Today my daughter turned 19 months. She is growing so fast I cannot believe it. I am proud to say that her and I are already very close. I know this because she plays with me, wants me to read her books, calls for me at night when she wakes up, and gives me plenty of hugs and kisses. We even have a date night one night a week. I take her to the gym,I run while she is in the stroller, then take her out so she can run. Then we go for a coffee. Well, I have a coffee, she drinks water or juice from her sippy cup.

I am so scared that she is going to get OCD and there is nothing I can do about it.

Today actually felt like a good day. I am trying to keep busy. I am teaching, tutoring in the evenings, I coach hockey on the weekends. I have signed up to be a volunteer, and I am trying to start a support group. The busier I am, the less OCD eats me alive.

But once I get home and analyze the day, it is painfully evident that OCD is still consuming a good portion of my day. Checking license plates, asking people to repeat themselves, obsessing about people being mad at me. I am having more and more trouble leaving the washroom now. I have to rip off 5 plys of toilet paper before I can use it. But I have to do it right. If one of the plys itself has a rip in it, I have to start over. My wife knows this obsession and my therapist told her to watch out for it during my last session. So now I am crumpling it up and hiding it rather than throwing it in the garbabe. Wow. Is that pathetic or what?

And all this time, I keep thinking "what if Lucy gets this"? I couldn't do it. Seeing her go through that agony. Sure, I would understand her and she would get help a lot faster than I did. But,I don't know. My little plum (that's what I call her) means the world to me. Imagining her having to deal with OCD brings me to tears.

It's -40 here, Bed of Roses just came on my iTunes. I guess that's a sign I should go to bed.