Disordered world

Disordered world

Anisah, 01:15, +8GMT

This week, I had a conversation with someone.  It went pretty much like this:

I think I have obsessive compulsive disorder.

Do you arrange all your toothbrushes?

I still straighten all my towels.

Do you straighten the bedsheet to perfection?

I use to.  I don't have time now.  But I still order my thoughts and essays.

That night, just as I was about to fall asleep, a thought struck me.  I used to be like that.  In the world of a six-year old, obsessive compulsive disorder was not a concept yet.  I used to arrange my lego blocks, well not Lego^TMbut the lookalikes, by colours and size.  Then I built a hut out of the blocks, each layer arranged by colour.  I used to say hello and goodbye to every furniture in the house(!), not missing a single chair or footstool(!) each time I visit my dad during school holidays.  I have also arranged coloured pencils by length, books by standing height, and shoes on the rack.  Then as primary and secondary schools brought more homework, more co-curricular activities, I just unconsciously stopped all that. 

A week ago, I had a panic attack.  I couldn't walk a straight path from my office door to my desk because students' assignments were piled on the floor.  It was bedlam.  It took me a good two hours to clear the floor area.  I'm sure primary and secondary schools did a lot of good to me, including getting rid of what might have been an obsessive compulsive disorder.  But in the progression (or regression?), I ended up such a disordered person.  They say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.  I have told a few friends on several occassions, "I couldn't clean up (yet) because my project is still ongoing.  In the disorder, I can locate where each item is.  If I were to tidy things up, I wouldn't be able to find anything."

For three days now, I've been straightening my towel on the rack!  I want order, but hopefully, I won't feel the compulsion to arrange my wardrobe by type, length, and colour.  But come to think of it, I do hang my dresses with neck opening all in the same direction, for as long as I could remember.  Which is it: old habits die hard? or, there is light at the end of the tunnel?