Is this real life?

One of the hardest things about having OCD is my inability to tell when I'm being a total obsessive compulsive spaz or when I'm having "normal people" worries.

Am I have a reaction that most people would have? 

Is this really what I want or is it what I want because I'm obsessing over some random ass thing in this moment? 

Am I overthinking my thoughts? Am I overthinking my overthinking?

Not being able to trust your own judgment is hard. Obsessing over your own judgment is even harder. It's exhausting in fact. I spend more time wondering if I'm nuts or if I'm normal than I do pretty much anything else.

Sometimes it's little things...like "did I accidentally say something that someone could interpret as rude in that interaction?" or

Most of the time it's about repetitive things or my serial obsessions...like does everyone think about murderers as much as me? Or does everyone do the same shower routine every single day or do they just go all wily nily with their bathing steps?

The worst things are big things. Like cutting my hair in a drastic way. Yesterday I got my hair cut. That seems like such a simple statement. Yesterday I went from chin length hair to super short hair. That seems a little more dramatic. But when I think about the amount of time I spent thinking about cutting my hair...lord. That's a lot of thinking.

Where does it start? Do I start with the time I was about 12 and I saw a runway model on some tv show that had a shaved head and a fantastic Chinese dragon tattoo on her head and I secretly wished I would get cancer (and sometimes I find my mind lingering there sometimes now) so I could shave my head without being weird and then be a bad ass like that model? Should I start when I DID cut my hair off in high school and at the time thought it was so cute and when I look back now I realize what a tragic chili bowl it was? Do I start when I saw GI Jane and realized that I didn't really just like Demi Moore because she was a great actress (because, let's be serious, she's really just ok) and it wasn't so much that I wanted to look like her as I probably wanted to have sex with her? Or do I start with "I really really really hate the feeling of sweat on my head -- not so much other parts of my body. Body sweat is tolerable. But head sweat makes me want to rip off my head? So if I have short hair my head will sweat less? And summer is coming and Chico is hella hot and I sweat a lot." Or should I talk about how much I hate getting dressed every day and doing my hair? It takes so damn much time. Time I could be reading or blogging or anything other than spending it on superficial stuff like fixing my hair or picking out something other than sweatpants to wear. It shouldn't matter if I look like a wreck or socially unacceptable for work -- I'm great at what I do whether I'm stylish or look like a bag lady. Ugh. I hate social expectations. Or should I talk about how much I hate the media and patriarchy and I hate performing my gender in stereotypical ways (femme) even though that's really who I am and I want to cut my hair because fuck blow drying and flat ironing and fuck long hair and fuck stylish hair and maybe I'll just shave it all off and give a middle finger to the world because my value is on the inside instead of my external appearance? But oh god. What if I look hideous? What if I look like a fat headed militant dyke...which is an ok thing in the conceptual world, but not ok for me in my real life I stare in the mirror everyday look...and oh my god I not only sound like a judgy asshole but that's totally me playing into patriarchy and media and gender stereotypes...and god I am so tired of thinking. Let me ask all of my closest people what they think. Nice. Ok. Good. Yes! I'm pumped! Oh, that was underwhelming. Oh, huh, that's not so great. If one more person says "it's just hair" I'm going to throat punch them. It's MY hair. If my hair is tragic I'll be obsessed with it's ugliness for the next 2 years while I grow it back out. Maybe this isn't what I really want. Maybe I'm giving into some compulsion and it's not really what I want. I'll sit on it and not make a hair appointment because I'm now paralyzed with doubt and conflicting feelings. Oh my god, I've dreamt about cutting my hair for the last three days in a row. I have been obsessed with cutting my hair for the past month. The past decade actually, but really I've spent hours each days thinking about my hair. This is ridiculous. No one obsesses about their hair this much. You're bonkers. Fuck it. I'm making a hair appointment.

And until my stylist turned me around in the chair and I caught a glimpse of how I now looked I still wasn't sure. Actually, I'm still not sure what my motivation was for cutting my hair. But now that I don't look like an ugly troll I'm at least happy I did it. Whew. Good choice. Nothing bad happened. Now I can move on to a new obsession.

Thoughts While Traveling: Chicago to Sacramento

8:20 am (We've moved to Central time; try and keep up)


Turn on phone. Ange has been texting me. PNC is stalking my charges. Apparently food in Bloomington for 2 days followed by going to the airport in Indy equals possible fraudulent charges. Quit spazzing people.


8:30 am


Listen to the longest automated system in the history of the world to verify I am indeed in control of my bank card and have authorized all of the under $25 charges made in the past 3 days.


8:35 am


Ange tells me that she tried to call PNC for me. They said she is not allowed to know charges I have made with my bank card. Nevermind they called her number to verify the charges. Nevermind we have a joint account. Nevermind she could login to our joint account online and look at my charges. Only I can verify my very top secret charges at Starbucks and United. Lame.


8:48 am


After wandering around a bit listening to very loud Chicagoans talk at very loud levels I choose a seat to sit down and wait for gate agents so I can get my boarding pass. I chose the wrong seat. This lady next to me is going on and on about her very tragic divorce from her no good cheating husband. After I hear the phrases "Republican women's luncheon," "going hunting," "hitting up the Opera for a bluegrass show," and "the only bad part is it's a Baptist church" I decide I can no longer sit next to Sarah Palin's sister and I get up to nonchalantly look for a power plug so I can get some extra iPhone juice. Chicago is apparently Amish because I can find none. Ugh. Go get my boarding pass and find a new seat away from Wannabe Palin.


