It’s All Fun and Games

Dearest Orchid,

Oh, you think there’s a method to the madness? I notice everything, and sometimes I can let it go, and sometimes I have to say something. The end. That’s my whole thought process pre starting some shit.

The rest of my time is spent proving my point, interrupting because I know what you’re gonna say, trying to keep things from escalating, seething that things escalated and no one understands me, refusing to apologize for feeling what I feel, and sequestering in some room of the house until I’m found. Ta da!

That Sounds…Troublesome

It’s not always like this. Sometimes, it’s more civilized. Here are some scenarios that result in mostly reasonable “argumentative” fireworks:

• We’re discussing a topic I truly care about, and I direct us into spirited discourse

  • Note: this can be mistaken for an argument, but I view it as a healthy debate, filled with points and counterpoints, active perspective-taking, and eventual mutual understanding, if not full agreement

• We’re talking about something totally random, and I catch a phrase or an idea that hooks me, resulting in a hijacking of the original conversation where the new topic takes on a life of its own, blossoming into a full-blown dynamic discussion

  • Note: aforementioned note applies here, as well

• I start a dialogue about some sort of grievance that feels important to bring up, and when the other side engages, I somehow embroil us in a fiery drama

  • Note: this is usually the least friendly version of events and the one most likely to end up with the sequestering

While some may disagree, I find bullets one and two to be part of my charm — I am small, but fierce, and I love a parry-filled parley. Bullet three is where it gets a little murky. Of course, none of the items on the list account for the instinctive arguing that clearly lacks much forethought. And that’s the one that always ends up with the sequestering, probably because its true source is emotion, not logic.

Why Does It Go Awry?

A long time ago, I went to a psychiatrist for one session (how I got there is a short, but complex tale for another time). He listened to me expound on my woes, determined that what I was experiencing was situational and therefore not in need of ongoing medicinal intervention. Before I left, he pulled up a webpage, said he'd send it to me, and suggested that I peruse it on my own time.

The link was for a lengthy article about Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. I’ve reread it several times over the years. The few characteristics that I have in common with the traits of this diagnosis have shifted; most of them have lessened or disappeared altogether. But the anger described still rings true. It can rise up, sharp and swift, when I perceive things going off course, particularly when I have expectations of how things “should” go. When that happens, it’s not a pleasant time to be around me.

Cute, But Scary

If you’re wondering whether the OCPD diagnosis fits me, the answer is very likely no, as I don’t meet the necessary criteria. But it’s a unique lens through which to consider some of my tendencies that seem innocuous but most certainly cause others distress.

If I don’t engage my rage, I’m a mostly measured debate opponent. But rage is very accessible to me, and that scares me. This fear keeps me accountable most of the time, and I cultivate it alongside my acceptance that I might always be more angry than I want to be. We’re all working on something, and this is one of my ongoing projects.

Love,

Aster

P.S. I’ve always been skeptical of the fear of success. Fear should be relegated to bad things, right? Until I noticed myself backing away from things I want. Intentionally slowing down when I should be accelerating. Hiding when I should be greeting the world face first. As my anxiety ran rampant, I suddenly noticed its familiar shape — fear of change wearing sheep’s clothing. Terror of what’s to come, even when it’s good stuff. Hi, hello, how’s it goin’? Been a while, fear of change, my old friend.

What do you fear, and how does it hold you back from your ideal self? Does it always dress the same, or does it masquerade as something else? How do you deal with your fear?

[Currently listening to: Oh My God by Adele. But I really recommend you listen via headphones to this version.]