Obsessive Compulsive Diva

I named my blog Obsessive Compulsive Diva because I am caught up in a futile quest for perfection. I am hesitant to say if I fit the definition of someone with Obsessive Compulsive disorder, but I have an ongoing urge to try and keep my house extremely clean and neat. I also have issues with my appearance, which are a little extreme. I wonder if I have slight Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Other people can say I look great for my age, that I am thin, fit, etc… whatever… but there are things I see in the mirror that make me sick. Since I am a petite woman, I obsess over a belly I want to be as flat as a ironing board. I often forget I am comparing myself to airbrushed images in magazines and the flattering angels of television.

I didn’t know when I was younger that I had Rosacea. It would totally ruin DAYS of my life. If I woke up and my skin was broken out, there’s was a 50/50 chance I would miss school or work and not go anywhere. I scrubbed and bruised my skin, causing even more problems for myself. But that is rare now. Even though I have a sick son at home, I don’t miss a lot of work. My need for organization is useful for 40 hours a week. But at home it is driving me nuts.

I go into work at 9 a.m. I get up two or three hours before I have to leave.  It gives me time to do laundry and a few chores around the house. But sometimes I get caught up in those chores, distracted by one dirty thing after another, until I look up and I am running late. And for some reason, I cannot leave my house without cleaning my bathroom, which I do at least once a day, and making the bed. If I leave dishes in the sink, I actually feel stressed out about it.

For most people that would be enough, but I rarely just sit down and relax after work. I come in around 6:30 p.m. My husband usually has dinner ready, so I eat. It is hard for me to leave dirty dishes sitting in the kitchen, so if he doesn’t get to them, I try to do it. I usually take a warm bath after dinner, and sometimes lie down to read or watch some TV so I can relax. But it doesn’t always work that way.

Sometimes this feeling still hits me later in the evening, like a second wind, when I should be going to bed. Then I find it really hard to just lie down and go to sleep. A basket of laundry seems to taunt me with its incomplete status, as if whispering “you need to put these clothes somewhere!” Crumbs on the counter, fingerprints on the table, a couple of stray cups or water bottles… I see them all like they’re under a spotlight. Sometimes I can’t even finish one thing without starting another, but in the end, somehow, everything gets done. My husband and son are falling asleep and I am feeling the need to vacuum. The clock says I am only going to get 7 hours of sleep if I get to bed RIGHT NOW, but I can’t. The curio cabinet needs dusting!

It’s no wonder I am always tired. In fact, I have laundry to fold right now and it is like a monkey on my back. I wasn’t always like this. I remember a time when I didn’t feel a need to have everything so perfect, but that was a long time ago.

I remember the first time I saw the house my husband lived in with his parents. It was the cleanest house I had ever seen. Like a magazine layout… nothing out of place. I was certain that even the most remote corners were dust-free. I didn’t grow up in a dirty house, but this had a lot of effort behind it. It was immaculate. I knew at that moment I wanted my place to make that kind of impression. And of course, when I got my own place, it began. It was slow, just like any addiction, and aquiring nice things only fed the beast. So now here I am, 20-something years later, and I cannot stand hair in the shower or lint on my clothes or imperfections in my nail polish.

I wonder what’s wrong with me.