I have arrived

By MARY JANE HOLT
Contributing Writer

I have arrived. It is that simple. I truly have arrived.

In 1968, fresh out of nursing school, my first assignment was the psychiatric ward at the hospital in my hometown. That was when I learned about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Now, please know, up front, I recognize that OCD can be a real problem for some folks. Thankfully, there are medications that now help and therapeutic counseling has come a long way, as well.

So… when I started working on that psychiatric unit, night shift, I was kind of in charge. Yeah, isn’t that scary, fresh out of school, first job and in charge. (Not hardly.)

So, let me get on with my story.

On the unit, there was a large common area, or day room, where patients congregated during the day and evening shifts. When I came on at 11 p.m, most folks were tucked in, or in some cases confined as was the need of the hour.

I was required to make hourly rounds and keep a close check on everybody, straighten and organize the common areas, see that they were cleaned, give morning meds before 7 a.m, and just generally “keep watch.”

No problems with any of that except the common area day room where tables and chairs were mismatched. There were lots of tables. Different colors. Different chairs. And they stayed all mixed up. I could not stand it.

Each night, as soon as I was certain all my charges were down for the count, I headed for that room. I had to match the chairs with the right tables. The chairs had to be tucked in around the tables just so. And those tables had to be arranged “properly.”

It was while I was doing this one night that an associate commented about my “obsessive compulsive behavior.”

I looked it up. I read about it. I studied it. Tendencies, yes, I decided. Disorder, no. That, like so many other tendencies I have, is who I am. I happen to like me and most of my tendencies, so I have continued to want things to match and hang straight and be positioned “properly” over the years.

I must say it has been a bit of a problem at times. I mean in hotel lobbies where framed art can sometimes be as large as a whole room in my home it is not exactly smart to walk over and try to straighten it. I have learned to fight the urge, but the urge is ever with me.

Until… Oh, yes, there is an until. Trouble is I don’t know when “until” happened. I just know it did.

This past Friday night I was having dinner at Mac’s Steak House in Warm Springs. I have eaten there often and I have always noticed that the art does not hang straight. The tables are not level. The mantles look off. Thus it is in old homes that have been converted to delightful eateries. You live with it, right? Even appreciate it and fight the urge to straighten everything because the truth is: you just can’t do it.

So, this time while dining there, I noticed it all again. And you know what? There was no urge to “fix” anything. I just sat there appreciating every unique little characteristic of the room. Amazing, I thought. Is this really me?

Then on Saturday morning I was in my kitchen which is in the center of my home and overlooks the dining area. I was standing at a counter making hamburger patties. Now, there was a time, honest, when no matter what I was doing, if I looked up and saw that the tablecloth was hanging an inch or two lower on one side of the table in my dining area, I would immediately straighten it. I swear. Immediately.

But I finished the patties. Mixed up everything for my chocolate banana ice cream that I planned to make later in the day. Put on a load of laundry. Then, while walking by the table later, I remembered the crooked table cloth and straightened it.

How ‘bout that? Gotta tell you, I’m pretty tickled with myself. Could be that I have finally learned there are things in this world that I cannot straighten and even that which I can fix may not call for the urgency I often have applied to it.

Okay, maybe I have not really “arrived” yet, but I’m getting there.