Accepting Me

Staring off into space, replaying a conversation that I may someday have to have in the future. Playing both sides in my head in an effort to prepare myself for the worst. It's what I do.

Little things can drive me crazy....like considering how different things would be if I would have ran that stop light, or making sure that I have my ID on me, even if I have checked 4 times already. Eventually these stupid concerns become habit, like touching my ID before walking out the door, or or refusing to say "good-bye" to loved ones when hanging up the phone (I always end with I love you because I think it's a much better sentiment to end on). I try to keep most of this insanity to myself. It's incredibly embarrassing to be caught doing something that logically I understand is stupid, but that doesn't make it any easier to not do it. It's called OCD and it's my life.

There are days that are super easy and it's barely noticeable....days that I don't care if my food happens to touch each other on it's plate and don't wonder if I could pay the bills if my husband were to leave me (mind you we have been together for 10 years so this is a pretty irrational thought). However, there are other days....days that a little thought or idea can drive me insane for hours on end. Days where I replay past conversations to see if I could have made them turn out better, and replay ones that I see myself having in the future to prepare for the worst. Days where I get freaked out when someone else uses my hand sanitizer or tries to hug me. I suffer in my silence because I really do know what that it sounds crazy. I don't want people to think I'm crazy. I have rituals for things...lots of things...that most people don't even notice...even those that are closest to me. I am not a clean freak, and germs don't normally give me the willies, so don't get the wrong idea, but that doesn't mean that I don't suffer in a very different way. I have tried really hard to get past my issues, and some of them I have been able to conquer.

In the past I would never call anyone, and definitely wouldn't call a stranger to do something like, say, order a pizza. Last night I didn't think twice before calling to order food from our local restaurant. I'm not defeated, and I'm not giving up, but more taking the steps to acknowledge that I am different, and I'm ok with that. I think it makes me who I am, but I won't ever let it define me.

Bad Music

I've been told that I have really weird taste in music. To start off, let it be known that "Done Wrong" by Vermillion Lies is currently playing on my last.fm and I'm rocking out in my cubical at work. I love music of many different flavors. If you can spur emotion in me, or make me feel like I should be dancing, or spark a memory, or just do something I tend to fall head over heals in love with your sound. Lyrics are a totally different subject. There have been many songs that I have hated when I initially heard them, but after forcing myself to actually listen to the lyrics I feel myself melting on the inside and letting those words become a part of my soul. Weezer is one of those bands. I really didn't like their sound and the whining of the lead singer just about drove me up the wall, until one day I sat down and listened to the randomness of their lyrics and knew I had been wrong. There are, however, other songs that the lyrics are absolutely horrifyingly terrible, but I love them anyway, because they make me want to move, or dance, or make love, or anything. For example.....there is a song called "Chicken with it's head cut off." Lyrically this has to be absolutely the worst song in existence....but I love it. The sound, the way it makes me feel. I love it. Music just makes me happy....need I say more?