Obsessive compulsion

Obsession:
Pronunciation: \äb-se-shən, əb-\
Function: noun
Date: 1680

1: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling ; broadly : compelling motivation
2: something that causes an obsession
— ob·ses·sion·al adjective
— ob·ses·sion·al·ly adverb

I don't understand about obsessions. Fetishes, leanings, cravings, yearnings and desires, I get, but not obsession, especially when it comes to an obsession with people. Maybe that makes me shallow or just more interested in living than in focusing all my energy and attention on one object or person. I wouldn't say I have ADD, but rather that I have a short attention span for minutiae and people.

I've always said I have a magpie mind, attracted to bright and shiny new information and knowledge, and I do have interests in several subjects, like the history and mythology of Atlantis and Egypt and Stonehenge and the world in general. I hear those words or see them on a book and I want to know more. For instance, I know a lot about Jack the Ripper, especially the facts of the case and all the data gathered during and after the murders. It's always fascinated me. One book I didn't read was Patricia Cornwell's book about who she thinks The Ripper is, treads too heavily in obsessive territory. That is one writer who has too much money and far too much time on her hands, and is obviously bored with writing for her character, according to the most recent reviews of her books. She's lost her momentum, but then that happens when writing turns into a chore. It's the reason Stephen King's writer killed off Misery. That put him in touch with his fan base, a Misery-obsessed ex-nurse with a god complex, but, hey, that's life.

I've always wondered why some people get obsessed with other people. I wasn't even obsessed with my husbands when I was married and I've walked away from my share of lovers along the way. When I'm done; I'm done. No sense going back like a dog revisiting it's vomit or feline excreta. It's not worth it. That does not mean, however, that there aren't times I had a fleeting thought of "what if?" slip through my mind once in a while. I do. I just prefer to let it keep on passing. Can't change what was, only what will be and can be.

I told someone once I understand obsession, but as I find myself the object of someone's obsession, I can't say I do. I had a glimmer of a glimpse of what it's like, but no real grasp on it. What turns a seemingly intelligent person into a raving lunatic who can't get through a week or a day without checking up on their obsession? I guess if they could, they wouldn't be obsessed. If it's love or desire or a really bad case of "what if?" why does it end up turning to violence?

Once upon a time when I was a little girl in the sixth grade, I liked a very popular boy, Rob Stokes. He did all the things boys at that age do to show me he liked me. He taunted and teased me, embarrassed and found ways to get close to me. He caught flak from some of the other boys who thought he should look at more profitable (easier) territory. Then one of the boys in class, a good friend named Byron, told me that Rob didn't really want me, but he didn't want anyone else to have me either. It took me a long time to figure that one out. How could Rob want me and why would he care if someone else did? Simple. He was obsessed with me. I don't know why, but I do know when he stopped wanting me. That would be when I tried out for his singing part in Jack and the Beanstalk as the money bag and beat him. And that's when he became obsessed with me, not wanting me but wanting to make sure no one else got near me or wanted me either.

Rob was Mr. Steffens' pet. Even when Rob was tossing paper balls at the trash can and missing and Mr. Steffens made Rob get down on his hands and knees and push the paper around the room with his nose while he swatted Rob with Excalibur, the wooden paddle in the shape of a sword, Rob was still Mr. Steffens' pet. Mr. Steffens knew where the line was drawn. That's what I think is missing in people prone to obsession; they don't know where the line is drawn. They cannot get over a perceived slight or someone being better than they are at something they consider themselves to be expert or extremely talented and turn their disappointment and anger outward on the person that makes them doubt themselves and their abilities.

While Rob obviously found me attractive, he wasn't ready to give up the spotlight, or the part of the singing money bag, to me, to someone who was perceived as being able to sing and act better than he did, especially since the judge was the teacher he thought he had wrapped around his little finger. It didn't matter to Rob that I had practiced for hours or that I had to hold onto the legs of my desk with sweaty hands while I sang so my voice didn't quiver and I didn't faint from embarrassment. All that mattered to him was that someone chose me over him, someone declared me better. And thus an obsession was born, an obsession that included him doing his best to publicly humiliate me every chance he got and to say nasty things behind my back. Rob didn't know with whom he was dealing. I was used to people calling me names, especially in my own family, and his lame attempts fell on my deaf ears. I moved on. He didn't seem quite so cute any more. I always knew he was just a passing fancy; the boy I really liked was too shy to speak up and tell me so.

Rob Stokes is a fading memory. I moved on. Writing about him this morning makes me wonder if he has. If he hasn't, it's too bad. I have better things to do with my time than feed his obsession. It's called living.

That shy boy, the one who wouldn't speak up? He spoke up. Now that's a compulsion I can understand.

Coal mine canary

Animals -- dogs, cats, birds, canaries, cattle, horses, etc. -- have an innate sense of something wrong when an earthquake is about to move the earth or a volcano is going to blow. They know when the elements are gathering for a grand, and often destructive, display and they are nervous, restless, uncomfortable and anxious, acting contrary to their usually calm natures. They pace, can't sleep, can't settle down, can't focus on anything productive or on a more normal and natural action. They are disturbed emotionally, physically, mentally, psychically as they teeter on the event horizon.

I've felt the same way, restless, anxious, nervous and uncomfortable, and I'm not alone. Nearly everyone I talk to is feeling the same formless restlessness and anxiety. They're cranky, can't sleep, unfocused and unhappy and it has been going on for a while now. It reminds me of Egon explaining to Winston that if you look at normal psychokinetic energy as a Twinkie, the current buildup of psychokinetic energy would make the Twinkie 35 feet long and weighing approximately 600 pounds, but that's only in New York. That's a big Twinkie. Think about how big it would be if you measured the psychokinetic energy over the whole U.S. It would feed the world's starving for about 1000 years, providing you could keep it fresh that long.

