Psychological Disorders

My friend Kathy, who was a fellow psych major with me in college, unlike me, has actually done things like worked in psychiatric hospitals. Through the years, she’s informed me that I come right up to the lines of so many psychological disorders, but I never seem to step over any of them. In other words, I’m almost a bipolar-paranoid-obsessive-compulsive-overachievement-needy-anxious-hypochondriacal-masochistic-antisocial-eating-disordered-alcoholic-borderline personality. Almost, but not quite.

Today (my toes maybe stretching just a wee bit over that paranoid line), I began to wonder if telecommuting is going to induce me to take a couple of “giant steps” (I can picture those long-awaited, happily-exaggerated steps I determinedly took as a child playing “Mother May I?” Since I was inevitably the smallest player, my giant steps were completely unthreatening, equaling two baby steps from most of my rivals) over that obsessive-compulsive line. I really shouldn’t care about this, though, right? I mean, with the popularity of such things as the TV show Monk, I would just be as trendy as the next guy or gal.

Here’s why I was questioning my psychological stability. For reasons that are unimportant, I drove Bob to work this morning (he’s working as a chaplain this summer at a hospital a half hour’s drive from our house). Now that I’m working from home, I’m used to being “at work” between 7:00 and 7:30 every morning. Today, I didn’t sit down at my computer until 8:15 (please don’t remind me that was early back in the days when I commuted to work). I spent a good deal of the morning focused on my panic over how I was going to get through my to-do list before I had to leave at 4:00 to get him.

As every true obsessive-compulsive person should, I make a to-do list every day. I once read in one of the many self-help books that used to be an addiction before I discovered worry, alcohol, and Ambien, to-do lists should consist of no more than six items. I dance right up to that overachievement-needy line, though, and mock from this safe distance, those who can only accomplish six meager tasks a day. My lists typically include a dozen tasks. Guess who only ever completes about half the things on her list each day. Could it be that person whose sneakers are firmly planted at the suicidal line?

The telephone rang while I was happily checking off one of the items on my oh-so-efficiently organized and beautifully-aligned to-do list. How could anyone possibly let the phone ring without checking caller i.d. to see who it is? But wait a minute. It was my home line, not my work line. Can’t check that one. That would mean I wasn’t working. I’ve carefully allotted every second to work-related tasks only. You mean I used to take personal calls when I was at the office? Well, but in those days, it wasn’t so trendy to be OCD, so tracking those seconds wasn’t as important.

11:00 rolled around. I have a set routine now. From 11:00 – 12:00, I work out and take a shower. Couldn’t do it today. No time. But then I started to get antsy. If I don’t work out, my heart might suffer. I might have a heart attack, and then I’d have to miss weeks of work. Okay, I’d cut my 45-minute workout to 30 minutes, sponge bathe, and shower tonight. If I had to, I’d pick up Bob and finish work when we got home.

Bottom line? I finished working at 8:30 tonight. If Bob ever leaves me, I’m giving Monk a call.