Obsessions

I actually believed that all the slightly odd things I did growing up, demonstrated my strengths rather than my differences. When I made up a game I played against the wall outside of our house, I believed I was very clever. I was lonely for the company of others, but as the youngest child in my family, often I had to play alone. So, I’d bounce a tennis ball against the painted bricks and count each move carefully, devising a system of rules that I had to stick to or else I had to go all the way back to the beginning. That perfectionism has stayed with me and it isn’t something that has actually helped me. So, if I make even a tiny mistake, like I did when I threw the ball with my right hand or left hand or both hands and forgot to clap or put the ball through my legs or whatever…well I usually go all the way back and redo my initial steps, no matter what progress I’ve made or how close to the end I am. That can not be construed as positive. Although sometimes I can switch gears, I prefer to follow my self-imposed way of getting from A to B. Realizing recently how insane this is, I have tried to moderate my behavior at times. But yesterday my husband made me laugh so much about this that I think finally perhaps I can alter my ways.

We were hanging laundry, something I usually do alone. But my back was playing up so he helped. When I looked up from my last garment now clipped onto the line, I saw his help a little differently than he did. He’d broken the cardinal laws of my clothesline hanging, and put the big sheets where I usually put the pillowcases. I do that because the higher strands of the line hold the sheets up higher and also, I can fit all the pillow slips into one section. That looks better to me than the way he was haphazardly hanging our linens. Then of course there’s the color of the clothespins, what they refer to here as clothes pegs. I coordinate these with the color of the item being hung, as if that’s makes a big difference. But that makes me feel like I’m doing the best (and most artistic job of it) I can do. I apply that to everything I do. When I make a salad, it comes out looking spectacular. The kudos I receive for my fruit platters always reflect the same artistic flair I put into everything. I can hardly place a tablecloth on the table without picking the best one for that day, my mood, the meal, the company or lack of. 

Get the picture? I’ve lost the plot. So, John’s comments had me close to rolling on the ground from laughing so hard (at myself). He’s so glib but he said something about using the wrong hand towel in the bathroom and I exploded with glee. It is all so frigging unimportant in the grand scheme of things, especially now, with the world in a state of chaos.

But I continue being me. The same person who had to count the dots on the acoustic tiles in our den when I was a young teen, without using my fingers to point, only my eyes. Then I had to multiply the length by the width without using a calculator or paper. It had to be done all in my head. So nowadays when I find myself counting the lavender seedheads I’m pruning off the plant, I let myself be. This habit is so ingrained in me. I thought it was proving I was good at math, as I can figure out sums very quickly, but I no longer ascribe to that opinion. I am a bit kooky. I am different from normies and I don’t care about it anymore. All the rules I set up for myself mean very little to John, just as his rules do to me. But on both sides, it’s great for a big laugh. We just shouldn’t take ourselves so seriously.

Personally, I believe that the person we are comes out when we’re very young and we just adapt to it without thinking about it most of the time. And as we age, we experience slightly different versions of this essence. But my awareness of this obsessive and compulsive part of me wakes me out of my stupor at times, especially when John understates just how silly it all is. John actually used to get our dog, Chloe, to herd me into the car when I’d be leaving the house. Hmm. At that time, I didn’t think that was particularly funny or insightful. What did I know? Not much it seems from here.

Gotta go now and organize the spaghetti.