At the Dentist

At the Dentist | Cat CaddyClick to enlarge.

Yes, those were my literal thoughts at the time. This hygienist was a bit too thorough in examining the landscape in there. I sat there conjuring up all manner of horrible things that might have gone wrong in my mouth in the last 6 months.

And then a BRAND NEW dentist walks in, and I’m trying hard to fight back panic and tears (as the only thing that kept me going at all was the trust I had built up with the dentist I had, who recently moved away, I’m screwed). Then he opens my mouth, moves my tongue around, and says “I’M JUST CHECKING FOR CANCER.” Jesus!

Oh, and I have some work that he wanted to have done. So it was an immediate trip to the Xanax distribution store after that. And then I cried at the smoothie shop.

And this is my mental process every time I get my teeth cleaned!



Cat Caddy | Handwashing

I have OCD.

And because so many people say, “I’m so OCD about organizing my DVDs” and “I have like, so many little OCD things I do, lol!” I always have to follow this statement with “…the clinical kind.” As in, the kind that interferes with your life.

I’ve lost count of how many times in a day I wash my hands. By the time I’ve gotten out of the bathroom in the morning, I’ve washed my hands at least three times. To say nothing of how many times I sanitize my hands in between proper washings. Basically every time I touch something.

Before you even ask, the answer is yes. Yes I do.

Don’t you know that washing your hands that often is bad for you? That you decrease the body’s resistance to bacteria that way? That science says we should play in the dirt instead of sanitizing our hands all the time? Aren’t your hands raw from all that washing?


Besides being fodder for pop culture amusement (you have to admit it’s a pretty interesting and entertaining mental affliction), repetitive hand washing isn’t really about getting clean and ridding the body of germs. It’s about providing a tangible means to mitigate anxiety through the illusion of control. You could think of it as being like humming or carrying a security blanket. Except it’s inconvenient. And it takes forever. And it makes your hands raw. And it’s never enough.

I have a problem.