What bothers me ever since I was a kid is imperfection and disorganization.
Ever since I was a child, I taught myself how to be organized and having everything perfect to me, whether if it’s at home or at school. I get severe anxiety when something of mines is not perfect or exactly how I wanted it to be. Because of this, I had to be sent to the school’s guidance counselor, in which they recommended me to get help. That’s when my child therapist diagnosed me with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).
Despite my childhood diagnosis… I have been denying that I have OCD.
Still, growing up, I get obsessed with organizing everything, from labeling my notebooks to making sure that my handwriting is neat enough to be read by teachers. Back then when CDs were all the rage, I went as far as organizing my CDs alphabetically; if my CD collection is not in alphabetical order, then I would freak out.
I even get anxiety when it comes to school supplies. Whenever I drop something from my desk, I get anxiety. If my pens and pencils are not pointing downwards in their pencil holders, I get anxiety. If I see a dog-eared page in my books I was reading or in my notebooks, I get anxiety. And in middle school when I started using binders for classes, I even get anxiety if the lined papers are not an even amount in between dividers, one per subject. I would even freak out if my binders are ripped or falling apart. That’s how much I get anxiety whenever everything is not perfectly even and organized throughout my school years.
Throughout high school, I was even more organized than I thought. Too organized, people in my classes would say. I had five colored-coded (black-inked, everything I write has to be in black ink) pens that was meant for precisely according to the days of the week I assigned with:
Purple Pen for Monday
Red Pen for Tuesday
Blue Pen for Wednesday
Yellow Pen for Thursday
Green Pen for Friday.
I even refused to let anyone borrow my pens in high school because that would trigger my anxiety if one of my pens was used on the wrong assigned day. I even kept all my papers in accordion folders and I always stacked them neatly; if my papers are not aligned right, then I would freak out at that. I went as far as making sure my handwriting is neat, and if my handwriting is messy, then I would freak out as well.
I’ve been a perfectionist ever since I was little. Everything I have at home and at school growing up has to be exactly how and where I wanted it. If something of mines is in the wrong place, then that’s when the anxiety kicks in. I would even get angry if someone moved something of mines from one place to another place where I couldn’t find it, otherwise my anxiety would kick in. This is why I hate it when people touch my belongings. My books even have to be stocked in bookshelves according to their genres, authors, and sizes. I would freak out if it’s not the way it’s supposed to be, which is why I never let people touch my personal small library or even borrow my books, I worry that they would dog-ear, rip, or write on the pages and that would trigger my anxiety. Even my textbooks have to be neatly aligned according to size order when I stacked them on my desks; one misalignment would trigger my anxiety.
When it comes to having anxiety when something is not perfect or organized to me, it affected my social skills. I refuse to bond with other people out of fear for messing something of mines up. This is another one of the reasons why I became a loner; I just don’t want people touching my belongings. I don’t like it and I never will.
Despite of everything I mentioned here, I have been denying my childhood diagnosis for OCD. I truly don’t believe that I have OCD because I’m not mysophobic, I just want everything exactly how I wanted it and I’m just obsessed with perfection and organized neatness. However, when I got older, I learned that one does not have to have an irrational fear of germs and bacteria and an obsession with cleanliness to be OCD; I learned that’s just an offensive stereotype. OCD is just a general obsession with having everything precisely in order and can cause anxiety if it’s not in right order.
I have been surreptitious about this ever since my diagnosis. I truly don’t want to be judged by students in my schools for being insane and overly anxious over small stuff. I still deny having OCD though, I just simply believe that being organized is something that needs to be performed in daily lives, otherwise everything will be chaotic if something is lost and not found, or for easy access to something is needed instantly. Still, even today, I am obsessed with perfection and organizing, which is one of the required attributes to becoming a successful author. If my writing is not organized, then I would freak out.
I still don’t believe that I’m OCD. I simply believe in becoming a perfectionist in the organizing world.
No one in this entire world is perfect, but this is the kind of imperfection I embrace.