Auditory Ills
Posted on February 8, 2008
Filed Under kids, another dread disease, Anxiety, neurosis |
Goteeman turned me on to an exam of sorts today and my test scores did not surprise me. The results are in and the kind folks over at BlogThings have said:
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You Are Totally Anal Retentive |
 Yup, you’re so uptight - people definitely have called you “anal.” You’re the type of person who’s so OCD you organize your M&Ms before eating them. You have so many rules and rituals, it’s hard for you to let loose and enjoy life. So go ahead and mix up your alphabetized CD collection. Live a little! |
(Go ahead, click on over, take your test and then come back. I can wait.)
So I am totally, hopelessly, stiflingly anal retentive. This is not shocking or new information but it underscores a certain low-level of anxiety I’ve been feeling lately while eating with others. It seems that I have become increasingly intolerant of the sounds people make when chewing - the smack and burble of someone speaking with their mouth full, dribbles of food falling out onto the table or the floor, the snorting whistle from the nose made when those who tend to be mouth breathers are forced to use their nasal passages because there is a big hunk of steak blocking their airway of choice. It’s all I can do not to cover my ears or hurry from the room to cower in a quiet, dark space and wait for the meal to be over.
This eating aversion can make dinner with my children excruciating. O likes to shovel food towards his face, bringing his mouth to plate level, hunched and hungry, he consumes food much like Cookie Monster, a sort of frenzied crumb fest ensues. G is a dabbler. She never seems to fully approve of the meal set in front of her so she compensates for her displeasure by swirling and stirring and poking at the food on her plate in a sort of dinner dissection ritual. It’s an active dance of avoidance which often ends with her eating choice items with her fingers and spilling her milk. I like to eat my dinner standing up at the kitchen sink, so at the very least, I am five feet away from the very audible experience of dinner with others.
It’s always been there, this irritation. I can remember being adolescently-annoyed by the way my father ate his dinner. The family dining room filled with the sounds of his mastication and I was ill with intolerance. My head threatened to explode. But I was sixteen, I was supposed to harbor a nuclear hatred for everything parental, even chewing habits. But sixteen no longer, now more so than ever, if I’m tired or sick or even slightly off my game, this kind of thing can threaten to unhinge me.
And it makes me nervous because I hail from a long line of Obsessive Compulsives. The most dysfunctional among us is my very own brother and we share half our DNA. On good days, medicated days, he brushes his teeth repeatedly and checks to see that the stove is off and counts the calories he has consumed in a day and then promptly goes out to run for the exact amount of time it will take to burn off every calorie that has passed his lips.
On bad days, things are dicier. He suffers harm obsessions that center around driving and the possibility that the little bump in the road was in fact the thud of a human body bouncing off the front fender. He has been known to circle the car inspecting the exterior for signs of collision with human flesh -for days and days and days. And then, weeks into the obsession, he will begin searching the woods by the side road for the body of the person he is now certain he has killed while driving. Newspapers are collected and carefully culled for reports of hit and run accidents. When none of these efforts turn up a body, he quietly drives himself to the local police station and turns himself in. It’s a cycle that the law enforcement folks have grown used to and they patiently explain that they are quite sure of his innocence and turn him away which is, in some ways, crueler than locking him up just long enough to let his brain reset.
So I’m afraid that this chewing obsession may blossom into something less banal, more unusual and debilitating. There’s a fine line between anal retentive and obsessive compulsive and I’m losing sight of the distinction. I will gladly accept anal retentive as my diagnosis. I’ll receive and own it and hope that the other, more distressing mental disorder, remains at bay for just a little bit longer.
How’d your test trun out? Do tell.
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16 Responses to “Auditory Ills”
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I thought that test was very unfair! My husband is TOTALLY anal retentive and it drives me crazy, with his compulsively checking locks and all, and I’m relaxed and normal. But it doesn’t ask questions about locks, instead asking about how you make your bed and if you have a certain order you like to read the paper, so I tested mildly anal retentive and Donn got off scott-free!
