eight

Is it too heavy in the medical condition part? I was trying to focus more on the reflection rather than telling only about a medical condition and how I overcame that. I wanted it to be about how my views towards it changed and the results of this. Does my purpose seem to shift at all as the essay progresses? The feelers are what I would refer to my fingers as. I am not sure if people will realize that.

The descriptions you have used seem to only be skating the surface. The visuals you use would be more effective if the tension was built more and if the reader is given a better look into your internal struggle. The different sections bleed together and it is unclear what the major landmarks of the essay are. Build the climax so that we can understand the resolution more. You only used the feelers term once and this could be an interesting theme throughout the essay.

Eight Times

My feelers become active, just as I feared. I quickly brush my fingers across the leather seats eight times and then the chrome door handle eight times. . Throughout the car ride to the beach for New Year’s, my mind becomes occupied again, and I hope no one in the car noticed. I begin rolling down the car window to get some fresh air. As the top edge of the window reaches bottom, I quickly jerk the button back towards me. Always taking care to end my window rolling routine on an upward motion. It’s always down up or simply up, ensuring the positive motion was the last action to be completed. The extent that my obsessive-compulsive disorder affected me reflected the way I viewed it. Things had been this way for as long as I could remember; yet, I never put much thought into changing it. Most of the habits were mental and never manifested themselves in a physical way. Generally, I deal with it; however, I begin to question the validity of my own mental arguments.

The cabin of the car remains silent, as we speed closer to our destination. My friends and family think about arriving at the beach and the coming days, but my mind harasses itself. Without adequate stimulation, I become much more aware of the numerous triggers that fuel the obsessive habits. I glance over at my friend and the word “cancer” flashes in my head. I utilize the following minutes thinking of less detrimental alternative medical conditions. I string words like pneumonia, influenza, strep throat, and common cold together. All of which get progressively better, but this sense of anxiety is always present in my head. If I don’t satisfy my mind with an optimistic mental response, it feels like a dreadful consequence is imminent. Positive and negative connotations rule my mind, always combating the negative word with the positive one. Ironically, the words positive and negative generate the most distress. Negative is generally bad for most things; however, the word positive I would associate with a medical test, which most of the time would be a bad thing. During this car ride, I begin to grow tired of getting into these mind ruts.

Being in a car did not pose a threat to my precious sleep, but the frequent obsessions did. A complex ritual, growing longer each year, must occur prior to sleeping, or else it could not be guaranteed that I will wake up. First I look in the right lower corner, then my eyes jump to the right upper corner, and I conclude with a final glance to the left upper corner. I then whisper, “okay”, eight times separated into pairs, “okay okay, okay okay, okay okay, okay okay.” Directly proceeded by running my middle fingers down the length of my nose eight times, creating the signature snorting sound. I have reasoning backing each of the specifics found within the procedure. The middle finger, because if I get in a car accident this would be the part of my body I would want to loose, and if I had to loose a sense I would want it to be my sense of smell. This tedious and time-consuming routine began to annoy me significantly more at this point.

I pressed my head against the wall in a struggle to fall asleep. Questions flushed into my head, such as “why do I have to do this?” or “would this ominous bad thing actually happen if I failed to satisfy the mental challenges?” A sense of skepticism cultivates within me regarding all of the obsessions I wasted my time with in the past. The fact that none of it made logical sense to me bothered me the most, identifying the flaws with my habits only antagonized me more. The obsessions seemed increasingly unnecessary and annoyed me. They always occupied my mind and there was little rest and no way out, but now these behaviors were under attack. For the first time, I knew that I desired change. The only explanation for not thinking about this earlier was that I have matured over the past years. I was beginning to grow out of it and could finally realize an escape. I had a strong desire to act on this tonight, before letting it go any longer.

The sunlight vanished hours prior, and it was time to enter the dreaded bedroom, which always held the greatest potential to cause habits to flare up. I skip the okays, and I skip the gliding of my middle fingers over my nose. I worked myself up about breaking those two habits that glancing in the corners never crossed my mind. I stare at the ceiling, motionless, as I lay there with a blank mind, seemingly frozen in time. An ominous cloud begins to loom over the bed, preparing to bear down on me. Panic sets in, and my stillness breaks. Fliping from one side of the bed to the other in a flailing motion, I become entangled in the sheets. “Should I get up and walk around or should I give into the pressure?” I didn’t do either, but I struggle to regain my composure. Reverting my eyes to the blank ceiling, I continue to lie in bed. Soon my vision blurs, as I drift in and out of consciousness. Tonight I fell asleep in fear, not knowing the consequences of my actions.

The sunlight streaming into my room woke me, like any other morning. I was perfectly fine, and everything around me was too. At this point, I realize that nothing had changed, but my mind was much clearer. Occasionally throughout the day, something initiates a habit, but I easily suppress them knowing there were no true or logical consequences. The triggers diminish, which resulted in the remaining habits crumbling, followed by the constant state of anxiety. I never truly understood the degree of my problem until it subsided. I finally felt like I could get my head around the whole concept. New Year’s had come and gone, and I was fortunate that the obsessive compulsiveness was solely a phase and ended in the span of two days. After the long car ride, I finally arrive home. It was the year 2005, and I had grown out of my obsessive-compulsive habits. Now my only fear is a reoccurrence of the symptoms.