Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Cleaning Like A Madwoman: Homes as Museums


That 1950's ambition of perfectionist, idealized
control is still alive and well in many folks!
LIVING THE O.C.D. LIFE

My mother is very demanding, very controlling, very
obsessed with extremely particular ways of doing
absolutely everything! (And that's every day living!)

But then, there comes the time of the dreaded...VISITATIONS!

Yes, company at my Mother's is the equivalent of a 4-letter
word in my mind.

Now, I'm OCD myself, and I know how frustrating and
all-consuming it can be when you own mind is stuck in
a particular mode of doing things. But it's one thing to
cut yourself slack--it's difficult to have the same relaxed
understanding for someone else's quirks when you're
dealing with them full time.

My mother enters a maddening, uber-concentrated psychosis
of feeling the need to wash, vacuum, store, dust, and rearrange
every single square inch of her home to 'prepare' for guests.

It doesn't matter if they intend to visit for an hour or three
days, she goes into overload. Hundreds of dollars worth of
groceries are bought (when what was there was sufficient,)
extensive plans made for menus and activities, and there is
not a spot of dirt or disorder in the entire place.


Now, if that gives her pleasure, who cares...right? Well, it's
exhausting; she's exhausted-- she even gets sick from worry...
she exhausts me with constantly demanding ridiculous tasks be
performed that are simply overkill. And she's never satisfied;
even if it's clean she feels under scrutiny...inadequate.

It's all really rather sad.

Why would you even have someone come to your home if you
feel the need to perform the Herculean feats of excessive
cleaning? If you can't relax and simply enjoy someone's
company, what is the purpose of having them? (I say "Relax...
enjoy...chill. It's dirty--people live here; Get over it!")

These are simple people...laid back, not in the least demanding
or hyper-critical. Family that she grew up with. Lifelong friends.
I just don't get it. But then, I don't want a museum for a home;
I want a house that is lived in. Not filthy...just normal.

I don't want anyone in my life that I feel that driven to impress.
Hell, I don't want a condition running my life so I'm compelled
to run myself into the ground to maintain some standard that is
too rigid and exacting.

This time around, I was very clear; I said I'd help her clean a
normal level of clean, but I can't and wouldn't do excessive
work that was just unnecessary. If she chooses to affect her 
own health by taking up that perceived slack, so be it. She can
make her own decisions.

I kept from getting drawn into the drama this time around,
but it still saddens me that she is stuck in this cycle. I know,
too, that as bad as this particular compulsivity is for her,
my own very different ones tend to run me. And likewise,
it's hard to see that there's a problem from the inside
looking out.

Once something becomes a pattern, it's so hard to break;
you see it as an aspect of your identity. I may feel her
cleanliness obsession is wasteful, but it's important to
her. The real irony; the people she wants so badly to
impress are always left feeling quite all-at-ease from 
her mania about constant housework, the standard of
clean they see expected, and her constant doting (intended
to take care of their every need--even before they know it
exists!)

Even as I draw a negative slant on the matter, I know I
have picked up a good bit of her eccentricities; manifest-
ing in codependency, obsessing over details, and being
consumed with what others think (though I have made
great strides in countering these problems in recent years.)

I wonder, though; if we all took a moment to make the
effort to relate how our 'incongruent' issues are really
just opposite sides of the same coins, would it teach us?
Would we be able to get the point that we all are messed
up, just in varied forms. Can that uncommon commonality
be enough to bridge the gap?

*************************************************

No comments:

Post a Comment