The germ freak inside....

          I should begin with a brief history. My father comes from a family that implanted the fear of germs into their heads. If this is what you grow up with, many things can seem gross and washing your hands a lot might be the least of your cleaning issues. My mother on the other hand, came from a household of the opposite mind.
          The example that best describes it is this: Whilst my mother finished up her last semester in college, my father lived with her parents. He really didn't want my grandmother making him lunch everyday (even if he couldn't cook a bit), because she and my grandfather were being so good to him. So at some point in the first two weeks he decided it was time to start making some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oooo yeah! This my friends is quite a sacrifice, I will tell you. However this is not about my dad being a fair man. He got all the ingredients (so many there were, heh), but could not find the jelly. He asked my grandmother. She grabbed it out of the fridge. He opened it and at once noticed the mold. Almost as soon as he started the sentence ("Ummmm, there's some mold on this..."), my grandmother grabbed the jar. She said, "Let me see that." Then she got a knife, scraped it out, and promptly handed it back to him, saying, "There you go, good as new!" My father left horrified with nothing to do but eat it out of pure politeness. And probably avoid all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in that house for a while.
          All my life I have had a mix of these two things. It is a good balance. I have however not gone untouched by the 'germ crazy'. I am definitely not a moldy food eater. It is a categorical fact that I wash my hands much too often. And what goes on in my head concerning germs is the most embarrassing and ridiculous germ crazy of all. That is what this is about.
          I was with my boyfriend on the beach the other night taking photos. I decided just to enjoy the fresh air, the sound of the waves, and watching his cute ass take photos from time to time (instead of taking any photos of my own). We did have to find a good spot to put his camera on first. He was playing with light and time for these specific photos. From this spot though what he would really need is a tripod. Neither of us has one. What he decided on was a garbage can. Great.
          He has no germs issues. In fact, when I am out and about and can not wash my hands, I don't worry about germs either. Okay it might cross my mind, but then it's gone. I think that's just a survival skill I've learned over years of public transport, planes, just living life. But then as I watched him set up my attention was monopolized, not by the sea, the sand or even his cute patootie.... but by the garbage can and the amount of it that was coming in contact with my boyfriend's clothes and hands. It's making me cringe now... a week later. Eeeek.
          I tried (repeatedly) to reason with myself. It's okay. No problem. I'm not touching it. But the other thoughts came in. And these thoughts are the killers. I can't even believe I'm sharing them. They go as follows..... 
           He will sit on the couch when we get home at some point. The couch I share with him. Will he wash his hands before making dinner? Is he going to touch my face when he kisses me? When he hugs me all my clothes will get garbageness on them. And so on.
           A bit irrational? Yes. Extreme? I would say so. So I kept telling myself, 'Just don't say anything when you get inside. Get over it . 'Noooo, problem. Right? All I had to do was use the tried and true method of mind over matter.... right? Right. 
          Is this what I did? Well, I tried. Vigorously. In my mind. But the nagging, no, gnawing, growing stress of the gross out factor and spreading of the germs all over the house overwhelmed me.
          I think what pushed me over the edge was when my sweet boyfriend came over and gave me a hug and kiss (with hands on face, by the way). What's worse, he was making sure I wasn't bored or too alone. He was being thoughtful and loving. I knew that. Nevertheless, all I could think about was the germs. Clearly I have a problem.
          Sadly, I didn't even make it the 2 minute walk home before I told him to make sure to wash his hands before making dinner. I did point out that I knew I was nuts. He agreed. I changed my outer layer of clothes when we got home. Luckily he did too, he favors pajamas at night... YAY for me! (Was that too enthusiastic?)
          My point? I don't remember. However, if you have anything strange and pervasive that invades your thoughts.... work on it. I'm still trying. Still I do think I will forever avoid moldy food. Just sayin'.

kimbersfrog