When I talk about being obsessive, people tend to jump to the conclusion I mean Obsessive-compulsive (OCD) and quickly correct them. Recently, I started to reevaluate whether I am OCD or not, because the more I obsess over it, the more the lines become blurred.
The photograph above shows my obsessive collection of the center cardboard from every toilet paper roll I’ve used since I moved here almost 3 years ago. It is an OCD style ritual, but I don’t need them to be in any straight order. I think its possible my brain is rebelling against OCD in an ironic way.
Like all mental illness, every brain is different and the diagnosis comes from somebody who just counts enough symptoms to say yes.
I am more obsessed over things in my brain than the TV style that needs me to touch the doorknob 4 times before I leave, but I do suffer the internal agitation when I am forced to skip one if my rituals in much the same way.
As a simple example, if the fabric chain Fabricland is seen or mentioned, I must sing its jingle. It’s a simple enough routine a lot if people share, but inside my brain, I’ll actually be bothered fir quite some time if I don’t. Even as I write this, I am almost obligated to sing it.
FAAA BRICK LAND, Fabricland!
There are many other little rituals I follow in my daily life that I did not even notice until a friend told me I was OCD.
I’m not OCD I barked. I’m just obsessive!
Then again, I remember when my very first therapist told me; A.D.D isn’t your problem Jeff , you’re obsessive.
It sure surprised me, until I had some time to obsess over how obsessive I actually am.