Every Sunday night I feel compelled to check my work email to see what came in over the weekend. It's not that I'm required to, nor do I even need to, it's that I have a great fear of things going on that I am not aware of.
It's OCD telling me, "You'd better check to see if your co-workers have been trying to reach you. Maybe you're missing something important. This could when they figure out you're no good at what you do. Check the email. Check it. Check it."
Never mind that anyone who needs me can reach me by cell -- everyone has my number and I always have my phone.
It's hard to describe the feeling of anxiety that comes over me. I tell myself not to check my email, but 99 percent of the time, it's less painful to essentially start my work week on Sunday night, than it is to ruminate on what might be going on without me knowing.
For the first time, tonight, as I was checking my work email I saw a connection with something I used to do as a child. It may be a loose connection, but I believe it's OCD related.
As a kid, when I was spending time watching TV or talking with my family and I'd have leave to go to the bathroom, I'd feel a great anxiety to not miss anything, to rush back out to them as soon as possible. As a result, when I would wash my hands, I'd rarely fully dry them. I just couldn't take that time.
So my hands were often chapped and red and sometimes bleeding.
I remember thinking as a child I need to dry my hands better, or they'll be sore again. But more often than not I couldn't stand the anxiety of not being out with the rest of the family.
The pain of the chapped hands was preferable to the pain of missing out.
It's OCD telling me, "You'd better check to see if your co-workers have been trying to reach you. Maybe you're missing something important. This could when they figure out you're no good at what you do. Check the email. Check it. Check it."
Never mind that anyone who needs me can reach me by cell -- everyone has my number and I always have my phone.
It's hard to describe the feeling of anxiety that comes over me. I tell myself not to check my email, but 99 percent of the time, it's less painful to essentially start my work week on Sunday night, than it is to ruminate on what might be going on without me knowing.
For the first time, tonight, as I was checking my work email I saw a connection with something I used to do as a child. It may be a loose connection, but I believe it's OCD related.
As a kid, when I was spending time watching TV or talking with my family and I'd have leave to go to the bathroom, I'd feel a great anxiety to not miss anything, to rush back out to them as soon as possible. As a result, when I would wash my hands, I'd rarely fully dry them. I just couldn't take that time.
So my hands were often chapped and red and sometimes bleeding.
I remember thinking as a child I need to dry my hands better, or they'll be sore again. But more often than not I couldn't stand the anxiety of not being out with the rest of the family.
The pain of the chapped hands was preferable to the pain of missing out.
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