Members of my family, especially my dad, like to razz me about some compulsions I have. They lightheartedly joke that I have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). They really don't mean anything by it, other than to tease me about the importance I put on little things that seem to them, inconsequential. I giggle, as I understand their need to tease. My ability to laugh with them, is the first sign that I really
don't suffer from the disorder. In fact, maybe because I spent so much time as a special education teacher, I realized this is nothing to joke about. OCD can be quite debilitating to true sufferers. The more recent recognition of this disorder and others like it, popularizedthe term giving it a presence in everyday vernacular. Soon, everyone who likes a clean house, has their CD's arranged in alphabetical order (do people still collect CD's?), or arranges things in a certain way, has OCD.
The truth is most humans have some sort of compulsion. We accumulate collectibles, stand in line for the latest version in a book series or movie saga, we order the same exact thing when we visit our favorite restaurants. We're creatures of habit. What makes OCD a disorder is how harmful or disruptive the compulsions are to the everyday lives of the individuals suffering from the disorder. There is a plethora of resources available online and elsewhere if you want to educate yourself. My point here was to talk about my compulsions- habits which if broken make me uncomfortable, and if kept, make me strangely happy or excited.
I've never publicly shared any of this with anyone. In fact, I just shared some of it with my best friend for the first time last month. The biggest compulsion I have, the one that inspired this post, involves my kitchen. I'll save that one for the end. A few of them are more like rituals...
Every morning when I get out of the shower, I put the exact same number of deodorant strokes under each arm. Same on each side, the same everyday. Yes, I count.
I've been told by my dental hygienist that I'm an "aggressive brusher." This confirmation came after years of my husband telling me I take too long to brush my teeth. No, I don't count strokes, I have an electric toothbrush. But I know by the vibrating timer on it, exactly how long I've brushed each quadrant of my mouth before moving to the next.
Like many people, I have a routine in the morning. As soon as I get up, I pee, wash my hands, brush my teeth, in that order. Same when I get out of the shower. I tone and moisturize my face, brush and gel my hair, put on my deodorant, body splash, and perfume. Then I clean my ears. In that order every day. The thing that makes it ritualistic is if I'm distracted (by my husband, son, the phone, doorbell, etc.) my routine gets messed up and I feel completely off track for the morning.
I have certain items placed around my house in various places, candle holders, plants, and other decorative pieces. If one is facing the wrong direction, or is slightly out of place, I notice and fix it. If I can't get to it, I stare at it until I can.
The toilet paper roll must be rolled over. If it's rolling under, even if I'm in someone else's house, I take it out and fix it.
In my house, the edge of an area rug must always be parallel with the natural lines or grooves in the wood planks or tiles on the floor.
After cleaning the flat stovetop when I've been cooking, I can't see streaks in it. I'll "buff" them out repeatedly with a dish towel until it looks like a freshly waxed car.
Every time I go to a bathroom where there are paper towels, I pull exactly 3 to dry my hands. Yes, I count. Every time. Recently, I was in the bathroom at Kohl's and I told myself as soon as I walked in, I would try to take only 2 (conservation- conscious). I took two, dried my hands and then took another. I couldn't help it.
Now that you're starting to think I'm weird, let's talk about my kitchen. There are two places in the kitchen where my compulsions are really obvious. The refrigerator and the pantry. We'll begin with the fridge. Everything bis arranged in like rows. There are two shelves on the door. One holds salad dressings and condiments. Nothing else. The other holds all ethnic condiments and sauces: various Asian cooking sauces, different hot sauces and chili pepper sauce. Dare not place so dig on the wrong shelf. No, I wouldn't flip out, I'd just move it.
The shelves have equally strict guidelines. The top shelf houses pickled items to the right; my family eats a lot of pickles, olives, pickled tomatoes and peppers. Down the middle, you will find salsa, humus, and other prepared dips from the store. Right now you would see my son's new favorite, buffalo chicken dip. You might also find leftovers from dinner, or leftover ingredients such as chopped onions or chicken broth which are always down the middle, on either of the three shelves. The dairy products are housed to the left. Sour cream, butter, whipped cream. Straddling the left and middle this week is tzaziki sauce from the Greek chicken meal I made for dinner the other night. That can go dairy to the left, or dip down the middle.
The second shelf which includes the deli drawer on the left, always has the same thing. Up against the far right wall of he fridge, there is always a box of cookies. Whatever the current flavor profile, it usually has chocolate, thus a regular spot in the cold. Right now, I'm guessing the remainder of some sort of Girl Scout cookie. In the center column there will always be individual cups, yogurt, apple sauce, pudding, jello. This spot is always reserved for quick grab, lunch box type items. Guarding the left of the cups, up against the deli drawer (not so close that it won't open without disrupting fridge mojo), are canned beverages. Sometimes soda,other times sparkling water.
Finally, at the bottom, you will find the tallest and heaviest items. Bottles of orange juice, milk, iced tea, spaghetti sauce. They each have a column based on category and use. Sauces are toward the back because they aren't used everyday. Buttermilk, used only periodically for cooking is lined behind 2% milk, which gets used daily for coffee and often, cereal. Of course the produce drawer contains none other than fruits and vegetables.
But what inspired this post, is the current state of my fridge (and pantry). Yes, it's organized somewhat compulsively, but there's another layer to this whole thing. I love the way it looks as it empties out. I get a sense of satisfaction that we've "used up" the food in there. I like the way it feels as it empties out. You may not sense it from this photo, but there isn't much in there right now, comparatively speaking. Notice the produce drawers. At the start of the week, there is no white space in there. You can't see the back of the refrigerator, because it's filled with fresh vegetables. That bottom shelf is usually filled with bottles of Gatorade, stacks of protein to be cooked for dinner throughout the week, and fresh fruit. But I love when I can look in my fridge and see that we've used what we bought. I love the absence of take out containers, indicating that we've waited for the weekend to go out because we had a house full of food. I love that the Gatorade and water are gone because my son went to swim practice everyday and needed to stay hydrated. But mostly, I love that it's emptied out. Why? Because today or tomorrow I'll go back to Publix. I'll come home, unload my groceries, and fill the fridge right back up in rows and columns of order goodness. Does that make me sick?
I have the same feeling as my pantry gets emptied out. Also arranged in organized rows, oils in one, various types of vinegars in another, canned ingredients such as diced tomatoes and beans in yet another, followed by canned soups, and a supply of salad dressings and marinades stocked up from a BOGO at Publix. Throughout the fall and winter, this pantry is stocked to the top of the shelf and all the way to the back for winter and holiday cooking. Today, much of it is flushed out and used, a sign that summer months are here and fresh ingredients are abound. Again, I love the feeling.
If you think I organized just for these photos, talk to my family members who look forward to my visits so I can organize their refrigerators.
I'm not sure what all of this means. My armchair self- psychoanalysis tells me that it's a way of achieving order in my life. These are simple things I can control. Not everything in my house is organized like this, but my kitchen, yes. It may have something to do with the food thing too. I've struggled with my weight my entire life, but that is another story altogether. But here I am. Another part of my life exposed, a very strange and fragile part of me. What makes my compulsions non-disorder-ly, is that I don't have a meltdown if something gets out of order, I don't flip out on my family if something is put away improperly. I simply get agitated, and then I fix it. When things are in order, I feel better. Shouldn't making yourself happy be a compulsion for everyone?
