Obsession...the sickness...not the perfume

I will openly admit it...

I'm OBSESSIVE.

When I get my mind situated on something, it's next to impossible for me to think about ANYTHING ELSE. AT ALL. I can't work, I can't sleep. All I can do is think, think, think about whatever it is that I'm obsessed about at that given moment.

For example...

OBSESSIVE SCENARIO 1:

When I decided it was time for Ex and I to have a baby, I researched fertility awareness and started charting my cycles. I bought books about charting, took my temperature every morning, and became insanely fascinated with whether or not I had ovulated. This is normal behavior for someone who struggles with infertility...


...but I don't. I would have gotten pregnant just as easily if I had simply downed a couple shots of tequila and pounced on Ex during the commercial break of Family Guy.




OBSESSIVE SCENARIO 2:

When most people decide they are going to buy a house, they shop around, mull it over, talk to their peers...and on occassion might even sleep on it. It's generally a slow moving process. I, on the other hand, found a house online, mapped it's location, hired a realtor, and wrote up a contract...all on my lunch break. (SIDEBAR: This turned out to be the best decision I have ever made for myself...but still...I moved like a back-row baptist out of the sanctuary on super bowl Sunday!)

OBSESSIVE SCENARIO 3:

I decided I was going to take up soapmaking. Normally when someone develops a hobby they move into it slowly. They gradually decide that they enjoy spending their time doing it. They become better at it and refine their craft. Not me. I bought enough lye off of the internet to run a small factory for a year and spent countless hours researching essential oils and the ratio of lathering agents to hardness agents in order to design my own recipes. Within the space of 2 weeks I made about 9 batches of various soap...all which I have thrown out because they either smelled like straight up butt, or felt, for lack of a better description, like snot.

As if that wasn't enough, I have thought of a business name for my "soap company" and thought of what I would say to Wal-Mart when they decide to buy my product line from me.




I could keep going. But really...is there any need. I mean, haven't I proven my point? And yes...I am embarrassed to admit all of this to the extremely remote corners of the internet...but I hear the first step in healing is admitting you have a problem.

I think it's beyond obvious.....

I have a problem.

This is something that I have been thinking (obsessing) about a lot lately in light of The Medic entering my life. So far, he has not caught on to the fact that I am...let's call a spade a spade...insane. He still thinks I'm calm, cool, and collected. He even went so far the other night to describe me as "having my act together" and "down to earth." Obviously I'm either a great actress or an incredible kisser. Possibly even both.

This is something I intend to get to the bottom of. And because I now own this little corner of the internet called Grace.Gets.Greater, I'm putting it all out there. Maybe someone will be able to relate. Maybe someone will have some insight.

It's the closest thing I have to therapy seeing as how I blew my ACTUAL therapy money on stuff to make butt scented snot soap.