When Lynn and I talked last night, she said she thought the restlessness began about a year ago. She may be right. As the event horizon moves closer, more and more people are affected. It finally caught up with me, or rather I can no longer find excuses for the restlessness I feel. I haven't been sleeping well for about a year, although there are periods in which I sleep for 6-7 hours at a time. I've blamed my intermittent insomnia on more physical causes when I should have been looking further afield. I do feel we are on the verge of some big blow-up and the aftermath will be worse than the levee failure in New Orleans or the devastating wake of Katrina and the worst tornado in recent memory. Something's coming and it won't be soft and squishy like a Twinkie.

Some of my friends are losing their jobs, being down sized and forced to take mandatory leave (cutting hours and days). That's never good, especially when other people are involved, like spouses and children. The fallout falls into two main categories. One category involves everyone working together to tighten belts and budget more carefully.

The other category involves the unaffected spouse blaming the affected spouse. How could you do this to me? What am I going to do? What did you do to get laid off, fired, have your hours cut? It's all about them and not about the spouse who just lost their jobs or had their hours cut. It never occurred to the unaffected spouse to consider cutting expenses or offering to help out, just blame the affected spouse for causing the problem.

No doubt rising unemployment is contributing to the anxiety and restlessness, but not all the people I know who experience this formless, nebulous disruption have lost their jobs or had their hours cut. It goes deeper than that and has much deeper roots. Whatever it is that has unsettled so much of this country's population, we should consider it the dead canary in the coal mine. Something's coming and it won't end with us drenched in torrents of warm melted marshmallow. We should hope to be so lucky.

Thief of Joy

Have you ever known someone who just cannot stand to see you happy, when every time things are quiet and you find that smile creeping back into your heart and mind that person starts a fight or contacts you out of the blue just to make sure to ruin that feeling of joy? Then it's time to wise up and pay attention because you're giving them leverage and way too much power in your life . . . and it is about power.

Every time you allow someone to turn your heart and your life inside out, you give them power. Is that what you really want? Wouldn't you rather feel the joy bubbling inside you or do you want to feel guilty all your life? Then wake up and smell the latte because it's not too late. Pay attention to the signs and either get wise or get out.

I have a friend whose life is a mess. Whose isn't these days? She spends her time up on the mountain one moment and down in the valley of fears and tears the next and all because of her husband, but it's also because of her; she can't see what she allows him to do. She does not realize the power she gives him every time he turns her inside out and upside down.

For instance, my friend decided to take some time for herself. She went out with friends and had a wonderful time. She also had plans to see another close friend a day or so later. She came home happy and excited, anticipating a few hours with her friend, someone she hadn't seen in months and missed terribly. Her husband doesn't like her friend so she limits her visits to keep him from blowing up. This time, to be on the safe side, my friend didn't tell her husband she was going to visit her friend, but he knew something was up because he knew the signs so well. Without realizing it, my friend would smile for no reason, a happy secret smile that told her husband everything he needed to know. My friend doesn't realize how much her attitude changes when she plans to go see her friend or how much her happiness and anticipation of a few hours of joy shows on her face and in her demeanor. All she does know is that he planned to turn her world upside down -- and he did. He decided to make plans and corralled his wife into believing the plans could not be changed and she must be there. She knew what would happen if she didn't give in -- arguments, shouting, fighting, anger, and repressed helpless rage -- so she let her friend know she wouldn't be able to show up. The friend was understanding -- she always is -- but the friend knew what my friend didn't; my friend had been set up. Now my friend's husband is making her pay for even wanting to have a small bit of joy that takes her out of his control and away from him because whenever his wife is with her friend thoughts of leaving her husband creep into her heart and she believes anything is possible -- anything, even happiness.

People like my friend's husband creep into our lives like thieves of joy. They cannot stand for anyone to be happy because thoughts of freedom steal into their imagination. They are slaves to unhappiness, slaves to the thieves of joy, who live for brief moments of freedom and then, like good slaves, go back to depression and fear and desperate unhappiness. It doesn't have to be this way. Recognize the signs in yourself and anyone who steals your joy and either shut them down or get as far away from them as you can because if you don't you will be a slave for the rest of your life. The thief of joy doesn't have to be a spouse, the thief can be a friend or acquaintance or even a neighbor, anyone who stomps on joy whenever and wherever they find it.

The thief of joy lives to make everyone around them miserable, including themselves. The thief of joy may seem happy to outsiders but there is a deep, dark well of rage and helplessness inside them that shows itself in many different ways. The thief of joy fills their emptiness by surrounding themselves with people (the thief may call them friends but the thief of joy doesn't really understand the concept of friendship), by shopping, by filling their time with activities, by obsessing about their children, by addictions, by living on a perpetually moving emotional roller coaster, by any number of activities and things that put a smile on their face for a day or a week or even a month, but eventually the darkness seeps out like a creeping fog that taints everything and everyone around them. They cannot allow themselves or anyone around them to be happy for long and true joy brings out the worst in them. The thief of joy will start an argument or create drama and the cycle begins again. The thief of joy anesthetizes their pain but the pain, because it has not been handled, always comes back and devours the sun of joy and everyone around them until only regret and anger and depression remain and the thief of joy is certain their mark will not venture too far for a while. Things settle down after the thief of joy has a belly full of your joy and, like a sated bear, goes to his cave to hibernate for a while. Beware! The thief of joy is not gone, he is merely digesting his meal. He will get hungry again and come rampaging out of the cave looking for another satisfying meal of your joy.

Will you be there or will you take your joy and force the thief to steal from someone else?