OCD - A Case History – Self Help in Extreme Cases

Did I tell you about my fascination with order and sets and balance?

Oh, did I? Of course I must have.

Did I ever tell you the awful tale of how I lied (manipulated the truth, actually) because it was imperative that I should make up the numbers in a set of Dragon Bread and Butter Knives? Did I? Are you sure?

And how the gods of Balance and Order punished me in the cruellest manner because, as a result, I ended up with thirteen Dragon Bread and Butter Knives? ?

Oh well, I must have… It involved a person at IKEA… name of Denzel… Oh I did tell you, did I?

Well, I didn’t tell you about the mini Ecuadorian Agents of the NHS who…

Did I? Oh! Are you positive? How they stole one of every… Oh dear. I seem to have told you most of this gory tale. You’re sure it wasn’t someone else who…

Well let me see… Did I tell you about the wicked Eastern European?

No?

Then I will start. Are you sitting comfortably?

If you remember, I found myself, through no fault of my own, the owner of a couple of draws stacked with a disparate number of Cutlery and Flatware in the Dragon (IKEA) range.

They were not disparate in quality, size or design; something I adore; they were disparate in their numbers. Where there should have been sets of twelve, there were elevens or thirteen or seventeen (in the case of Dinner Knives), and where there should have been pairs, in one instance there was only one single Butter Knife.

Any sane and rational person would have been horrified by this situation, and I, being a particularly sane and rational individual, was particularly horrified. It is a natural progression.

Imagine being in a well ordered kitchen, knowing that there are, in one cupboard; safely behind its door, on the bottom shelf; eighteen white, 365 Range coffee mugs, standing upside down (or as I prefer to refer to it, “The right way up”); each turned so that the handles are pointing towards the left at a nice angle of 30⁰. The eighteen mugs in rows three deep and six wide.

Above that in equally neat rows; six white 365 Range large Breakfast Cups and white 365 Range large Breakfast Saucers. And beside them: six white 365 Espresso cups, also in neat rows with their handles pointing towards the left at a nice angle of 30⁰.

And above that two IKEA white china containers for vinegar or salad dressing and two large IKEA square flower vases and two small IKEA square flower vases.

Can you see my point? I know that they are there and that is the way things should be. I can open my cupboard doors any time of the day or night (and I’ve done so quite often) and there they are; waiting to greet me. The only time the full compliment is not there, is when they are in the dishwasher… and I can assure you that I arrange them in there as carefully as if they were in the cupboard.

My whole kitchen is a hymn to order… There’s a place for everything, and everything is in its place.

 So now you know what absolute shame I experienced when I opened the cutlery drawer, to find the Dragon cutlery and flatware in uneven numbers.  No matter how many times I took them out, counted them and laid them back neatly, I knew that the awful truth could not be escaped… they were uneven in number.  This was an affront to the whole ethos of balance.

I told you about Paulina didn’t I?  I don’t mind telling you again, if you would like… No?

Oh well.  Briefly (allow me this), Paulina left my employment as a cleaning lady (before I realised that she was really a plant, sent to destroy my equilibrium) and for a while I didn’t have a cleaning lady.  I don’t need a cleaning lady to clean the kitchen, because there is nothing I enjoy more than making sure everything is in its… You know!  And it’s fun to count cutlery and china and put them in the dishwasher and take them out and put them away neatly and… In fact, it’s really very necessary. But other parts of the house need to be dusted and mopped and whatever and that isn’t so much fun.  By serendipity (or so I thought) a friend of mine had an acquaintance who was coming to London for work, and didn’t have anywhere to live.  This person was from somewhere in Eastern Europe and my friend maintained that although she was a chef, she would be very useful as a cleaning lady, and could she stay in my spare room?  It seemed a good idea.  I would let her stay and she could be my cleaning lady till she found a more permanent address and that would give me a breathing space after the Dreadful Paulina and her mini Agents Provocateur. 

 Did I tell you about the mini Spanish speaking Agents Provocateur?  Did I? I did? OK. Then I’ll continue

As soon as I saw her I had misgivings.  There was something that reminded me of the little Spanish speaking agents provocateur.  She wasn’t minute; she was small.  She didn’t speak Spanish; she spoke Polish.  But regardless, she unnerved me somewhat, but I thought I would give her a try… after all this is the EU and we have to be nice to each other.

She may have been small, but I have never seen anybody eat so much.  She lived on coffee and snacks, but she seemed to make it her aim in life to drink all my coffee and use all of my creamer and ladle unlimited spoonsful of my sugar into that coffee.

Nibble, nibble, nibble.  Slurp, slurp, slurp.

And where anyone got the idea that she came from Poland, I do not know.  As far as I know, Poland is in Eastern Europe, and Eastern Europe tends to have a climate a little warmer than the UK in the Summer and a little colder than the UK in the Winter.

She brought an industrial heater into her room, and her room became like a furnace, or the tropics or something even hotter.  Is there anything hotter than the tropics or a furnace?  Yes.  Her room became as hot as a McDonald’s Fruit Pie and she powered her industrial heater at my expense; refusing to pay for the electricity.

