A Glimpse

Compulsively obsessive.  Obsessively compulsive.  OCD.  Call it what you will.  I think more of us have tendencies that are compulsive or obsessive and either don't know it or don't want to admit it.  Or maybe that's just what I think to make myself feel normal.  Average.  Like others.  Then again, when I tell my friends some of my little quirks, they're both amazed and amused since they don't necessarily see anything going on.  For example:

• I take an even number of bites for food.  For example, if I have a plate of chicken fingers and fries (see what I mean about needing to change my diet??), I have to take an even number of bites for each individual piece of chicken and/or fry.  Two.  Four.  Whatever it takes to feel centered.  That being said, I don't sit there and count the number of bites I take at each and every meal for each and everything.  It seems to just be a necessary evil when it's a smaller portioned food item - does that even make sense?  Oh well, it does to me.

• Our home has carpet, tile, and hardwood.  Between the master bedroom and the kitchen is the living room.  The bedroom has carpet.  The living room has hardwood.  The kitchen/dinette has tile.  When walking from bedroom to kitchen, I have to take an even number of steps on the hardwood, again to feel centered.  It doesn't matter if I start out on the right or the left foot; I just have to leave the hardwood on the opposite foot that I initially stepped on it with.

• The living room has 4 windows along one wall.  My guess is they're about 2 feet in width.  While taking my even steps from point A to point B, I can only take two steps within each space of the window sill.  Otherwise, I feel off-balance.  And one of the windows has an outlet below it.  I can't step in the space that contains the outlet.  Fun times.

• If I'm out walking in the neighbourhood with the kids (or anywhere with sidewalks), I can step on a crack.  However, the opposite foot has to step on a crack before leaving the sidewalk or else I will not feel centered.  I suppose this one may be slightly more noticeable if I need to shorten or lengthen a stride if the walk is coming to an end.  I don't know.  I've never asked anyone.

This talk of being centered is something I'm not even sure I can describe.  I would be interested to know if others with OCD "issues" know and understand what I'm talking about.  It's almost like it's an itch that has to be scratched or it's just going to become more and more annoying.  Or something like that.

As for actually being diagnosed with OCD, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it was at least partially self-diagnosed.  I spoke with my family practitioner one day and told her some of the stuff listed above (and other stuff that I may list in a later post).  She said "OCD".  I said "okay".  I often wonder if it's a learned behaviour or something that is just ingrained.  My mom was a very clean, tidy, and neat person.  She still is.  My parents' place is always immaculate.  Like eat-off-the-floor immaculate.  Everything-in-its-proper-place immaculate.  I'm jealous to say the least.  I strive to have my place in order and clean.  Now, with a toddler and baby, I've had to let go of the floors.  So long as they *appear* clean, I'm okay.  However, stuff has its place and will be put there, come hell or high water.  Now if only my husband would understand that his wife wouldn't seem so psychotic and put stuff back where he found it, we'd all be a little happier!  Again, another post for another day.  

Anyways, on to my point.  I would say some of my OCD behaviours are learned from my mom.  Yet I wouldn't classify her as OCD in least.  Weird.  Now my oldest son.  He's a typical 2 year old boy.  He can make a mess in the blink of an eye - and does.  But he's always lining things up.  And they have to be just so or he gets frustrated.  Socks.  Books.  His trucks.  I have pictures - maybe I'll post them one day.  And he clearly pays no mind to any mess he's made unless it's drink related.  Let me explain.  He uses Nuby and Munchkin straw cups.  You know, the 100% spill-proof cups that were clearly NEVER tested on toddlers.  Our carpet and sheets and furniture are now victims to daily spills of his drinks coming out of the top of the straw, even if the drink is just sitting there upright and not being touched.  Yeah, gravity doesn't always work as I watch the liquid come up the straw and drip, drop by drop onto whatever surface.  Well, he'll now say "make a mess" if it's on the floor, go to the drawer in the kitchen that has his washcloths for cleaning him up after a meal, say "clean up", and come wipe it up off the floor.  While it warms my heart some, I wonder if this is just how he's hard-wired or if it's learned behaviour.  Sorry, buddy.

Alright.  There's a glimpse into why I titled this blog the way I did.