So, today I wanted to tell you about some of the good parts of being OCD. I was going to tell you all sorts of awesome things about myself. But then my OCD had to chip in, naturally.
OCD: But Penny, don't you remember rule number one?
Me: Don't talk about fight club?
OCD: No, the other one.
Me: Okay, okay. It's "Don't ever tell people somethings wrong with me."
OCD: The other first rule.
Me: You can't have two first rules.
OCD: I make the rules, and I say you can. What's rule number 1B?
Me: Never tell people I'm good at something?
OCD: Bingo.
Me: But I'm not using my real name: people will never know it's really me that's "boasting" about my "amazing" "abilities".
OCD: Doesn't matter.
Me: They could think I'm lying! I could be telling them wildly exaggerated stories, even completely made-up facts about myself.
OCD: Nope.
Me: I'll tell them I have a pet unicorn in my backyard!
OCD: Nice try, but no.
Me: GAH! I'm trying to write a blog, here.
(I've been reading Hyperbole and a Half posts all day, I think it's rubbing off on me. Not necessarily a bad thing, but there goes my "original writing style" for the day.)
Anyway, I'm not sure why, but ever since I was little, I felt like it was an unforgivable sin to tell people I was good at something. I'd always have to down-play it, emphasize flaws and shortcomings, or (usually) just say nothing at all.
Even worse, is people complimenting me. I'm not saying that happens all the time, but when it does, I freak out. For several years, I would find some way to tell people they were wrong.
Person: You sang really well today, Penny!
Me: No, I didn't.
Person: Oh... Okay then...
Me: You clearly don't know anything about singing. Or music. Or performing. Or Italian. Or life in general.
Person: Sorry...?
Me: You're a miserable human being, you know that?
Person: I'm gonna go home, and rethink my life...
But after I started getting into performing (and had a few people get miffed because I insulted their intelligence), I finally just agreed to stiffly accept their compliments, and let it go, hoping they'd just forget about the whole thing.
I hate getting rewards for things, when doing them made me happy. I don't know why, it just doesn't seem fair to get a pat on the back for something I would have done anyway.
Person: You ate ice cream! You're so awesome! Here's five dollars!
Me: Um... Thank you?
I know I'm really weird like that. Most people would love to get paid for doing things that make them happy. And compliments are a form of reward. But I hate them. It's nice to know when I do things well. It's nice to know that people are paying attention, and that they like me. But it's always too much or too little. I have no idea what the right formula is. Exactly how many times do I need someone to tell me I did well, before I get resentful and lock myself in my room until the excitement dies down?
For some reason, I respond better to criticism. I don't mean "you suck, and I hate you, you should go die," kind of criticism. I mean "you know, if you were to think about butterflies while singing that one high part in the chorus, you'd get a clearer sound!" or something like that. I get annoyed when people criticize me, too, but I know that when people are doing it, they care enough about me to help me get better.
And I want to get better. I can't stand not improving. I always need to learn more, have more, be more. So, maybe if someone were to say "you did great! Here's how you can do even better!" that would be the best way to compliment me, and also stay on my good side.
But back to rule number one, section B. Everybody's good at something. Not everybody knows exactly what it is, or maybe it isn't as glamorous monetizable as being able to balance a kitchen table on your nose, but everybody has one.
One. When I meet new people, I have to decide which part of Penny they get to see. Is it Writer Penny? Is it Performer Penny? Or Penny the Chef? Penny the A+ Student? What about Artist Penny? Penny the Mathematician? Penny the Hairdresser? Or something else?
I know that not everybody has only one skill. But usually everyone has one best skill, their favorite part of themselves, the part that they put forth for the whole world, to make themselves more easily defined and shelvable in the Library of Life. But I don't have a best skill. I'm not better at singing or an instrument than I am at writing. I'm not really better at writing than drawing. I never really considered my understanding of food to be an actual skill, but turns out that most people my age either eat cereal, microwaved hot dogs, or just go to McDonald's every other day. My obsessive nature has kept my GPA above 3.7 my entire college career. It's not extraordinary It's simply expected. I was never good at math until that one great teacher my freshman year, but now it all makes sense. And then there's my life-long obsession with hair, which has granted me with the magical ability to cut and style it with relative ease, which apparently not everyone has.
I won't say that whatever level of skill I've gotten in any of these areas simply fell in my lap. I did have to work at it. But it would be too complicated for me to tell people who I am with just one sentence. I guess I could say "well, I like to do a little bit of everything," even though that's not entirely true. I don't know anything about miming, or fishing, or politicianing. I could just say "I'm OCD," but chances are, people will have no idea what that means, so I'll have to direct them to this post, and then my cover will be blown, and I might as well have given you guys my real name.
Point is, I love learning and trying new things (even though new things are pretty scary sometimes), and when I start something new and exciting, my Super OCD Powers kick in, and I excel at it (for a short period of time, anyway). And that's the great part about being OCD: obsessing over stuff is actually a lot of fun (I mean good stuff, like drawing or skiing, not bad stuff, like guilt and imminent failure). It's so exciting to learn things, and grow more aware about the world through it.
I like to tell people I know a little about a lot, and a lot about a little. I've taken classes in math, science, music, acting, writing, drawing, American Sign Language and Spanish, religion, interpreting, even a class about dinosaurs, and I loved every single one of them. I've had jobs in retail, lawn care, food services, tutoring, and hair styling, and no matter what I earned, I enjoyed what I learned about myself and the world more than any monetary gain (although that was pretty nice, too). I'm constantly seeking out more information, connecting dots and making new ideas. It doesn't really matter what it is. In my opinion, there's no such thing as useless information (although pictures of kittens in top hats get pretty close. Sorry, but you know it's true.) Everything's connected to everything else! Math goes into music, music goes into acting, acting goes into interpreting, interpreting goes into tutoring, tutoring goes into math, around and around we go! Drawing goes into science, science goes into writing, writing goes into acting and singing, which then goes into physical fitness, and that improves everything else.
Even with my problems and obstacles, I still have to stop and enjoy how wonderful and vast the world is. Knowing that I could spend my whole life, drinking in knowledge and experiences, and still not know even half of everything the world has to offer is like finding out Christmas is gonna be every day for the rest of your life. I'm serious.
Though I struggle with some pretty deep lows (as I have so over-sharingly explained in previous posts), I have to say that the highs are pretty amazing.
Penny
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