When The Thoughts Come

I’m never home long before the thoughts come.
I will have put away my things, grabbed a snack, and just settled into the couch ready to unwind after work when it’ll start.
Did you lock the door?
It’s not a rhetorical question. I know the answer. It’s yes. It’s always yes. It’s always yes because I always lock the door to my office building whenever I leave. I checked multiple times. I know I locked it.
But did you really?
Cf course. I remember grabbing my key was awkward because I was balancing my backpack and my coat in the same hand. I locked the door, then rattled on it several times.
Are you sure that was today? What if that was yesterday?
It’s a terrible thing to not trust your own mind. Our own perspective should be one of the only things we can rely on. But these sorts of doubts hang over me like the world’s least effective umbrella, protecting me against absolutely nothing.
What if the door did that thing where it seems locked, but the mechanism didn’t catch? All it would take is one push. There’s expensive computers in there. Someone could break in and take it, and it would be your fault.
There’s a reason this part is called ‘obsessive.’ Perhaps another person could ignore these thoughts, could understand they are irrational and self-defeating, could distract themselves by turning on a movie or reading the news.
But not me. And that’s why I feel defeated as soon as that first thought comes. Because I know it’s not just a blip in my brain. It’ll consume me for the rest of the evening.
It’s not like I don’t try to ignore it. I think logically—that even if I happen to have left the door unlocked, the chances of anyone trying to break in are vanishingly small. We have an alarm system. Nothing bad will happen.
Logic, however, is not the right weapon for this particular battle. My obsessive thoughts are not forged from logic; they are a product of fear. Fear is not logical and therefore will not respond. Instead, it just fuels the pit in my stomach, stoking flames deep in my guts until I am nauseated. I am unable to eat, my head feels dizzy, and I want to be sick.
My mind is telling me how to feel better. Here is where the ‘compulsive’ part kicks in.
If you really wanted to be sure, you could go check the doors.
I am in the kitchen now, preparing dinner. A simple meal, but I am still losing my place, making dumb mistakes. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to eat.
The thought of the doors being unlocked has not left my mind once in the hours since I’ve been home. I have turned away and pushed back against it and yet it has not gone away. I wrestle with the instinct to grab my keys and go, just so I can get some peace.
Why don’t you just check?
I last a few more hours. It is 1am, and I can’t sleep. I’m close to tears as these thoughts roll over and over. My body is both restless and rigid. My mind is telling me how to make it all go away.
And that’s how I end up standing in front of my office building in my pyjamas. The air is frosty; I can feel the sprinkle of rain. I grab hold of the front door handle and give it a good tug. It is locked. Nodding, I return to my car, with the intention of hopping inside and going straight home to bed.
But I don’t do that. Instead, I turn back around to the door, and my hands reach for the handle to check it again. It is locked. I rattle on it harder. It is locked.
The rain is now coming down hard, but I don’t go back to my car. I circle the building, tapping every window to check they’re closed. I check the back door that I never use. I walk around and around until I am soaking wet and freezing.
I just want to go home.
I allow myself one final check before I wrench myself away. The fear has eased, though I remain afraid of how little control I seemingly have over my own mind.
I figure I have granted myself a least a little time. I hope I can sleep.