Saturday, January 14, 2012


Post Traumatic Poop Disorder

Hi, my name is Kim and I suffer from PTPD.  When I was a child, I was severely affected by stepping in dog feces and urine with my bare feet.  I cannot stand feet.  Manicures-perfectly acceptable.  Pedicures are right out!  No one, and I mean NO ONE, is allowed to touch my feet.  I will only touch my feet in the rarest of circumstances and I will not touch the feet of my husband or children.  I know why I am this way and I have no intention of changing.  So there.  La.*

On a more sober note, this really does mess me up and I think it has contributed to my lack of connection ability with people.  I can form meaning relationships, but I struggle with physical closeness.  That, and here's the ASD angle, I think has precipitated some of my son's issues.  When he was in Kindergarten and 1st grade, he obsessively washed his hands.  Before Asperger's was even mentioned, I thought that he could be OCD.  However, he never ritualized this behavior.  It went more along the line of "if I touch anything my hands are dirty"  as opposed to "to get clean, I have to wash X amount of times."  I hope that makes sense. 

I equate it with my feet phobia in this way:  I became so accustomed to stepping on dog mess, that I theorized that it was easier to step in my bare feet to make clean up easier.  Therefore, feet=dirty.  I cleaned them off, but I don't think I ever really felt clean.  I know, logically, that is why I don't like feet.  Feet still equals dirty to me.  I don't maniacally scrub my feet.  I just don't touch 'em.  So, in raising my son, I taught him to be overly cautious about washing his hands and I'm sure that my reactions to dirty, icky hands were probably the same as my reaction to dirty, poopy feet.  However, with hands, we have to use them constantly and touch different things, the message to keep them clean rang loud and clear.

Couple that with the concrete thinking of a spectrum disorder and it's a trifecta of crazy!

*As I type this, it seems to me that this would also go along with my inability to lose weight and keep it off.  In the past, when I have lost a significant amount of weight, I have failed to keep it off for any significant length of time.  Could it be that by discounting my feet has helped to foster my disgust in my overall appearance and person?  Logically, I should appreciate my feet and thank the Lord always for the wonderful job they do, but I can't.  I don't feel that way.  I don't appreciate them.  Hmmm.  How interesting, but very sad, huh?

So, for now Life in Elk Meadows can't stand feet.

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