OCD

Sometimes, I worry I might have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. We all have things we do that we don't like to admit in public. For example, I personally have broken myself of the "picking-your-nose-while-driving-then-wiping-it-on-the-seat" habit, but I see in my morning commute that it is still a popular and widely accepted method of cleaning out one's nostrils. I also know quite a few people that pee in the shower, but it's not the sort of thing one brings up at a dinner party.

But I am talking about more than uncouth, embarrassing personal habits. I am talking about serious, "do I need to be taking Paxil?" moments.

When I was a child, my Mom taught me to dress myself and braid my own hair at a very young age so she didn't have to get me ready. Well, she recently told me that I would actually make her late because of my socks. Yes, my socks. I would pull them both up as far as they could go, then painstakingly either, fold, roll, or scrunch them down, depending on my mood. If I didn't judge the resultant sock height to be EXACTLY even when I was finished, I would start the process over again. I have some vague memories of this, but she tells me the minimum number of times each morning that I would complete this process was three.

That is scary, because three is still my magic number. I check mailboxes, library book and movie return slots all three times after I drop an item, even though just checking once to see if it dropped down would be sufficient. I touch the metal on the pump at the gas station three times to ensure that I've discharged all static electricity. I could go on, but I won't.

My other minor compulsions include checking to see that all the doors are locked at night, nail and toenail maintenance, wiping down the stove (strangely zen), lining up the remotes on the coffee table, and much, much more. Nothing totally in the realm of washing your hands until skin peels off, or not being able to leave rooms unless I flick the light switch exactly 47 times, but still, I worry. Put me in front of Tetris, and my life is over for at least four hours.

A childhood habit I've retained is one learned in interminable hours of Catholic mass. During the ceremony, charged by my parents to remain both still and quiet for an hour, which is like 8 hours in child-time (that's like dog-years), I came up with a preoccupation. I would gently, surreptitiously, flex the muscles in my hands, feet, and behind my elbows and knees, in varying musical patterns. Usually in 4/4, but sometimes in 3/4 (because the pattern would even out after two repetitions), I would create complex, shifting patterns. The worst part was, if service ended in the middle of my routine, I would actually sit and finish it, or feel intensely dissatisfied all day long.

From time to time, when I get bored or anxious, such as in my staff meeting this morning, I fall back into the soothing rhythms of secret muscle flexing. No one can tell. It's my little secret.

Yoga also feeds into this need for symetry. We do each posture two times, and the best part about yoga is they make you cross your awkward hand/thumb/elbow every other time. For example, clasp your hands, right now. Now look down. If you are right-handed, your right thumb is most likely on top. Now try clasping them the other way, with your left thumb on top. Weird, huh? Well, in yoga you do your dominant way one time, and the weaker way the other time. "To bring the body and mind into balance." See, they have this theory that doing that actually strengthens both sides of your brain, and stimulates activity in your corpus callosum, the center responsible for communication between the hemispheres of the brain.

So, I'm thinking symetry is a good thing. I'm just bringing my body and mind into balance. Now just hold on while I go check the mail slot. . .