First of all I am by no means a medical professional. What follows is my own personal account and experiences.
At long last it’s been confirmed that OCD or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is in fact genetic.
And here I’ve thought all these years that was learned behaviour.
Either way, I’ve accepted that there are things in life that I will always obsess about.
And that’s okay.
I know for a fact that I got a few OCD genes from my father. It was he who would insist that upon leaving the house we should check the curling iron, the blow dryer, stove, oven and toaster to make sure that they were all indeed off and unplugged.
As a teenager, I remember trying to leave the house and checking the doorknob three, four, five times just to be sure that it was locked.
The sound of a locked door knob as it jiggled under pressure from my hand is very familiar to me.
It’s the same jiggly doorknob sound that I heard my father make every time he left for work.
Further, it’s the same jiggly doorknob that my own grown daughter makes when she leaves my house to go home.
When I was young, there was no word for obsessive-compulsive disorder other than “crazy.”
And yes, I felt crazy.
It’s interesting how people are only now after all this time becoming comfortable enough with their own OCD experiences and talking about how they’ve adapted themselves to living with it.
Not long ago, I listened to a radio announcer from a prominent Toronto rock station admit that each evening before leaving work he took a picture of his sound equipment and control settings with his cell phone. That way, he needed only refer to the picture he took at work when he began to second guess himself.
Personally, I think that is a great idea.
Now, I allow myself to obsess over the appliances for only 30 seconds to make sure everything has been turned off and unplugged.
After that, I tell my OCD to take a hike and kindly lock it’s own door on the way out.