As I watch the craziness in peoples lives around me I’ve decided that I am completely normal.
Normal, me?
I’m not sure what normal is, but until recently if you would have asked me to describe myself in three words normal wouldn’t have been one of them. I’m sure my family wouldn’t agree with my new awareness of normalcy, but what do they know? They aren’t normal.
Maybe normal is different for everyone, but my normal is really just that.
Normal.
How have I come to this new awareness? And why does it matter now? I have better things to obsess about.
Obsessed? Yeah, maybe I do have a little obsessive compulsive disorder, doesn’t everyone? I’m sure if you ask ten people to describe normal, you would get 10 answers. The word “norm” also seems to have this dual use: this can be good or bad.
Now, I’m not admitting to this but, isn’t having OCD a kind of adorable quirk?
It is not new to anyone that I have an obsession with reality TV. But in just a few short weeks I have come to realize that not only can I live with it, but that it has become therapeutic. If it wasn’t for reality TV then I wouldn’t have known how normal I truly am. I’m not ordinary by any means but I am convinced that I can now hold my head up and relish in quirky– my normal.
You would think that I have enough going on in my own life that I wouldn’t have the time to sit, watch and get involved in another reality show, but again, that’s where the OCD comes in.
But if I am going to spend mindless hours involved in other peoples lives then I should get something out of it. I don’t need to see a doctor or take medication, I just spend an hour watching “The OCD Project,” and “Obsessed.”
Finally reality TV that the viewer can relate to; seeing something of themselves. What I have learned is that everyone has a little bit of OCD and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. If you can control it.
The first day of the show all patients must stop their compulsions cold turkey. Anxiety runs high as the group attempts to deal with this–including not being able to take showers or wash hands.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to stop watching then or not, being that my compulsion is reality TV. I decided against it. I’m weak, I need more therapy.
The six people in the show participate in 21 days of immersive therapy called “exposure and response prevention,” with the goal of getting them to face their fears and better their lives.
One of the participates has a fear of contamination and germs, another excessively hand washes and still another checks and re-checks everything. It’s compelling and heartbreaking all at the same time.
I’m not sure if living together serves a major therapeutic function for these struggling people, but it certainly has opened my eyes to what I now know of myself.
Normal is in the eye of the beholder.
“Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Normal.”
“Normal who?”
Second, thought I am not normal. I need more therapy.
