That’s what Dr. Headshrink told me yesterday anyway.
And I’ve been obsessing about it ever since.
Seriously though – being told that you’re obsessive is not generally something one wants to hear from their shrink. It’s kind of… disturbing. We already know that I have stalker tendencies, and that I’ve convinced myself that I was pregnant when I clearly wasn’t, and that I am far (far) too wordy for my own good.
And now I’m obsessive as well?
That’s a whole bunch of crazy wrapped up with a neat little bow I tell ya!
To be fair, she wasn’t really referring to one instance or situation in particular. She was just pointing out that I tend to obsess. That it’s not unusual for me to set my mind to how I think something should be, and to then fixate on that idea. Focusing on nothing else while I try to manipulate the world around me to look exactly how I want it to.
I obsess. And pick, and twist, and push; all in an attempt to get my way. To achieve the outcome I desire. The one I’ve got my heart set on.
When things don’t go my way, I honestly have a really hard time contemplating why that may be. Such a hard time in fact, that I typically become consumed by the need to understand what it is I may have missed.
Failing to admit defeat and recognize that I just can’t control everything.
People are not mathematical equations and life isn’t like a puzzle where it’s just a matter of finding the right piece to bring everything together.
Sometimes, there just is no right piece.
And that’s when I struggle. When I start to obsess. When I have it in me to become consumed.
Because even now I can admit to you that I am still a person who is of the belief that if you try and work hard enough – you can accomplish anything. I am someone who likes to think that I can achieve any goal I set my mind to. That it just takes finding the right solution. The missing piece that clearly I must have overlooked if things still haven’t worked out my way.
I promised myself that this year I was going to let the baby dream go. That I was going to move forward with my life and trust that no matter what – everything is going to work out in the end. I promised myself that I was going to back away from the heartache of all this and just start focusing on the things in my life that I can control.
And maybe I actually have accomplished that. I can still honestly tell you that I don’t see myself doing IVF ever again. I can admit that my feelings there could possibly change over the next few years, but as of right now – I have no interest in pumping myself full of hormones with no guarantees again.
But... There is still this part of me lingering on the details. Trying to figure out what went wrong. Where it was that I failed. Why it is that people can get pregnant every day without trying, but that I can’t. Not even when I try my hardest. Not even when I do everything right.
I obsess. Picking at the last year and trying to figure out what happened. What I missed. Why it all turned out so differently than I had originally imagined.
And now, in the absence of baby making to focus on, I am finding myself fixating on other areas of life. Suddenly determined to lose weight and get in shape. To put money away and pay off all my debts as soon as possible. To pack my bags and get out of the country.
To run away.
Since coming to the travel conclusion over the weekend, I have been obsessed with that option. Researching tickets. Looking up hostels. Trying to pinpoint the best time of year to leave in order to have the best possible weather at all of my preferred destinations.
It’s possible that I’m becoming a little consumed by the prospect. Simply shifting all my previous baby making obsession over to the goal of travel.
And it’s funny, because I was initially offended yesterday when Dr. Headshrink called me obsessive. She said it with a smile, but it still felt like a judgment. For the record – she fully supports my desire to just get up and go. But as I was describing my plans surrounding travel (and a few other aspects of my life), I think she could see how invested already I am becoming in these plans. In these hopes and dreams for the future.
How easily I am allowing some of these things to take over for me.
I wanted to fight back. To tell her that no, in reality I am quite laid back and cool. That there is nothing at all consuming me at the moment, thank you very much!
But in reality, I knew that wasn't true.
Still, obsessed feels like such an ugly word. A word that should only be attached to a real psycho. You know, like the kind of girl who would photoshop her face into other people's pictures.
And I think we all know that I would never do anything like that.
OK, so maybe I would… but I still refuse to believe that’s all that weird!
Either way, I think it’s fair to say that Dr. Headshrink may be on to something. It’s possible that I’m a little obsessive. That I have it in me to fixate and become consumed by my own plans. Struggling, and fighting, and searching for the right piece – even when no such piece exists.
It’s possible obsessed might be the right word to use.
But for the record – I prefer determined.
Or driven.
Or even goal oriented.
In fact, while we’re at it – I’m thinking we should just go ahead and call me confident.
Confident.
It sounds so much better than obsessed.
And when you think about it – I would have to be pretty darn confident to so thoroughly believe that I can mold the world around me to appear how I want it to.
So from now on, just so we’re clear – I’m confident. Not obsessed.
And if you refuse to agree, I might just have to find a way to confidently change your mind.
But you know – not to the point of obsession or anything.
Because this girl:
Oh no. She's not obsessed or singularly focused at all.
