these days, but I either glance over or walk over to the door several times throughout the day to make sure the door is still locked. This is worse when I am at someone else's apartment. I am more paranoid at my mother's home. There are six doors leading outside at her house. I have to triple check each door, check behind all the shower curtains, look in all the closets, and check in the cabinets under every sink before I am able to go to bed. I do not think I am even scared of anything there. I really do not even know what it is that I think I may find. Nevertheless, I will check everything twice and each door thrice. I swear I am going crazy.
My other little OCD behavior thingy bah dah jingy deals with paper. I am almost always rolling up little pieces of paper into mini paper sticks then balling them up. Afterwards I just throw them away. I have no idea when I started doing this, but I know that I cannot remember a time that this nervous tick was not a part of my life. I always ball up little pieces of paper. Stupid, I know. Pointless, a bit. I am even picky about what kind of paper I will ball up. I prefer sticker labels and tissue to notebook paper and those cheap brown treebark public restroom papertowels. My favorite is the paper from straws. Oh muh lard! Give me straw paper and I am in heaven. Well, I do not actually go to heaven when given straw paper, but if there is a heaven, I am sure straw paper is a huge part of it. I could ball up some straw paper all day long. I am excited just thinking about it. (I just stopped typing for about five minutes and thought about straw paper. It just really really seems to make me happy. Kind of scares me.) Margaret Thatcher ninnies, I am insane.
Later Consuela.
I have a slight case of hypochondria. It doesn't really get the better of me as much as it once did. For example, I had heartburn once in, I think, the ninth grade. I convinced myself that I was having a heart attack. Then after hearing that Tom Green had testicular cancer, I decided that I had it. So far, I have had three or four heart attacks, two strokes, testicular cancer maybe three times, breast cancer twice, two collapsed lungs on four different occassions, lung cancer once, countless brain tumors, carposis sarcoma every two to three months for the past couple of years, rheumatoid arthritis, diabetes, and the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. In most cases, there was absolutely no reason whatsoever to believe I had anything wrong with me. I felt a lump in my scrotum which freaked me out. I figured out that it was just my testicle but decided that it was probably cancerous anyway. I really freaked when I felt a knot in my groin area. As I had located both my testicles, I knew that it was not one of them. After going to my doctor and showing him the small knot, I felt a little better. It was just an ingrown hair caused by shaving with a slightly dulled razor. Now I am extra careful to use a new, sharp razor every time Fraulein Brunhilda needs a trim. I am sure you all wanted to know that and are thrilled to hear it. Basically, what I am trying to say is I am slowly losing my mind and am easily influenced.
NN wrote in her journal that she is OCD about several things. One thing she mentioned was having to completely put out a cigarette. Thank you NN!! Now, I can't smoke without making sure that it is totally extinguished. I also have to ash my cigarette constantly. It is more of a nervous habit really. I am constantly flicking my cigarette. Three, four, sometimes five times between drags. I don't really know why I do it. Then, when I ash it, I think to myself, "The door is shut and locked." Is there some hidden meaning in these words? Not really. I started saying, "The door is shut and locked," alot when I was younger and still living with my mom. Everytime I had a friend over, I'd ask if he had shut and locked the door. I did not have to have the door shut and locked, but when you are that age, you feel like you are doing very big, very important things. You need your privacy. So, I was always asking about the door and whether it were locked.
Starting out as something cute and innocent, the phrase, "The door is shut and locked," did not become my largest obsessive compulsive tendency until I was around age thirteen. I must guess what age I was as I am not exactly sure when I started masturbating. When I first fell in love with making love alone, I was so scared of having someone catch me that I was constantly checking the door. I could clearly see that the door was shut from anywhere in the room. My room was small, so I could also see that it was locked from anywhere in the room. I still, without fail, would look at the door everytime that I would masturbate and say either internally or aloud, "The door is shut and locked." I won't lie, my hands were total sex addict whores. They wanted it all the time. Twenty times in a day was nothing for them. Chafing. It was no wonder that I became obsessed with that phrase. I was saying it all the time to myself for reassurance or whenever I did anything at all. Need to change clothes, "The door is shut and locked." About to watch cartoons, "The door is shut and locked." Worried about a test, "The door is shut and locked." Turn off the lights before bed, "The door is shut and locked." Make sure my harnass is secured to the ceiling, "The door is shut and locked." Look at that over there, "The door is shut and locked." Do I have spinach in my teeth, "The door is shut and locked." I realize it is an insane thing to do, but it is just habit for me. I still, to this day, cannot help but say it when checking on something, accomplishing something, or reassuring myself of something. Maybe masturbation really does lead to insanity. Isn't that what the proverbial "they" always says. Or was that blindness? Or hairy eyelids? Who knows.
I also obsessively lock the door now. I used to lock the door at least five times before I could walk away from it. This got worse a couple of years ago after a traumatic experience which I will not elaborate upon at this time. More recently, I have been able to control the urge to lock and unlock the door repeatedly. I usually only do it once or twice these days, but I either glance over or walk over to the door several times throughout the day to make sure the door is still locked. This is worse when I am at someone else's apartment. I am more paranoid at my mother's home. There are six doors leading outside at her house. I have to triple check each door, check behind all the shower curtains, look in all the closets, and check in the cabinets under every sink before I am able to go to bed. I do not think I am even scared of anything there. I really do not even know what it is that I think I may find. Nevertheless, I will check everything twice and each door thrice. I swear I am going crazy.
My other little OCD behavior thingy bah dah jingy deals with paper. I am almost always rolling up little pieces of paper into mini paper sticks then balling them up. Afterwards I just throw them away. I have no idea when I started doing this, but I know that I cannot remember a time that this nervous tick was not a part of my life. I always ball up little pieces of paper. Stupid, I know. Pointless, a bit. I am even picky about what kind of paper I will ball up. I prefer sticker labels and tissue to notebook paper and those cheap brown treebark public restroom papertowels. My favorite is the paper from straws. Oh muh lard! Give me straw paper and I am in heaven. Well, I do not actually go to heaven when given straw paper, but if there is a heaven, I am sure straw paper is a huge part of it. I could ball up some straw paper all day long. I am excited just thinking about it. (I just stopped typing for about five minutes and thought about straw paper. It just really really seems to make me happy. Kind of scares me.) Margaret Thatcher ninnies, I am insane.
Later Consuela.
posted by Preston at 1:04 AM
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