by Deborah Nies

Created on: June 03, 2009

I consider myself a creative person and I have often thought that to be a true artist or a creative soul, a little mental illness is required. (Think Van Gogh.) Additionally, I have always told people that I aspired to live a life in which others would ultimately label me as an eccentric. But, as time passes, I realize that to be called "eccentric," one has to have scads of cash. If you're poor, and a few nuggets shy of a Happy Meal, well, then you're just "weird."

Such was my thought process when I first spied the strange boy at school. He walked by a small circle that was painted on the floor. Then, he stopped abruptly, said, "Oh," turned around and tapped the circle with his toe. "One, two, three, four," and then he continued on his walk down the school's hallway.

Ding, Ding, Ding! The alarm bells tolled loudly in my head. Oh my God. Forty-two years old, and the most illuminating revelation of my life was provided by a fellow sufferer who was only 9 years old. This boy was compelled to tap the circle four times with his toe before he could continue on his journey. It was not a choice. It had to be done, and I thought that I understood why.

I returned from school that day, and immediately googled "Obsessive Compulsive Disorder." I went through the self-diagnosis process. (Don't tell me you haven't done this yourself, dear reader.) "Check, check, check. Yep, that's me." I have OCD.

For as long as I can remember, I have been compelled to do little pointless, inane rituals. I had never really thought about this behavior prior to witnessing the boy's actions. I had accepted them as little foibles that were unique to me. But, on the other hand, I suspected that it wasn't normal, so I never mentioned my tics to my family or friends. I didn't want to seem odder than I already am, nor did I want to be forced to analyze my own behavior.

However, I am now in hyper-alert mode. I frequently notice more and more tasks that I am compelled to do. Sometimes, I have to count things, or I have to read and then reread labels on medicine bottles. Notice the phrase "have to." This is not an option; it is a dire necessity. As an example, the manufacturer's tags on our bathroom towels must be facing outward into the room, and be located on the bottom right hand side of the towel while hanging on the racks. I must repeat the words on the label over and over in my head, "Willow Bay - registered - from Welspun - 100% cotton." Nice towels, but no, I don't get royalties.

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