The girl who never throw anything away.

While doing my research for my degree show...as I have finally made up my mind what to do...I am SHOCK to realise I might be suffering from OCD...while you thought people who suffer from OCD are people who keep washing their hands...well...this...I mean me...is an example of OCD actually....read the below...and you will noe what i mean...


From : http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1282/is_5_53/ai_72007030



"The words "new neurosis" are oxymoronic because the tics and twitches of humankind are eternal. They are also universal, so imagine my joy on finding a twofer: a virgin forest of deadly nightshade with a signpost reading "Only in America."
It's so new they don't even have a name for it yet. Calling it "collecting" or "hoarding," as two recent newspaper features did, is a pathetic understatement. The world has always had collectors --- John Fowles wrote a bestselling novel about one --- and there are so many people who never throw anything out that they long ago acquired a name: pacPsychologists who have begun studying call it "OCD," for "obsessive- compulsive disorder," but that pales beside the behavior involved, which is to "disorder" as Bill Clinton is to "fib." Yes, this really is a new neurosis, and so American that the best way to describe it is to lapse into the literary style of Helen Gurley Brown. It's about people who never throw anything out, who save everything, no matter how icky- sticky-poo-poo it is, until somebody calls the Health Department!!!
To call such people slobs is to miss the point. Slobs might be messy but they also have a social life, so that when a big date is looming they pull themselves together and neaten up. OCDs, on the other hand, don't have to worry about what people will think because nobody can get in the house, including firemen.
Open the front door and you risk being buried under a landslide of old newspapers. The house is literally packed to the rafters with a mountain range of stuff that normal people throw out. The OCD navigates around it by a series of narrow cleared paths, like the trenches of World War I, past old Christmas trees, stacks of unopened junk mail, empty blister packs that once held baloney and batteries, used printer ribbons (and predating them, used typewriter ribbons), hundreds of expired grocery coupons, plastic forks that come with take-out food, TV-dinner trays, margarine tubs, pieces of broken dishes, burned-out light bulbs, and in some extreme cases, old cigarette butts, used paper napkins, and even used toilet paper.
It's shaping up into a great little mental-health crisis, complete with the usual exculpatory language. It is estimated that OCD afflicts some 2 million Americans, undoubtedly of all races and creeds, but this figure is probably low because OCD is, of course, underreported. Its victims almost never seek treatment, naturally, so only about 5 percent come to light, usually through health violations or eviction.
The problem, needless to say, goes back to their childhoods; most lived in a home with a hoarder and learned bad choices. OCD can be treated, but not with force, like the man who rented an industrial Dumpster and backed it up to his mother's door. Nor does it do any good to offer to help them clear out the mess because they have to reread all the expired coupons. They might also start "churning"-the psychologists' term for moving their detritus from one pile to another to fake tossing it out.
Treatment consists of a long, slow program in which the threatening subject of throwing things away is never mentioned. Instead the facilitator emphasizes the importance of understanding their motivations, taking them on visits to dumps and yard sales, guiding them through a series of mental exercises until they lose their fear of making decisions and develop what will no doubt be called "discarding skills." At the end they mark their successes with little signs reading "This is a flat, clear surface."
But they still won't understand themselves and consequently will slide back into chaos because neither they nor their earnest facilitators will admit that America is the root cause of their behavior:
1. Nowadays, being ready and willing to make a decision about anything is all it takes to be called "judgmental."
2. There's a name for thinking that a torn dishrag is worth keeping. It's called "equality."
3. When the word "inclusion" is rammed home in every public statement, some people will develop a warped need to see how much they can include. OCDs are merely insuring that no blister pack is left behind.
4. They harbor a repressed, politically incorrect lust for revenge on the criminal class and OCD is an acceptable form of emotional displacement: They know that if a rapist managed somehow to get inside their houses, he would be suffocated in a barrel of plastic bags or impaled on a splintered mop handle.
Articles about OCD fill me with hungry glee because I have the opposite neurosis: obsessive-compulsive spartanism (OCS). So does one of my favorite novelists, Kathleen Winsor, who described our common persuasion to perfection:
What a relief it was to have anything done, finished, over with for good. So you could throw it out of your life and forget it and go on to something new. Some of her happiest moments had been spent cleaning out closets or drawers, throwing things away, knowing that whatever the symbolism they had had for her, she was destroying it. Each time she finished with something or someone and knew that she had finished forever, it gave her in some sense the illusion of having been granted a new beginning to life."
Whether it be possessions or people, my motto is "The more there is, the more there is." I ache to hang a "This is a flat, clear surface" sign on the whole world. Give me a box of big green garbage bags and a baling hook and I'm one happy misanthrope. Now that I've donated nearly all of my literary papers, my surroundings are acquiring that impersonal emptiness I've always craved. But it's still not enough, so I've decided to start my own disorderly-house consultation service for OCDs. It won't interfere with my writing; in fact, it will help it by keeping my name in front of the public via my website: www.letmeatyourFKinghouse.com.k-rats."


Well...you see what I mean?....Those scenerios that I have just highlighted....is MY ROOM IN SINGAPORE... and...almost my room in glasgow.

Well at least i understand why my room is health hazardous....becos fireman cannot enter....ah....
I shall remove all the junk from my room to my studio before the morning of friday the 13th...I promise....probably gonna live in my studio from now on....

ANd....i wONDer...if I sHould Seek heLP......maybe I am really sick.

SCARE ME!

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