Fixated

Put the kettle on, four minutes, remove. Did I turn the flame off? It was my seventh time checking that I finally felt that it was truly off. I was relatively sure it was off. But is the door locked? I was sure when I checked it twenty-seven times this afternoon. I better check again. Twenty-seven more times.

I know this all sounds crazy, but this is obsessive compulsive disorder. Or so my therapist tells me. I scrubbed the floor thirty-seven times today. It seems I fixate on the seventh instance of something. All of which, the therapist says, point to OCD. Fine, I’m just fixated on numbers and it hasn’t yet affected my livelihood. Sure I look a bit strange closing my car door seventeen times and then locking it remotely another seven but I could be one of those pigeon ladies outside the subway.

But at least I’m rationally minded. The constant checking and rechecking helps to keep me safe. I make sure the burner is off multiple times, that the door is locked even more. I can’t help but feel forgetful, that perhaps the one time I don’t check is the time a burglar gets in or a fire breaks out.

I often find myself fixated on people as well. Something a person is wearing, that I stare at or feel a strong need to touch, multiple times. Clothing really can tell you a lot about a person. About the evilness that broods deep within some people. And I can tell that when someone reacts inappropriately to my touching the object that has caught my attention that these are the evil ones. The ones who slap a hand away, call attention, they are the ones who have my attention then.

And when I catch them outside their safety nets of population, I always make sure they will no longer be a threat. I can be sure because I check their restraints seventeen times. I check the locks on their holding room twenty-seven. I make them a tea laced with Ambien and then check the burner seven times. I bludgeon them exactly seventeen. This usually requires me to scrub the floor deeply, taking around thirty-seven times.

This evil mistress has been number sixteen and maybe I am one closer to banishing all the evil in this world. How many are there? Seventeen? Forty-seven? All I know is that like all my other fixations, I’ll just know when the time is right to stop. That day is not today. There is still so much evil out there that I must protect myself from. And I’ll check and recheck and recheck until I know I’m safe.