I have a secret. OK, if you’ve met me and spent any huge amount of time with me, you already know it: I have OCD. I don’t have a huge case or anything, I don’t need to be on a reality television show and I can leave the house and function with out any huge arrows pointing out the extra bit of freak in me. It was becoming a problem, early last year, and that was the time I broke down and went to a psychiatrist. I was twenty to thirty minutes late to work a day, due to insane little rituals and, as kindhearted as my boss can be, it was getting to be a bit much. I had not realized how closed and constricted I made my days and, as those schedules became uprooted, so did my mental buoys. So bad was my anxiety, I was misdiagnosed as bi-polar by my first doctor and was only correctly diagnosed and given the appropriate coaching and medication when I fired her and went to a new (older) one.
When it comes to shrinks, old school is the way to go, my friends.
I have gotten better with my little things, but one I cannot get away from is lists. Lists or words, words, words… I have notes for everything. I keep track of things in lists on my phones, my computers, little notebooks, stray bits of paper, even the back of found photographs from tat shops. I plan things to hell and have pages and pages of proof to back it up. So, for this photo challenge, I give you a list. One of many.