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Am I An OCD Candidate?

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OCD is one of those things you hear so much, so often, that you become so familiar with the word that you lose track of the fact that you have no idea what it is.

I stole this from Wikipedia: Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is a chronic mental disorder most commonly characterized by intrusive, repetitive thoughts resulting in compulsive behaviors and mental acts that the person feels driven to perform, according to rules that must be applied rigidly, aimed at preventing some imagined dreaded event. In severe cases, it affects a person’s ability to function in every day activities. The disorder is often debilitating to the sufferer’s quality of life. Also, the psychological self-awareness of the irrationality of the disorder can be painful. For people with severe OCD, it may take several hours a day to carry out the compulsive acts.

Whew! What a relief, although I did feel inclined to read that paragraph six or seven times.

I’ve noticed I perform and like to do certain things in my everyday life. I don’t think you can argue that humans, by nature, are habitual. So it should come to no surprise that we all have a “certain way” of doing things and thus we all have a hint, a sprinkle or smidgen of OCD inside of us.

Here are a few of the little mannerisms I have. When I mow the lawn I put on my “work shoes” with socks. After pulling the socks all the way up, the right leg is folded down to resemble and “ankle sock” while the left leg is merely pushed down like a slob. I do this in tribute to the different hemispheres of the brain and their unique characteristics. When I put on deodorant in the morning, each armpit must get the same amount of strokes, no more no less, even-steven. If one side gets a stroke more I feel as though there is an unbalance. I take a shower the exact same way all the time, shampoo, wash face, then body. I try to step over cracks or places where the floor material changes, (like carpet to tile). Not because of my mother’s back, just ’cause. When I eat a 3 Musketeers Bar, I tap the fluff down between bites. I’m sure I could go on and on, but let’s just stop there before the paddy wagon arrives.

The point is we all have strange little ticks. You might even think I’m a loony, but I bet if you examined your own behavior you’d find a quirk or two hundred. I guess the difference I see in the description of true OCD and my own bizarre nuances is that I’m not driven to do these things. They’re born from boredom and pursued for the same reason. I don’t get upset or violent or even crazy if things don’t happen in a fashion I’m used to, but what if that changes? Who decides when crazy is crazy? Do you have to be a danger to yourself and/or others in order to be off the deep end? Isn’t someone who’s probably fine, but just has a hard time dealing with things and wants to hide or surrender responsibility more sick than someone who really has lost their facilities? It reminds me a pharmaceutical commercial I saw a long time ago about a pill to treat general anxiety. If you don’t have or haven’t experienced general anxiety in your life then you’re probably dead. If you don’t feel anxious before a job interview, giving a speech, asking someone out, etc. there’s something wrong with you and I hope they find that pill soon, (I think it’s called a bullet).

One of my favorite quotes was from a guy people called Fishpond who said, “You know what makes me crazy? Other people telling me I’m crazy.”

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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Written by Ramblin' Rooster

December 9, 2008 at 5:18 am

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