Doing a little Facebook stalking perusing a while ago, I saw someone’s bumper sticker that read:
After laughing, I thought, Oh my god, that’s me! And it was not a comforting thought. I thought back to instances ranging from any time from my childhood to the previous day and realized that I, without a doubt, have CDO.
Let me ‘splain. No, there is too much, let me sum up.*
1. When I was a kid, we always had placemats on the table. ‘Cause kids are messy. I wouldn’t start my meal until my plate or bowl was in the *exact* center of the placemat. And the utensils were evenly spaced on either side. (Mini-confession: I still need perfect placement and even spacing when I set the table for holidays.)
2. Until I was about nine years old, my hair was so long that I could sit on it. This meant that my mom was responsible for fashioning it in any number of braid or ponytail styles. BUT (and I’m surprised she didn’t kill me) if I felt that the braid or ponytail was off center (or, if pigtails were uneven), I would take it out and make her start all over again. (Refer back to #1 and realize that I had very exact notions of where the center was – which resulted in, usually, no less than five attempts each hair-styling.)
Now that I think about it, I don’t know why she didn’t make me get my hair cut. When I got it all chopped off, it was all my idea.
3. A slightly different example: I was helping my mom arrange the hors d’oeuvres before Thanksgiving dinner, and she had three different colors of cauliflower to set out with the dip – orange, purple, and white. She asked me to mix the colors in one side of the serving basket, thinking it was a simple task. Oh no. I didn’t want any one color to be over represented or stand out too much. (i.e. Even if I had the same number of each color, but put white on the bottom, then orange or purple would be uber prominent.) So I took little handfuls of each color over and over again – white, orange, purple; white, orange, purple – so that they’d be evenly mixed. My mother watched me, shaking her head, and wondering (out loud) where she’d gone wrong.
YES!
4. Finally, every day at work I take a handful (or five) of peanut M&Ms from their dish by the printer. When I get back to my desk, I separate them by color, and then proceed to eat one color at a time.
Seriously, if this isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is.
*You know what this is from. Think about it…
I am pretty laid back about the organization of most things–you should see my desk.
That being said, if I have a chipped nail or a small stain on my shirt, it bothers me to no end. I want everything on me looking as perfect as possible.
I wish everything on me looked as perfect as possible. Sadly, I’m also the girl that once managed to sit in gum at the office, so I gave up on that wish. There’s NO Tide pen that’s getting that out easily.
It is from the best movie ever!
I can not leave the house until the remote is perfectly centered on the coffee table. It makes me happy knowing things are in order while I am at work.
Excellent movie taste! And I’m glad you understand my need for centering things. At least I’m not alone.
Your mother, clearly, is a saint – or I can use this post as further evidence of my disinclination to spawn.
My mother is a saint. You’re right. When she read this, she made sure to mention all the things I left out. I’m surprised she’s still sane.
My post today hints – note the color pallette part – at just how close to heart this struck. I have always joked that my CDO is just undiagnosed. I have so many symptoms, but I hide them so I can’t disclose them as bravely as you have. Well, maybe after a few Stellas
Stella is truth serum of sorts. Or so I’ve found.
The greatest movie of all time, of course… The Princess Bride.
“Does anybody want a peanut?”
Inconceivable!
I once got a “make your own” salad at the grocery store and had everything the way I wanted it. I took it to the check out. The cashier lady took one look at it and decided it needed to be mixed up better so she shook it violently before she weighed it and rang it up.
I could have killed her with my bare hands.
I see nothing wrong with this. Nothing at all. Who wouldn’t go ape-shit with pencils out of order like that? And did you notice the uneven eraser usage? Criminal.
I don’t consider myself OCD, but that picture DOES bother me. FIX IT!
You definitely brightened my lousy morning. Loved this post – thanks so much!
Just found your blog and got a kick out of this…because I’m the same way.
No OCD here, mine’s part of being autistic. I feel sorry for my father: after my parents divorced when I was eight, he had to learn how to braid hair with me freaking out every few minutes that it wasn’t straight or tight (or equally tight on both sides) enough!
[...] Convinced for years that I have exactly what Liebchen affectionately describes as “CDO,” I love categories and things that fit inside them. And since I’ve become [...]
Your mother is a saint. Caitlin had hair she could sit on til she was 4…. had she possessed your issues, she wouldn’t have lived that long. WHY was her hair so long? She did NOT want it cut. How did we get that resolved? I *finally* thought to ask her WHY NOT? She thought it would hurt. I assured her it would not. We had it cut that same day!!
And Jack – bless his pointed little head – he cannot eat unless all the kitchen cabinet doors are closed. Pretty much as soon as he could crawl, he’d insist I follow him into the kitchen and point at the open cabinet drawers so that I could close them for him.
Not to say that I don’t have my own special set of issues. *snort*
Wow. This is exactly the way I am.
I am OCD about the way I look and the way things are around me.
Even about the way that I act.
From the organizing, to the spacing, to the food.
Everything must be organized by colour, letter, number, and size.
Everything must be in its place.
It’s so nice to have read this.
I am not crazy! There are others like me (: