Most people know I’ve been struggling with menopause for ten years now….yes ten friggin years. Here’s what that looks like for me: 1) I rarely if ever sleep through the night; 2) Sweat pours down my body on a regular basis, with alternate complaints of “I’m freezing”; and 3) I crave and must have sweets. Okay maybe I made the last one up because I want to give a clinical reason for my addiction to sugar.
Fortunately, what has not occurred with menopause is irritability. At least I don’t think it has. I suppose you might have to ask my wife about that.
What does this have to do with OCD, or for those of you not familiar with that term, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? Waking up eight times a night has beautifully fed my OCD.
Here’s what it looks like…
I crack open my eyes and turn over to look at my iPad a minimum of eight times a night. Sometimes I check my e-mail, sometimes I read Facebook messages and respond, and I always check the rank for my latest book.
My wife wakes up and says, “What are you doing?”
I don’t usually fess up, even though she knows, so I mumble, “Nothing, checking the time.”
Wise to my disorder, my wife says, “Stop obsessing over the Amazon rank and go to sleep.”
Since I only get to see my wife on the weekends, my disorder is tempered. On the weekdays, it is allowed to run free and naked through the forest. The other thing I check is the reviews and I read every single one. I can’t help myself. Fortunately people have been very kind on Amazon.
When I was younger I used to obsess over different things, namely the cleanliness of the carpets. At parties that we hosted at our house, it was not uncommon for me to follow people around with my little green carpet machine. On occasion, I would bring out the industrial strength steam cleaner right in the middle of the Partridge Family singing, I think I Love You.
The whole Rugby Team loved doing a parody to that song changing the words to:
I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream
Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain
Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head
And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread
I think I f&*$ed you (I think I f&*$ed you)
The Rugby team and our antics is a whole new blog topic to explore at a later date.
My wife said to me the other day, “Why aren’t you concerned anymore over the cleanliness of the condo or our house. That was an obsession I appreciated.”
I laughed and told her, “I’m on to bigger and better obsessions now.”
I’ve often blogged about how wonderful my wife is because she truly does take care of me. She is usually the one who ends up cleaning my little pigsty when she comes to our Moses Lake condo. I joke about wanting her to retire early because I need a housewife. She is not amused by that.
I just submitted a manuscript to my publisher about a person who snoops and is right on the borderline of a true person with Obsessive Compulsive disorder. I based it a bit on myself and my mother (who was OCD to the extreme) with a fair amount of embellishment. I hope it gets published because it will let you glimpse just a little of what that might be like for someone who has those tendencies.
Here’s a little teaser for you.
Juliet pushed the door open to a grinning Tanner. She was careful not to touch the door handle and used her shirt again. “Did the housekeeper take a vacation or something? It’s disgusting in there.”
“For someone who was tied to a chair with a gun against her forehead, you sure have a smart mouth. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you don’t have to express every little thought that pops into your head,” Tanner warned.
“Trust me. I’ve kept a whole slew of thoughts to myself. This is the restrained version,” Juliet quipped.
“Hmmm. Good to know. I recommend you working on your tact just a smidge more.” Tanner held out her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate.
“Fine, but if you expect to keep me alive, I need cleaning supplies to rid this cabin of whatever harmful germs have been allowed to flourish without intervention.”
“I didn’t exactly have time to make it presentable for company and just for the record, I don’t normally live this way. This was a last minute decision. Come on let’s eat.”
Juliet looked at the old oak table and sighed. Although it didn’t have any obvious remnants of moldy food or other repulsive items, she was distrustful.
“Stop eyeing the table like it’s your enemy. The food is in a bag, wrapped tightly. Germs aren’t skilled enough to burrow inside two layers of protection. God, I’ve kidnapped a germophobe,” Tanner complained.
“I’ll just take the sandwich right from the bag. No need to get out any plates or put it on the table.” Juliet scrunched up her face.
Tanner rolled her eyes and pulled out the bulging sandwich wrapped in white paper.
Previous blogs have all the links to all my books, but if you are interested here is a link to my Amazon Author’s page and the Affinity Author’s Page. Thanks for your support!