I am not naming names, but now I know I’m not the only one. Though our quirks manifest themselves in different ways, the revelation that we share them similarly was like a portal of hope opening up in my soul, letting relief shine in.
I’m not sure why some of us with obsessive compulsive disorder have such a thing for numbers. Maybe we all do. I don’t know. I just thought that I was the only person whose daily life was measured in the endless task of counting and repeating in an attempt to bring a sense of order to my world. I’ve been this way since childhood.
But I wasn’t. And the fact that this person who was near and dear to me before is only that much more so now is one of those little unexpected gifts in life that keep us plugging along, but with maybe more of a song in our hearts than a curse on our lips.
So as I fill my water glass and pour it out.
Fill it up and pour it out.
Fill it again and finally take a drink-
I raise it to her, and to all of us who really aren’t so different after all.