31 Comments
Mar 2, 2023Liked by Rachel Katz

Rae Katz, stunning essay! It reminded me of a couple of situations from my own life. I see myself as a controller in some sense. I like believing that I control the situation; this feeling grants me some type of inner calmness and sense of security. Details play a big role in any situation, if you ask me. Since the day we got engaged, I make sure I'm aware and sure of her well-being and safety. Whenever she would leave the house, not purposefully but automatically, I'd check her location once every 1-2 hours. Periodically, I text her a little, "Are you alright?" and if 30 minutes go by without a reply, I find myself, on a subconscious level, worried, unable to work or really think of anything else. This type of checking in and her quick "all good" are really important to me. Snaps me back instantly. As of COVID, though it's seen as most dangerous to children and the elderly, we took absolutely all the precautions. I am an analyst, and all my life I have been used to thinking through every stage of my life in advance. I'd never rely on hope or someone else. I play in the long run. Therefore, since childhood, I have loved to observe people, their behavior, and their reactions to any events around them. I know that it’s impossible to control everything, but inside of me there is this fear that if I don’t make it my responsibility to ensure the well-being of my family and close friends, God knows what could occur. I wouldn't forgive myself. Some might call me crazy, but looking at the statistics of everything horrible that happens to people today, I just won't be able to sleep until I know my wife and children are okay.

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this is beautiful in a heart-breaking kind of way, I think? because I wish I could read this from an outsider's perspective and think, "wow, that sounds really challenging," but instead I feel it in my body in big ways - the kind of ways that touch grief, that relate to my own fears and anxieties. thank you so much for writing this. glad you're here, living with these complexities (and kind of selfishly, I'm glad I'm not alone in this world of complex experience with fear)

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Mar 2, 2023·edited Mar 3, 2023Liked by Rachel Katz

i love you, Rae. this takes courage and i’m honored to witness it.

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Mar 2, 2023Liked by Rachel Katz

I appreciate your candor and the amount of energy you put into this query. I experienced tremors of the sort that obsessed you so profoundly, but was only mildly shaken. Your submission sparked some musings and gave me some insights I would have missed, as I had ignored those little tremors. Thank you.

As a kid I stepped over the inner cracks you describe so candidly, as I did the cut lines I grew up stepping over on New York City’s imperfect concrete sidewalks.

In the wake of the exuberance and disillusionment of the 1960’s, I distilled the necessities out of my small, stuffed apartment into a 1963 Volvo station wagon and headed for the granite walls that held Yosemite Valley.

Hanging from my fingers and toes hundreds of feet above the rocks below was a test of fire for me. I delighted in the sensuality, the muscular and mental tension, in the fragrances of sun-burnt skin and sun-baked granite. I camped there climbing for a few months.

Visually it was a profound experience, this trade off of imposing granite skylines and the sometimes “mean” and dangerous streets for the grandeur of a steep-walled canyon. The death of a fellow climber who, in ecstasy I’m guessing, had rappelled off the end of his rope in a tragic accident, shook me out of the trance climbing had been for me. I could just as well enjoy the wild country from the ground as from the walls, and perhaps enjoy it for a bit longer.

I now live in Montana, several hundred miles from the Yellowstone caldera. I have heard that if this one blows it will take a substantial part of Montana with it. When I lived near Yellowstone I was aware of the caldera. Now a few hundred more miles away (still in Montana) I never think of that. Distance makes the heart grow calmer, I guess. If we are alive on Earth we straddle all kinds fault lines, and between our imperfect risk calculations and the lust for aliveness, we manage to negotiate our way along some how, don’t we?

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Thank you for sharing this. I love the widening of my horizons that comes from reading another human’s honest story and both feeling seen and similar and feeling how unique and wonderfully varied we all are at the exact same time. Its also a beautifully written, beautifully paced story. Thank you again.

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This is such carefully wrought and beautiful writing about such a difficult and consuming disease and life experience. I relate very strongly to the image of the baby goat trying to walk.

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Mar 2, 2023Liked by Rachel Katz

Wow. I appreciate this so much as it gives me reason to be more empathetic around others who may be secretly dealing with something like this.

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Really loved this story and your courage for sharing it!

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Wow, thank you for sharing so vulnerably. My wife has harm OCD too and this essay perfectly encapsulates how she has described it to me. It's a cruel and brutal disorder.

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Holy crap. First: the writing: wow!!! Damn good prose. Second: I just wrote about this very thing myself: https://reallife82.substack.com/p/obsessive-compulsive-disorder

I relate so, so, SO much to this. I’m going to read it again, and to my girlfriend. (Great title btw.)

Michael Mohr

‘The Incompatibility of Being Alive’

https://reallife82.substack.com/

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Beautiful essay, Rae. Thank you for your depth and vulnerability. (And yes, weekends are for catching up on the oldies and goodies in your inventory now that I'm paid <3)

This makes me think back to my first obsessive compulsions in my childhood. My parents had the living room TV on, and as an ultra-observant child does, I paid attention. The story was about Elizabeth Smart, the child kidnapped from her bedroom in the middle of the night. At that moment, I felt tremendous anxiety, a feeling I couldn't shake off, that I was no longer secure in my own home, and that the foundation of stability was stripped from beneath my feet. Helpless, all I could do was voice my fears, but that didn't work--my parents said it's just the news; it'll never happen to you. Every day, while my parents were at work and I was at home with my grandmother, I'd check to ensure our doors and windows were locked inside our home. I spent hours every day doing this. Our home is not big. Even if the door were locked five minutes ago, I'd check again five minutes later to ensure no intruders were breaking an entry. I slept with my parents in their bed for the rest of the season.

Do I still check all of these little things today? No, thank goodness. But damn, children are perceptive. You can't hide them from the world sometimes.

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As a Brazilian who moved to LA 3 years ago, my fear of earthquakes is genuine. I would love to say I don't think about this, but it would be a lie. I keep comparing and reassessing the risks of living in São Paulo and being mugged, robbed.. shot.. and earthquakes. Or moving to Israel.. with the rockets. Will there ever be a place/time when our heads can be appeased?

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