So I give you the scene… Every time I came into the kitchen to ponder over my cutlery or flatware; there she would be guzzling coffee and adding another spoon or two of sugar to that coffee.

Every time I passed her on the way to sort and count my flatware and cutlery; there she would be, nibbling, nibbling, slurping, nibbling.

And all night and all day she was in and out of the lavatory (coffee is a stimulant and a diuretic).  Nibble! Slurp! Flush! Slurp! Flush!

She had to go. 

I told her so.

When I discovered what she had done I almost cried out in agony… actually I did cry out in agony; for when I opened the Cutlery drawer on the day after her departure, my eyes took in a field of carnage much worse than that scene in ‘Gone with the Wind’ when Scarlett O’Hara and Doctor Meade walk through the thousands of dead and dying Confederate Soldiers laid out in the open air after the Battle of Atlanta:

For, where there had formally been seventeen Table Knives, there now were an unknown number.

For where there had formally been eleven Table Forks, there now were an unknown number.

For where there had formally been eleven Pudding Spoons (also useful as Soup Spoons), there now were an unknown number.

I felt that not only my drawer, but also I, myself had been raped, pillaged, violated, assaulted.

I sank to the floor, and with my head between my knees, I started to rock.  I’ve always found that, in moments of stress, that is the best position.  I started to rock; gently and rhythmically; rocking and humming in a low comforting way. 

 I was distraught.  I was beginning to feel as if my life was worthless; without form; without order; useless.

For days I would go into the kitchen and open the drawer to take out a knife or a fork or whatever, and I would feel tears springing to my eyes.

But I am made of sterner stuff, and eventually I said to myself, “What would Machiavelli do in a situation such as this; a hideous, almost insurmountable situation like this?”  I like Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli.  I never met him, but he had an answer to most things.  And then one magical day, it hit me.  I knew what I would do.  Divide and rule?  No!  Start again?  No!

I had a plan and it was so simple that I almost danced for joy… well, I did skip a little.

I got into my car (and you will marvel at the simplicity of this scheme) and I drove to IKEA.

I walked straight to the cutlery section, walking past the rows and rows of 365 white Coffee Mugs; every one of them, smiling and standing up so pure and white and beautiful; every one of them trying to catch my eye, and smiling in that winning way that they have. But I was on a mission; their little pleas hardly reached my hardened heart, whereas formerly they would have torn it to shreds. I just walked by and gave them a reassuring smile, to let them know that I would return, but later.

At the cutlery section I reached up and grasped a cardboard box. Above the box, and above perhaps a hundred other identical boxes, lying side by side in neat rows, a banner proclaimed:

DRAGON - 24-piece cutlery set

Features & Benefits:

Designer:

Carl-Gustaf Jahnsson £14.99

Useful Information:

Comprises: Fork, knife, spoon and teaspoon, 6 of each.

Care Instructions:

Dishwasher-safe.

So I bought the box and brought it home. Of course I did. And I laid the six new Dragon Dinner Knives, the six new Dragon Dinner Forks, the six new Dragon Pudding Spoons (also useful as Soup Spoons) and the six new Dragon Teaspoons in the drawer. And would you believe it of me? (and I think you know me now):I closed the drawer. I closed the drawer and I walked away.

And believe it or not I have not once been tempted to count the cutlery and the flatware. Of course I lay them in neatly all pointing the same way. And I say good morning to them and make sure they’ve had a comfortable night. But, as yet, I have not counted them.

I’m cured.

Within these very helpful hubs one may find a self-help manual, a case history and an ongoing description of one particular sufferer.

For ease of understanding and efficacy of providing help to the afflicted, it would be best to read the articles in order of publication.

1. Have you read the first hub Having OCD Is Not Always Fun on this debilitating condition? Well, have you?

If you haven't, I suggest you go to it straight away. There's no point in starting half way... especially if you have OCD. You don't need to be told that, do you?

Well, go on. Don't waste your time.

2. Have you read the second hub Having OCD is Still Not Much Fun on this debilitating condition?

Now you are almost finished, but there is no point in getting off your metaphorical horse mid-metaphorical-stream, now is there? You are almost cured… or you should be.

Go on, read Having OCD is Still Not Much Fun. It won’t take long, and you won’t regret it.

3. This. the next hub is very reassuring and it’s well worth another read. Have a good look at it and see what you think, at: OCD May be Debilitating But Is There a Cure?

4. Go on. Read it again.

If you have got this far, you are almost finished. Are you sitting comfortably, or would you like to go and have a coffee and a sticky bun? And perhaps spend about ten minutes trying to decide which spoon to use and what cup to use, in case it feels as if it is being left out. I know how this feels. I start to make a coffee and when I open the cupboard door, there are eighteen identical coffee mugs looking at me; begging to be turned so that their handles are all 45 degrees to the left.

When you get back here, have a look at OCD - A Case History – Self Help in Extreme Cases the fourth and final hub.