9:27 am


We finally start boarding. I'm standing in line behind a little man that is a dead ringer for Chairman Mao. This makes me think of the time we were playing Wii Jeopardy and my mom said "Chairman Mao" and Ange said "Who the heck is Churman Mal???" I giggle hysterically to myself. As we near the jetway, Churman leans over the railing and hocks the biggest loogie I've ever heard in my life and spits it in the trashcan 2 feet away. Giggling stops and gagging commences. Sick ass.


9:34 am


I am on the plane and I look over and see a man pretending like his boarding pass is some sort of fake mustache. Then I realize he's using the boarding pass as some kind of silencer because he's talking on his cell phone and apparently doesn't want to disturb anyone and/or let us hear about his affair/Republican luncheon/bluegrass opera/hunting trip. Well carry on then I suppose weird mustache man.


9:57 am


After sitting at gate for eleventy million years we finally push off. I have decided I like United. Much nicer than Delta (my current preferred airline). They have more amenities. Including more comfortable seat belts. Delta appears to only make seat belts for those people with a BMI of 25 or less (e.g. Not me). I am no small lady but I am not a whale. Be reasonable with your belt length for the love. I have plenty of excess belt on United. My gut thanks you.


10:11 am


They are showing Unstoppable on the (communal) movie screens. Good movie. Glad I've seen it so I don't feel tempted to watch it and then get annoyed when I inevitably fall asleep and miss major important parts.


10:27 am


I notice the dude in front of me has the grossest hair ever. Like not washed in 4 months gross. And he's rubbing it all over his headrest. Now I will attempt to never lean my head against my headrest on a plane ever again. So grossed out.


10:32 am


I wish the Captain would turn off the seatbelt sign. I have to pee like whoa even though I'm terrified of using airline bathrooms because I'm afraid my butt will get suction cupped to the seat in some bizarre airplane malfunction. Yes I know this is completely irrational (I specialize in irrational fears, see: sharks in pools), but I'm terrified nonetheless. Especially after hearing a flight attendant acquaintance talk about the toilet paper races she's had with other attendants where they each stick a roll of toilet paper in the toilets and stretch the other end to the middle of the plane and see who's toilet sucks it up fastest. That could be my butt people.


10:37 am


Ugh. Stupid lady on the aisle. She just unpacked a buffet on her tray table. I don't want to be the asshole that asks her to pack it all up so I can pee 20 minutes into the flight. Starbucks this is all your fault.

10:42 am


Stupid lady still hasn't eaten from her buffet. It's just sitting there blocking my way to the suction butt bathroom. Now they are doing drink service. I'm never going to get to go pee. Should have asked for a pair of Depends from the poop Giant on the last flight.


10:53 am


Lost the headrest game. Guess I'll just have greaseball cooties on my head. The guy next to me is snoring. Billy Chuck Fawcett was snoring loudly on the last flight. How do people not know they are snorers? Do they not care that their snoring is annoying others? Annoying.


11:08 am


God. Stupid lady is the slowest eater on the planet. I've never seen someone take as small of bites as she does. She might be done by the time we get to Sacramento. On a sidenote, she also appears to have an iPad. She has officially become my arch nemesis.


11:19 am


Apparently Ms. Buffet (no relation to Jimmy Buffet) is a Wastey McWasterson. She ate about half of her sandwich and a fourth of her salad. Normally I would frown heavily upon this, but I have too much pee in me to be judgmental at the moment. I wait for her to pack up her garbage and then crack a joke about too much Starbucks and needing to get up. Neither Wastey McWasterson nor Snorey McSnorerson crack a smile. Whatever. I have not yet given YOU rude looks for your annoying behaviors so too bad so sad for you that I have to pee.


11:20 am


Ahhhhhh, relief.


11:25 am


Settled back in for the duration. Flight attendant is walking down the aisle collecting "rubbish." Someone (probably another idiot) asks her a question I don't hear. She says rubbish sounds so much more lovely than trash. I love her immediately. Ok, time for a nap.


12:57 pm


God, I'm like a toddler. If there were sleeping Olympics, I'd be a gold medalist. I hate airplane air. I'm so dryyyyy. My contacts are suction cupped to my eyes. My nose holes are dry. My mouth is dry. Yay, here comes the flight attendant with some juice!


1:03 pm


Bwhaha. Suction cup lenses have cleared up. Lady across the aisle is asleep and looks like a frog waiting for some flies to land in her mouth. Dying.





1:17 pm


Ugh. Annoying man 3 rows behind me WON'T. SHUT. UP! He's talking (stupidly) about politics & religion. He's annoying. I shouldn't hear you this loud in my seat. Where's my iPod?


1:23 pm


Curse you aqua scum! My iPod is dead. I thought it was charged. Apparently I was gravely wrong. I'll have to use my iPhone. Hope it doesn't die before I get to Chico.


2:15 pm


Thank god we're landing. I'm over this flight.


2:38 pm


Damn you Aunt Flo! I just landed and NOW you come to visit? Bitch.


2:47 pm


Sunshine! Yay!