Yesterday was a very busy day and I actually went out to more than 1 place. Of course I had no choice in the matter and that is the most difficult part for me. I Did Not Want To!! I had to take mother to get her flu shot and then to the lab for testing. I actually stopped by a local store to shop a little, went to the grocery store and then came home, all while mom sat in the car. Today I am pretty much a zombie. Way to much outside time and I am no overload. One therapist I saw(only once) wanted to add OCD to my list of problems. I am beginning to believe her. Lately, I seem to be grabbing on to 1 thing in my mind and working it to death. Yesterdays' outing actually made me ill---physically sick. OVERLOAD

OMG!!!! Something just came back to me from my blank past. It was my job when I was a kid to clear the kitchen table. I had to scrap the uneaten food onto a newspaper and take it to the trash can and then wash the dishes. If I got any of that food on my hands I would get nausous and run to the bathroom to be sick. My Dad would tease me and call what I had "dish washers diahhrea". I was actually terrified to get any of what I considered garbage on my hands. I Sure am glad that I do not have any problem now with junk on my hands--I own cats!

HMMMM, seems a small snippet from my blank past is returning for no apparent reason. Oh Well! Maybe it will make sense to me some time. Sure does not now. But I am finally to visualize the kitchen in my childhood home for the first time in my mind. I can close my eyes and I can see every inch of the place. I spent a very large amount of my time in that kitchen. Reason being that I hated mashed potatoes and green peas and refused to eat them. My father thought it was a really good idea to make me eat that junk so I had to sit at the kitchen table until I did eat, no matter how long I sat there or how cold the stuff got. I would sit there even after everyone was finished and gone and had turned out the lights. So there I sat in the dark with cold mashed potatoes and green peas in front of me. Gee, think that made me somewhat stressed-wierd-sensitive-withdrawn-pick a condition! My dad was "such a prince". He once even made my sister eat something she did not like and she threw up on the kitchen table in the middle of dinner. I do believe that I can finally blame my PTSD on my father. Now the question is Why? What did he do to me??????????