My Family Has Made Me Crazy

I openly admit that I am crazy. I am obsessive -compulsive, a creature of habit and high strung. However, I believe that it is no accident or coincidence that I have become this way. I hold my family entirely responsible for this.

When I go to the grocery store I often think back to one time when I was around 8 yrs old and with my aunt. We were getting out of the car, clearly getting ready to walk in the store when I turned to her and asked, "where are we going?" Her reply was, "to see a man about a dog." I asked several more times not taking note of the fact that we were inside of the store at this point and she continued to say, "to see a man about a dog." So what do I do??? I started thinking we were getting a dog. I was very disappointed when that did not happen.

My cousin Darin is 6 yrs older than me and did a great job of being mean to me while growing up. He was the older brother I did not have and did not want. I often tried to play with him and his friends and he would have none of it. My aunt--the same one noted above-- always had to step in and force him to be nice to me. On one occasion Darin was eating a chocolate "Chunky" candy bar. I asked him to give me some and he said no. So I told my aunt he would not share and she yelled out as all Black mothers do and said, "boy, give that girl some of your candy!!!" So Darin in his pissed off way threw the candy at me and waited until the exact moment I was to take a bite and yelled out, "that's why it has ketchup in it!" He knew ketchup was my kryptonite. I hated ketchup. The smell of it to this day makes me nauseous. Of course I did not eat the candy and ceased immediately to eat that particular candy bar altogether.

My grandmother-----God rest her soul--- has scarred me the worse. She was one of those women who would come home from work and change into a "housecoat." However, my grandmother was an allergy sufferer just like me and often blew her nose. The problem was she was also one of those people who blew their nose and put the tissue back in her pocket. So imagine my chagrin the 100's of time she'd beckon for me to look for her keys or anything else she may have stuffed into her pocket, along with the snotty tissue. Each time she'd ask me to get something out of her pocket I'd forget and stick my hand into her pocket, accidentally touching the snotty tissue paper. To this day I do not like paper towels or tissue. I try to avoid using them altogether but when I do I use them and PROMPTLY dispose of them in such a way there is no chance of it touching me after it's been soiled.

My family has made me crazy.