I’m not sure exactly when I started to realize that I’m not “normal.” Childhood memories spring to mind in which I had to take all actions in twos, or had weird urges to smell things.
Maybe it was the intrusive voices I heard in my head telling me that things were bad or that I should hurt myself (I never did, thankfully.) Perhaps it was even that phase I went through in which I believed all inanimate objects had feelings, so if I snapped a piece of celery or crumpled a piece of paper I had to silently apologize to the afflicted item(s).
I wish that I knew in my childhood what I know now. These weird episodes, which also included on and off bouts of trichotillomania and various phobias that came and went, were ones I always chalked up to being uptight or “weird.”
It wasn’t until college that I began to put the pieces together and realize that all of my seemingly unrelated quirks may add up to something...
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