Obsession vs. Addiction
Am I an obsessed writer or am I addicted to writing? I had
to do some research on this one. Let’s see what I discovered.
Obsession – the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea,
image, desire, etc. – Yes, I’m an obsessed writer.
Addiction - the state of being enslaved to a habit or
practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming,
*as writing, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma. YES, I’m addicted to writing!
* I took out, as narcotics, and replaced it with as
writing.
Obsessive
Compulsive Disorder – A disorder characterized by repetitively repeating
actions over and over, compulsively.
Meh!
The phrase obsessive–compulsive has become
part of the English lexicon, and is often used in an informal or caricatured
manner to describe someone who is excessively meticulous, perfectionistic,
absorbed, or otherwise fixated. Although these signs are present in OCD, a
person who exhibits them does not necessarily have OCD, but may instead have
obsessive compulsive personality disorder.
Aha! My discovery led me to believe I am OCPD! OCPD is a chronic non-adaptive pattern of extreme perfectionism, preoccupation with neatness and detail. And
I’m addicted to writing, seeing that when I’m not writing, it seems to cause me
severe mental trauma. Each day I wake, I go to my computer, not to surf through
the web, not to play facebook games, it’s to WRITE.
It has been in my blood since a young age. I began
with pen and paper, journals and notebooks and yes, I have many saved notebooks
cluttering my basement storage bins. It’s funny, I went through my bins a
couple of weeks ago, to see what I managed to bring with me when I left home
ten years ago. Lo and behold, I left with not much more than the clothes on my
back, a few cherished nic-nacs, and loads of books and writings!
Being the sentimental fool that I am, I cried over
the things I didn’t manage to bring with me, but I also cried over the things I
DID manage to bring. I think I’ve told you of the time I left home, my son and
I, for a safer haven away from a mentally abusive relationship. I left all my
once cherished material possessions behind, and moved forward in life, whatever
that entailed.
My writing is the only thing, locked up safely in
my heart and soul that no one could ever get me to leave behind. Instead I dove
in and never looked back. While I have family back home, they all but left me
out here to fend for myself, and I’m okay with that, I had to grow up some
time.
Now what I do with my time and my life is write.
That is the only piece I obsessively control and will never let go of. While
material possessions can always be replaced, what you have inside you can never
be replaced, only crafted and finely tuned.
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