The Revolving Door

Good-bye ED, hello OCD. I have an addictive personality it appears. I need to fill a void in my life with something or other that doesn't really do anything to make me a better, more complete person. I've filled it with various EDs, depression (melancholic depression to be specific), and OCD. At the moment it's OCD. How does OCD affect me? I think of it as having three parts. First, there is the part that makes me obsessed with organization. My closet has been color-coded. Everything in my pantry sits at right angles. After somebody takes something out and doesn't put it back right, I have to fix it. I keep papers in neat stacks. Sometimes alphabetized, sometimes by date. I can't decide which I prefer so I spend precious time re-doing them.

I make lists. This complete waste of paper sees me making lists such as what I am going to do for the day, what I am going to do for the rest of my life, my least favorite and favorite foods, or maybe things I would like to buy if money were no object. These lists litter my desk, which drives me crazy, because I must be organized. So I file them, put them in folders, decide that that is ridiculous, throw them away, then start all over again. Lists of the rest of my life are the most dangerous to me. As soon as something threatens my "master plan" I feel that I am spiralling out of control. This leads to my falling back into depression, and ultimately, ED.

Lastly, I have fears. They paralyze me, they terrify me. By and large these fears are totally irrational and I know it. But I still can't stop them and shut them out completely. They hinder me socially, because I fear rejection and because I fear some kind of "contamination." As if other people are carrying some sort of virus. Above all else, I fear winding up alone in life, unloved and uncared for. And it would all be my fault.

OCD is made fun of a lot. I think that it is just about as misunderstood as ED. That is why I can't exactly express my issues openly. People just do not get it. They are too often bewildered by the strangeness of what goes on inside the workings of my mind. So I battle alone essentially, although I would be amiss not acknowledge the support I get from those I know that also fight these issues. Today I feel good and hopeful, so maybe just writing all of this and getting it out is helping. I'm going to find the root of everything one of these days, and when I do, I'm going to kick its ass.

Love, Colette