To the uninitiated, these represent childhood memories of pretend car races. To me, they symbolize the manifestations of a lifelong obsession, a compulsive obsession. At the tender age of 12, my son was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. His rituals involve small, die-cast toys. Mainly cars, but it can also mean tiny motorcycles, airplanes, military [...]
Between my OCD-collector son, and “I-might-need-that” packrat husband, we’re one cardboard box from a Hoarders episode. The only time my home will be spectacularly clean is at my wake.
From an early age our son has been a 'collector.' On any given day, especially when joining me while running errands, I would have to pat him down, removing bits and pieces of debris from his pockets that he had found in parking lots, grocery store aisles, beneath clothing racks. When I'd break down and [...]
Hundreds of college composition books littered her bedroom floor, each filled with her tight, precise handwriting. Every page, every margin overflowing with words. Her words, her stories. She had to get these details written out, to preserve them. Oral traditions faded away, words put to paper were forever. The feel of ink making contact with [...]
The job had taken the whole week, working several hours every night until she finally had her room the way she wanted it. She tried on every stitch of clothing she owned, checking her reflection in her armoire mirror. What items she wanted to keep were rewashed, pressed and hung in her closet or carefully folded and [...]
There's a light at each end of this tunnel, You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again If you'd only try turning around. ~ Anna Nalick, "Breathe." Wreck of the Day. Sony Music BMG, 2005. I try to learn from [...]