It’s Sunday afternoon and I am lounging on the end of the bed, watching as the large, bald one stares into her laptop. Yesterday she disappeared for the better part of the day but has otherwise acted predictably.
This week was difficult for me, I experienced a personal setback when an old habit reared its ugly head. It’s been nearly 4 months since I have chewed on the linens, but last night I just couldn’t help myself. I know it makes Michele angry and stressed, but sometimes I just can’t help it.
It all started when I was a kitten, in fact, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel the need to chew on fabric. I tend to be most triggered by the mere sight of the edge of a sheet on a bed. I see the piece of thin, yet sturdy, fabric, and my mouth starts to water. I think of the feeling of biting into it, how it would flex to cover all my teeth, but I wouldn’t quite be able to break through on the first bite. But then I would bite down again, this time getting closer. Eventually, the fabric will tear apart in a way that is so satisfying that I finally feel a release from the pressure of everyday life. Chewing on fabric is my escape. I have no other way.