You have 'OCD'

I always just sort of smile when people tell me they have OCD. I feign despair for their awful burden. I coo concern over their welfare. I smile particularly because they don't mean they have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. They mean that they are particular and they are not lazy (or maybe they are lazy and just overwhelmed with the idea of cleaning. {Or hell, they could just be dramatic.})

I have OCD. I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. My number is 4. I don't know if everyone who has OCD has a number, but mine is 4. 4 is paramount. Not many people know this, but my most favorite thing in the whole entire world is origami paper. 4 in x 4 in paper. First of all, I love paper. I love books. I love that a leaf has a front and a back and four sides. I love that 2 + 2 = 4. I love that 2 x 2 = 4. I love LOVE multiples of 4. There is symmetry and peace and infinite finiteness in 4...for me.  I like to do things in 4 steps or 4 parts. For me most things have a beginning, rising action, climax and resolution. I can apply this formula to almost anything. I don't like leaving work until I have accomplished 4 things or a multiple of 4 things. If I leave work otherwise, I have an awful day/night/next morning. I have a hard time starting something that takes less than three steps, if I do not have 3 more things to accomplish.

My arch-nemesis is circles.  I cannot look at a row of bubbles without needing a scalding hot shower and taking off a layer of skin. [This is no exaggeration. In my formative years (before my diagnosis) I would use a razor blade to scrap off a layer of skin from my neck and face in order to overcome my disgust with circles {seen in bug eggs, soap bubbles, mold/mildew.}]  

Pi irritates me like nothing has every irritated me before. There is nothing glamorous to a fake number with no conclusion. What misery it must be to be Pi to go on FOREVER; forever tooling around; forever empty. I fucking hate Pi.

I still give myself credit that for the most part, unless you've known me forever, or live with me, you'd have no idea how sick I am. I pride myself on my ability to blend in so well with normal people. I think 'faking it' is a skill. I like to think that smiling at people when they say they have OCD is the high road. I always always always want to ask people who/when/where they were diagnosed, but I know that's a shitty thing to do. I just don't see certain people having their days ruined, by not being able to complete four steps (sometimes literal footsteps) and I don't see some people having that same euphoric and calming feeling from paper.

[Did you like the neat box I just wrote?]