I first tried meditation when I was around 8. My mom brought me to a meditation guru who assigned me a mantra. What's a mantra, you ask? He advised it was a word to focus on while meditating. It was meant just for me but in the spirit of challenging magical thinking, I'll let you in on the secret: eng. The sound "eng" said in a slow and ceremonial way. I didn't like meditating. But I did it for my mom. I was a responsible child. My mom tells me stories of how I'd unpack my backpack upon returning from school to get started on my assignments. Never once did she have to ask whether my homework was completed. It was done before dinner. I meditated as the responsible 8-year-old I was but I hated when she meditated. When she meditated when I had friends over, that is. If my friends and I had to maneuver through our home, it often involved walking by my meditating mother. I felt mortified that they would get a glimpse of her in an upright, stoic position, ey...
I have OCD. It's not a quirk. It's a legitimate disorder. It has nothing to do with finding pleasure in items being lined up perfectly or enjoying a neat and tidy home. Walk with me. I'll show you what it's actually about.