Relentless

So what was this wicked, savage mental illness, and when did it begin to possess and overtake me? Consume me? Begin to torture me, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week? I was twenty one years old, in college, and walking into the library. I sat down at a table, alone, to read a textbook. I began to read and the strangest thought overtook me. Hell, I thought I’d set a building’s bathroom on fire. What the shit? My thoughts moved along in such a strange way… I remember I threw away my paper towels after washing my hands and the swinging metal shutter opened and swung shut on the trash can. My twisted thinking had me believing that as two rocks can be smacked together to create a spark, so too, the metal on metal of the can and its lid had created a spark, igniting the paper towels. Asinine, an absolutely asinine thought. It was bizarre to say the least. I tried like crazy to get into my book and get my mind off of it, but I could not shake it. The thought terrified me and completely possessed me. I wanted to go check the bathroom, but would not give in. But that relentless thought had possession of my mind and I could not get it out of my head. It was all I could think about on that cold dark afternoon, until eleven that night when I finally collapsed into bed. The next morning the incessant thoughts continued one right after another. I could not believe the way my mind was possessed. I could not will it away. I could not alter these repetitive thoughts. I’d hit a bump in the car, “Oh hell, were my eyes on the road, or was I not paying attention? Did I just hit a squirrel, a cat, dog or child? Oh my God!” I was terrified. “Look in your rear view mirror…look.” “Bang!” I hit another bump and now I “know” I was not paying attention. “Oh shit”, I gotta check the road, the roadside and trees. Perhaps the victim may have crawled. Check it and check it some more. I’d check it a good hour and then realize I was late for class so now I must hurry. I was always in a hurry. I burst into class and took my seat without making eye contact with anyone. I thought, and thought, “Did I check it out good enough?” I must return and check some more. “Oh shit,” this was torture. What about the bathroom I used before class? Did I turn the faucet off or would it flood? Perhaps I did not turn the lights off? Would the custodian check the lights? If not perhaps there would be a fire. It was conceivable….possible, right? Over there…there is a black spot on the floor. The letter I just wrote in my notes, does not look entirely legible. Rewrite it now! The light on the ceiling of the classroom looks off. Off kilter that is. Are they going to fall? Here I am, right in the middle of a college class, staring at the ceiling. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” People started staring at me. Classmates avoided me. The professors knew there was something wrong. But, where are the brave ones? No one intervened. No one tried to help me. I was alone. Alone in my own hell. I could no longer control my thinking. I could no longer control my mind. I paced my bedroom in my folk’s house. My body reacted to my mind. I would pace constantly, like a caged animal. I was shaking; my eyes were darting, then fixated. I was sweating and sweating some more. I knew my thinking was wrong, absurd, cruel and painful, but I could not, just could not stop thinking these crazy thoughts. Something had control of my mind and it wasn’t me. Think Daniel, “Think!” There must be a way to think my way out of this dreadful affliction. But I could not use my sick mind to cure my sick mind. My breathing sped up. My heart rate would climb. My mind was so full of worries, blurred with too many to keep track of. I prayed all the time. I could not tell anyone about this. I was embarrassed, scared, terrified, and confused. Every day was a bad dream. I’d wake up in the morning with my heart in my throat. I was filled with fear and the dread of the day looming in front of me. The morning was the worst part of the day, and the best part of the day was returning to bed. Shutting my eyes as my mind would turn ,temporarily, off. What I did not know in the year of 1981 at age 21, was that I had O.C.D. (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), and not just a mild, check the stove three times case of O.C.D. I had an extreme, torturing illness. O.C.D. can be a mildly annoying part of one’s life, or it can possess you and destroy you. I would never be the same again. I cried myself to sleep routinely. I sobbed and cried out to God to free me from this Hell. But it only got worse. I was ostracized by people, disowned by family, fired from numerous jobs, kicked out of bars, into numerous fights, both verbal and physical. I was arrested, put in prison, attaining a criminal record, put diamonds on three girl’s fingers, and a cubic zirconium on the forth and fifth. I became a recluse and so very sad and all alone.