One obsession I had as a child was that my sister was going to die in her sleep and that it was going to be completely my fault for not checking on her. It would take me ages to get to sleep, because I’d be constantly crawling upstairs, trying to be really quiet, to check on her breathing and pulse. I was convinced that she would die if I didn’t do that. I did all kinds of things to deal with my obsessions, so I’d always be moving my body in strange ways, I’d be repeating thoughts, praying all the time. As I got older, it developed into writing lists. It would be, “I’m a bad person, and I have to write it down”. I had reams of books, full of these lists.