A clear case of OCD

A great thing about living at the ashram is experiencing things I never would have otherwise. Like raking through the huge fire with Eva, our faces covered bankrobber style. Or politely telling an older Indian man that I do not want to watch Youtube videos with him. Or waking up at 5am because of the turkeys.

What is amazing too, is that when we decide it might be a good thing to check on my medication with a psychiatrist, three days later I am sitting in front of her, in the mini clinic a 10 minute drive away.

She seems nice and knowleadgable, until she confesses: I have a mild version of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), and it is my specialism. Now I don’t want to be one of those specialists who sees their specialism everywhere but I really think you have an OCD. You should definitely read up on it. 75% is probably irrelevant for you (controlling behaviors, counting, compulsive handwashing… which all can be very devastating & disruptive), but the rest will surely hit the mark.

And yes I do judge myself, and am sensitive to what others might think, and I don’t do well with criticism and even worse in conflict. I sometimes even straighten out a painting. Still I feel like I have stepped into some cheap American self-help book. I politely sit through her examples and well-meant advice, but in my mind I think: 25% sounds pretty normal to me.

Once she is finished I tell her I don’t see the OCD in me. She seems disappointed. I should really give it some thought. Then she asks whether I ever get depressed without having negative and worrisome thoughts before, and I say yes, I can just wake up feeling bad, no idea where it came from. Hmm. Maybe you are bipolar after all... Fortunately she knows about medication too, and that’s what I came for.

When I leave the clinic I wonder whether I should have said different things in the conversation. Had I been too meek for my $200? Should I have been more persistent? And there in the moment I see it: Thinking back to what I could have done better (Ruminating! Obsessing!) A clear case of OCD.

When I return to my room in the evening, I can barely open the door. And then I remember, I was ‘reorganizing’. Putting stuff in the Boutique. It is great seeing others wear my donations. Amber with the orange scarf, Tanin with the maroon tuque, Penelope in the blue chequered shirt. I casually navigate the chaos to reach my bed. But I cannot sleep: I have to wait until the numbers on my clock line up with the freckles on my skin. And that might take a while. 

Baby Geese!!!