(Love this picture, there all lined up and in order. Ahh, life is good.)

I have OCD.

You have OCD.

We all have OCD.

(Imagine me with my arms and hands in the air as I announce this to the whole world.)

Just kidding.

At least about everyone having OCD. (And about my hands/ arms in the air. I thought it needed some drama there.)

I have it. I admit it. I am not ashamed. But I can tell you that as bad as it use to be, it has mellowed since having kids. There are still some areas I have not and will not get over but I am working on the ones that I can.

I am accepting of the ones that I have changed and the ones I will never change. I guess you could say that I am growing up. Wow, at 35, I am finally growing up. I guess it was bound to happen at some point.

I am more then happy to share, so you can feel normal or like me abnormal. But hey, I love being abnormal. It makes me unique, different — or maybe that is just the excuse I use to be a big goof ball sometimes.

I will start with my weirdness (I know I might get some negativity regarding calling it my weirdness, but it is my way of embracing what makes me, me) that will never change:

  • Touching wood — this means raw wood. If the wood has been painted or stained, no issue. You ask me to touch or hold a piece of wood that is raw, you will see me do it with two fingers touching as little as possible. As in I turn in to a crab and pull out my pincers. If it is too heavy to hold with my pincers, I will pull my shirt down over my hands to hold it or I will find some type of cloth to hold it with.
  • Touching raw meat — yep this means uncooked meat. I am pretty sure that this has to do with the blood and the possibility of bacteria (hey with kids this ends up being a good thing – can’t get them sick). I really mean it when I can I don’t touch meat, I pull put plastic food gloves when I need to. Even this is a bit much for me but sometimes you gots to do what you gots to do. Those sausage balls are not going to make themselves. That meat is not going to divide itself into perfect 1lb portion bags to be put in the freezer.
  • Washing my hands — yep, I do this ALOT. I mean ALOT. We have to have a small stock in Bath and Body Works soap up in this house, cause we, I mean I, go through it fast. But I see no issue with being clean.
  • Touching anything dirty — well this explains itself.

Now for the things I feel I am getting better about:

  • Having anything on my hands — well like I said before having kids made me have to change some of these habits. I have gotten better about having things on my hand (for a little bit) – I can still run to the bathroom or kitchen to do a quick wash. But now that I deal with slobber, drool, dirt, pee, poop, vomit (look I have a 5 year old and a 5 month old – boys) I have to deal. Ahhh.
  • Everything being perfect — I am still working on this one and it maybe that I never change all of it, but maybe parts. The parts where my kids are involved. My house is not in order as it was before they made their arrivals (plus we are at the point of needing a new house – great starter house, but 2 kids and 10 years under our belt says time to move – I just need to win that lottery – it might help if I played). But I have toys everywhere, dishes all over the kitchen – things that need to be done. I have decided that I would rather have time with my kids and worry about those things later. When they get older, they are going to remember the things that we did together not that the sink had dishes in it or there was a spot on the mirror in the bathroom or I forgot to make the bed. —— This year Aden helped us decorate the Christmas tree and as you can see by the pictures below, he liked to group the ornaments. I should ask him if there was a reason for his grouping (my guess is the distraction of the Christmas show on the TV was the reasoning). You will be proud of me, I have not rearranged even though this caused 1/3 of my tree to be sparse on the ornaments.

Who knows maybe over the following years, I get better. But my OCD does not affect my life in a negative way, it just causes me to do things differently then others.

I have accepted it, my friends and family have accepted it. It is a part of me. It is me.

I know there are those who have it worse then I do and those who don’t have it all. I am accepting of all. So even though I make fun of myself, I will never make fun of someone else.

Now me and my weirdness are off to reality.

Thank you,

Marisa

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