♪♫ Oh, oh, oh, oh OCD and Me ♫ ♪

This post should be fun.........or torturous. We'll see.

This is a hard topic for me to write about, but I figure I have been writing about a lot of personal, difficult topics lately, so why stop now.

O.C.D.(or Obsessive compulsive disorder for those of you lucky enough to not know what it is) has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Of course I had no clue what it was, or that it had a name, I just knew I was "different". I didn't talk about it, to anyone. I was afraid that they would.....well at that age I didn't really know what they would do, but I knew it wouldn't be good. Now that I'm older my mom refers to it as being very particular about my stuff, I think we can all agree that I am just this side of nucking futs, but who am I to say.

So for years I hid my "particularness" as best I could, I spent a lot of time in my room reading or coloring. Coloring and drawing was good because it gave me something to focus on. Though I must admit, spending an hour mulling over just exactly what shade the grass should be sometimes felt extreme even to me. Just because you know your odd, doesn't necessarily mean you can help it though, I tried. I still color, and I have found other ways of keeping my "quirkiness" to a minimum. My main source of calm comes from a bit of textured ribbon, it calms me in a way that really nothing else ever has. It may sound stupid but I really think my little ribbon pieces save lives, mainly the lives of the idiots who take up space around me. I realized when I was about five that rubbing the tag on one of my stuffed animals helped me sleep, it helped me deal when people touched my stuff. I am not a touch my stuff type of person I guess, imagine how well that went over in my marriage, lol. When I was older and had an income I would go buy this stuff by the spool, cut off bits, use it until it was threadbare and worn, pitch it and cut more. And that's how it's been, forever. Most people don't notice it, I mean it's not like I hide it, but I don't broadcast it either (until today, of course). I get that uncomfortable "how do I explain this" feeling when people do happen to notice it, but hey, a girls got to do what a girls got to do. I'm thirty years old and I carry a "security blanket" that just so happens to fit in my pocket, there are at least two on my person at any given time. If I'm going out of town that number jumps to five or seven, you can never be too careful with the anti-crazy devices, you know, might lose one. It's happened, it sucked, and I learned my lesson.

Over the years I have calmed a bit. When I was little I wouldn't use anyone else's bathroom but the one in my home (back to the whole I like my stuff thing), I'm talking I would go days. Now I carry wet wipes and disinfectant. I never touched door handles, do you have any idea how many people don't wash their hands after the restroom, gross!! I still prefer to not touch them, but if I don't have a sleeve to pull over my hand, I don't have a conniption anymore, which is progress. I still don't really go to places like blockbuster often, my O.C.D. is linear as well as germaphobic, and whatever else. I could spend days hours in blockbuster rearranging shelves.  There are always movies out of place, and if there is a row of seven, and there are nine dvd's, the two oddies should be on the far sides of the row, right? I can't be the only one who thinks that. My glasses are the same, if there is an oddball it goes in the middle, it has to match. My dvd's are in a specific order, my order, and if you are brave enough to come and take one while I am not around it better damn well be put back exactly where you found it.

There is a point to all this, though I think I forgot what it actually was about two paragraphs back. Ah, here we are...My room is a fracking mess right now! I love La-la more than life, I had no idea how much a child would push the OCD buttons. Her stuff is EVERYWHERE! I can't keep up. The never-ending laundry, the toys that have taken over the house, and my room in particular. I don't understand how you ladies do it. I really don't. Do you have a cleaning fairy that comes and pitches in? Did I miss it when they were assigning them? Can I borrow yours? Maybe mine lost my address, or maybe she's like Santa and only visits the good boys and girls, in which case I'm screwed.

I can't handle the mess, I can't think. If my bed isn't made in the morning it fubars the entire day. Let me tell you, making the bed is supremely difficult when you have a sleeping toddler splayed out on it like she owns the place, because she is teething and won't sleep the night in her own bed. Even the powers of the mighty ribbon are no match for my kid.  She's got skills. I am seriously to the point that very soon I will be either selling everything, or hiring a dumpster to come haul it all off.

But seriously can I please borrow somebodies laundry fairy, I promise to have her back in a year week or so, promise. :-D


Trying to keep my head above water, or clothes in this case,