There is something that affects me everyday, makes me irate and have to focus on an object before I catch my breath. I become rigid and unable to think rationally, gripping my fists tightly until I feel the pang of my nails digging. Then when I find a solution, I become flustered and fixated on seeing it through. When it is done, an overwhelming feeling of relief sets in.
Anything can trigger it. Sometimes the prospect of something not going the way I had originally planned sets me off; a scenario of disorder and chaos would conjure up in my head. I could come home from a fantastic, yet tiring, day out and insist on doing all the washing up, preparing DS’ bottles, load up the washing machine, load up the tumble dryer and tidy up DS’ toys before I can retire to my bed.
This erratic behaviour of mine is not always a drawback; it is merely a segment of my obsessive inclination to organise and plan. I find washing up fun because I get to play Tetris with the dishes, I like writing an itinerary of exactly what we will do on holidays/days out, and DS’ regular four hourly feeds are not a hinderance to me, but help me structure my day accordingly. And before you ask, yes, I am one of those who thrive on writing lists.