Good luck with your chewing obsession. Do you really eat all your meals at the kitchen sink?
mine says i’m a little anal retentive—that “deep down, people are exactly like you.” poor f*ckers.
Apparently, I’m just like you. Listen to this - a couple of weeks ago, my 3 year old son set his shoes side by side in the hallway. Left was where right should be and vice versa. Also, the left shoe was slightly downwind of its partner. After trying to walk away, he actually checked himself, went back, rearranged left and right AND he aligned them. Without realizing what he had just done, he went on his way. I stood there, simultaneously proud and horrified at what I seem to be passing in terms of teachings to my child. Really, who cares if the bloody shoes are not facing correctly? and more importantly what difference does it make if they are not ruler aligned? The terrible thing is that though I try to ignore it. It makes a difference - to me.
I’m off the charts. Not that I needed the test to figure that out. Wish I had that ass though. I quietly sort my M&Ms and then eat them in order (yellow then brown then orange and give the rest away). The weird thing is that I have been thinking the exact same thing for the past several months. Only, I worry that my anal-retentiveness will lead to Alzheimer’s or some similar mental disease that will cause my brain to implode on itself. I’m obsessively doing crosswords to buy some extra time.
i’m like liv. “a little anal-retentive. most people are like you.”
but i’m more than a little anal-retentive. so there.
I thought the test was a little too brief to be decisive but I’m glad that everyone shares a little anal retention here. It would suck if I were the only one. And I do eat standing up, sort of safe and away from the din, when I can, when it’s just me and the kids. Totally serious about this one. Helppp!
Two things. One, I do share the aversion to chomping sounds. (I rarely go to a theater for this reason alone.) Two, I came out NOT anal retentive. In fact, I lost points just because I failed to answer three of the six questions, showing inattention to detail that bordered on the slovenly. I prefer to think of it as a high tolerance for uncertainty and complexity.
What a difficult life for your brother. There is a looooong way between anal retentive and OCD (even though some days it may seem closer)!
What I can’t stand is the sound of teeth scraping along the metal tines of a fork - it’s worse than nails on a chalkboard and a lot more prevalent in this house.
My boss at work makes awful chewing noises. I want to run screaming but sometimes I have to eat with him. As for the test I only tested a bit anal retentive. Only because there were no questions about setting the alarm clock. - The numbers on the clock have to add up to a number evenly divisible by four. Yeah, weird.
It tells me I’m a little anal retentive. But they didn’t ask about the chewing. Drives me crazy, too. Like completely batsh*t crazy. Not so much when my kids do it, but other people definitely, with a few in particular. I don’t know why this doesn’t qualify me for a stay in a sanitarium, which seems like more and more of a vacation as time passes. (Is there rehab for this sort of thing? Sign me up.)
And, Moshizzle, I do the same thing with M&Ms. Except they ruined my eating order when they took away the light brown ones. I was not happy.
Your brother’s life sounds pretty challenging, both for him and for those who love him. I can’t imagine the sort of internal meter that must always run inside his mind.
I’m right there with you, honey. I alphabetize, sort and can also hear entirely too much stuff going on at the dinner table.
Hmmm. I claim to be anal but my test says I’m not. Not at all. Interesting. A poser.
JP is like you with chewing and unfortunately, he married into a Chinese family- not sure if you know but in China, there are no such things as table manners. Food falling out of your mouth, loud chewing, slurping and other habits thought poorly in Western countries, is the norm. Bringing boyfriends home to dinner was always STRESSFUL.
“only a little anal retentive”
phew. that’s a relief.
i am totally with you on the chewing, though.
that was the first test to dating for me…
if a guy chewed with his mouth open and spoke with food in his mouth…there was absolutely no way things were going to work out.
I think I’m more of a control freak than anal retentive…but I could be wrong???
I’m “a little anal retentive.” My husband might beg to differ with the “little” part, however.