OC Me by Kristin Albright

Author:Kristin Albright [Albright, Kristin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kristin Albright
Published: 2014-08-11T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

She made herself stronger by fighting with the wind.

~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

It’s funny, you would think that having worked with Mrs. Millen that maybe things would start to get easier. Like maybe, I would be able to say to myself, “Hey you’re just worried because your brain is sending your thoughts back at you over and over like a ping pong ball being bounced against the wall. But instead of it being easier, it’s harder in a lot of ways. I started keeping a little notebook with me that I write my worries down in. The fear thoughts are growing in number, and sometimes it is hard to keep track of them. In addition to driving and germs, lately it seems like I worry if I’m telling the complete truth. Like if I accidentally omit something, it’s as bad as outright lying.

As ridiculous as it sounds, when we were at the museum James asked me which painting was my favorite, and I told him the one with the man in the rowboat on the choppy sea. But at dinner I was thinking that maybe that painting wasn’t my favorite; maybe, I liked the Monet one better. I started feeling guilty that I’d lied to him when I know that in reality, I just changed my mind! I actually interrupted him while he was telling me about his grandma to tell him that. While he didn’t seem to mind, I felt like it was so rude of me. It seems that no matter what situation I’m in, everything has to revolve around me. It’s all about making sure that I’m not panicking about something and it’s so tiring.

I guess the good thing about meeting with Mrs. Millen is that she is helping me get some clarity on the situation, and just sharing my troubles with her each week is like having weights taken off of my chest. It’s like if she doesn’t say, “Amy! Why would you use the water fountain without washing your hands first? You could kill someone!” then it’s almost like her saying the opposite of that, that I have no need to worry about using the water fountain without washing my hands first. I almost imagine myself stepping into a confessional, but instead of a priest sitting on the other side of a dark curtain, it is Mrs. Millen and her cup of tea sitting in a purple Barnes and Noble chair patiently waiting for me to unload. The assignment she gave me was to try and identify the triggers for my fear-thoughts. I didn’t tell her, but the list would probably be shorter if I listed the things that didn’t trigger them.

…

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