Monday, December 7, 2009

I am Not a Doctor

A few days ago, I felt compelled to organize my kitchen pantry. Since I have been home on winter break, I have organized my closet, the refrigerator, the freezer, and the laundry room. Not to mention, I partake in general housekeeping duties on a daily basis, and I also plan on re-evaluating my entire wardrobe. I have come to the conclusion that I am obsessed with order. In fact, I have been using these recent activities of mine as a basis for a self-diagnosis; it is time for me to come to terms with the fact that I may indeed truly have obsessive compulsive disorder. No, I don't have rituals -- okay, I don't have many rituals. I like to refer to my rituals as habits. However, I know that I secretly believe the success of my day depends upon the completion of these "habits."

So, am I truly a sufferer of OCD? Well, my closet needed adjusting , the kitchen called for sprucing up, and the laundry room was begging for a makeover. I am not going to count re-evaluating my wardrobe as an OCD action because I plan on donating the clothes that I no longer want to charity. If my self-diagnosis was a tax form, then the evaluation of my wardrobe would be written off as community service -- but back to the issue of my issues. Why am I so obsessed with cleanliness? Why can I not live in chaos? Wait, maybe that's it. Maybe I seek consistency and exactness in my surroundings because there is no conformity in the events of my life. All the time, I feel overwhelmed with stress. (I am a college student, after all.) It seems that everything is always changing, and plans cannot be created without moments later being broken.

Life is full of surprises -- I hate surprises. I like routine. That is why I endlessly organize and sort; I manage the craziness of life by eliminating all craziness in the tangible aspects of my world. I clean my room instead of pulling out my hair. Normal? probably not. Harmful? not yet. Until my daily life begins to resemble a major leaguer's pre-game routine, chock-full of rituals and charms, then I am going to be okay with my insane desire to be tidy. If cleaning is my escape, then so be it. After all, it could be worse. As for that self-diagnosis, I need to seek a second opinion before I draw any conclusions.

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