Monday, July 11, 2011


I was sitting here this morning trying to think up a list of things that trigger me.  The sad part is, I think the smaller list would be the things that don't, but whatever.  Maybe I can categorize them as pet peeves instead of triggers.

I tried to hide my neurotic side as much as possible.

Smacking food is the worst for me. Well, mouth noises at all. I can't take it.  I was sitting in a support group I'm attending a few weeks ago and this woman sitting across from me smacked her gum for two solid hours.  I wanted to lunge at her. The sound makes me feel ill.  I once failed a college exam because the person behind me was sucking on hard candy and I swear to you, I nearly lost my salvation on her. Ri.dic.u.lous.  I can't even listen to the dog eat because it sends me into a rage.  And if I actually tell someone in person that this bothers me, nine times out of ten, the person will 'pretend' to be smacking to see my reaction.  They'll wish they hadn' me.  I'll lose a friend over and won't even care.  I will.walk.out.

I have to have everything in the pantry with labels facing outward.  Otherwise it worries me to the point that I go into this anxiety ridden tantrum and spend three hours fixing it.

I don't appreciate going out at night.  Especially if I am riding in the car with someone else.  The light reflected onto the road makes my chest hurt.

I cannot watch T.V. with the lights out. The flicker it causes at it reflects off the walls sends me into a frenzy that's hard to come back from.

I am not a phone talker.  I'd rather text or talk in person.  Talking on the phone is quick and painless when you're speaking to me.

I hate it when someone leaves the kitchen cabinets open.

My money has to face the same direction in my wallet.

People who can't spell or use the wrong word when they're talking.

Seeing people with long sleeves on hot summer days makes me want to yank them off of them.  I get overly worried they're going to have a heat stroke.

Blinds closed in the house during the day.  I need them OPEN so my house is sunny...I don't want to live in a tomb.

My mother-in-law.

People who pop their back or hands.  Ewww...stop doing that!

People who touch their feet while they're sitting down.  Really?  Or, better yet, people who repeatedly touch their hair.

Since I have DID, my mind swims constantly.  So if someone is talking to me, my eyes are not always on them, but I am listening -- I swear.  And yet I HATE it when I'm talking to someone else and they don't look at me.  Double standard, I know.