Contamination OCD: What is that in my kitchen sink?

I saw Larry bringing a bicycle tire tube into the house. He walked in right beside where I was sitting at my computer. But I didn’t say anything.

I really didn’t think anything, either.

I knew he was looking for a possible hole in my bike tire, so I guess I just figured, vaguely, that it had something to do with that.

I was focusing on what I was doing, so I didn’t say a word.

Then I heard the water running in the kitchen.

I got up and walked to the kitchen door.

There my husband stood, tire tube in the sink. He was turning it round and round, looking for a hole.

In the kitchen sink.

I don’t even remember for sure what I said. Something like, “Oh, no, tell me you’re not doing that.”

I heard him call out, “What did you say?”

I was already on the way back to my computer.

I decided that I just didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to stand and stare at something that would only upset me.

He would have to take care of any cleaning up, I decided.

He soon brought the tire tube to me, showing me the hole and asking me to mark it with a yellow highlighter, since I didn’t have any chalk.

I still didn’t say anything about the sink.

Let him handle it, I told myself.

Later, when he came back into the house from his shop, I did ask him about it.

“You’re going to wash out the sink, aren’t you?”

“Why would I need to do that?” he asked.

I knew that he was teasing me and that he would be washing the sink.

I just didn’t want to watch.

  Have you ever just let go like this, when you knew trying to control the situation would only upset you?

I may be huffing and puffing, but I'm helping my depression and anxiety

I was breathing so hard I could barely inhale before I had to exhale. My heart was beating hard, and I was sure it had moved up near my throat. My feet felt like they were slapping the surface of the track. And my hip hurt.

I felt like that Thursday evening after work when I was exercising at the Y. I had started out walking but decided to jog a little.

All I could think as I pushed myself around the indoor track was, I am so out of shape. Then all I could think was, I can’t do this. And then all I could think was, this is supposed to make me feel better?

Conventional wisdom says exercise is good for our health, including our mental health. I decided to do a little research into why it was helpful.

According to an article on the website Science Daily, exercises benefits those with depression and anxiety disorders and should be prescribed by mental health providers.

The article was based on a news release in April 2010 about research that had been done that showed “the efficacy of exercise programs in reducing depression and anxiety.”

It said it could be helpful to those who could not or did not wish to access traditional therapies such as cognitive behavioral therapy and medication. It said exercise could also, as one of the researchers put it, act as a “’supplement to the traditional treatments, helping patients become more focused and engaged.’”

The researcher went on to say, “’Exercise appears to affect, like an antidepressant, particular neurotransmitter systems in the brain, and it helps patients with depression re-establish positive behaviors. For patients with anxiety disorders, exercise reduces their fears of fear and related bodily sensations such as a racing heart and rapid breathing.’”

The Mayo Clinic website also discusses the benefits of exercise to those with depression and anxiety. The release of neurotransmitters and endorphins may help depression, it said, and exercise also reduced immune system chemicals that could make depression worse. It said the increase in body temperature that resulted from exercise might be calming.

According to the website, exercise was also beneficial because it helped patients gain confidence, took their mind off their worries, provided them with more social interaction and helped them cope with their illnesses in a healthy manner.

I can vouch for exercise making us feel better. After I walk or bike, I feel energized and positive. I feel good about myself because I took the time to exercise and followed through on a plan to be active. Even hours after I finish exercising, I feel calmer.

And exercising just makes me feel strong.

For me, exercise is an adjunct to my other treatments, including therapy and medication. It can only help my depression and anxiety, plus it has benefits for my heart, joints and other body systems.

I am committed to exercising more and setting some goals. One goal I already have is to run in the Giblet Jog on Thanksgiving Day. The Giblet Jog is a 5K walk/run held every year in my town. It will be my first race.

I have a lot of work to do before then. But I’m making progress. Remember all that whining I was doing about my exercise session? I found that the longer I walked (I stopped jogging), the better I felt. Even my hip seemed to warm up and relax.

And one of my birthday gifts was a pair of biking gloves. I am ready to go!

For some general information about being physically active, follow this link.

What is your favorite form of exercise? How does exercise benefit you?

Anxiety on the bike trail

Part of the road in English Park.

On Saturday morning, my husband and I decided to bike in English Park, the park that runs along the river that I wrote about last week.

Last summer was the first time we rode our bikes in the park, and we biked on the road that circles the playing fields. It was good exercise, but we were literally going in circles. And we had to watch out for cars and walkers and slow down periodically for the speed bumps.

This spring, there’s a new road leading from the old part of the park to the new, still largely undeveloped part of the park. That’s the road we took Saturday.

The new road is gravel set in asphalt, a little rough, but smooth enough. It winds under a train trestle, but there’s a shelter built underneath to protect walkers, runners and bikers as they pass under.

Me before the coughing started.

Further back, the road narrows and is made up of dirt and gravels. It winds along beside the Staunton River, and soon all we could hear were the sounds of the water, birds singing, the wind in the trees and our own voices.

The road is fairly level, so we made good time, slowing down periodically to enjoy the sights. We were surrounded by green: trees, bushes and weeds. Sometimes rocks rose to our right, part of the river bluffs.

Then I started coughing.

I have asthma. My doctor calls it of medium severity, but I think I do pretty well most of the time. I use a maintenance inhaler, Advair, and I have a rescue inhaler.

That morning before we left for the park, I used my rescue inhaler because I was feeling a little wheezy and exercise sometimes brings on an asthma attack.

I didn’t use the Advair, and I’m sorry to say I had not used it the night before either.

I am usually a compliant patient in that once I’m on a medication, I take it as directed unless I have a problem with it, at which time I call the doctor.

But I’m different with Advair. It’s silly, really. I am supposed to take one puff twice a day. Easy enough. But I have to rinse my mouth after I use it, and sometimes I don’t think I have time to do that. So I skip a dose. Yes, that’s pretty silly.

Back on the trail in the park, we had biked through a section where something—blooms, pollen, something—was heavy in the air, and I started coughing.

We stopped and I drank some water. Still coughing. I was out of breath, and I just couldn’t bike any further. I took out my inhaler and told Larry I’d stay where we were and he could go on.

He rode further down the road.

You might wonder why I would have him go ahead of me when I was starting with an asthma attack. It’s because we’re used to them. I cough, get short of breath, use my inhaler, and get back to normal, and everything’s fine.

He rode out of sight, and I shook my inhaler and squeezed. Nothing came out. It was a dead inhaler.

By then, tears were running down my cheeks from the exertion of coughing, and my hands were shaking. I was coughing so hard that I thought I would surely throw up.

We were at least a mile from the truck, and even if I could get there, I didn’t have another inhaler. My extra was at home.

With no option of an inhaler, I decided I’d try to calm down the attack on my own. I let the coughs come out, and then I pushed my bike slowly back up the trail, towards the truck and towards some shade.

I drank some more water.

A photo I took while I was trying to calm down: rocks and trees.

And I tried to concentrate on the sounds around me. I don’t often get to a place where I can hear no human sounds, only nature’s sounds. I decided to savor them.

By the time Larry got back, I was calm and could breathe better. I was grateful that it had been a mild attack.
We rode on back to the truck, and I made it fine, though I was still coughing a little.

And when I got home? Yes, I used the Advair. It’s not a quick fix, but it’s time I started using as directed to help stave off these attacks.

Will I check my inhaler before the next bike ride? You know I will.

What’s the hardest thing you have to be willing to do to maintain good health?