Disclaimer: Jen the Newlywed is not a licensed therapist or psychologist. Her diagnosis of herself or others is purely fabrication and entirely made up out of her loony bin imagination. Jen the Newlywed cannot prescribe any medication to you or your loved ones. She wishes she could. Because, let's face it, Valium can be necessary at times.
Dr. Jen is in today, and I have diagnosed myself with Selective Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or SOCD. Allow me to elaborate on this diagnosis...
People with OCD are very particular about things, they want control of everything, and things have to be just so. If things aren't the way they want them to be, they get a little panicky and frazzled. They may even throw a fit. They are anal about details and it is not an option for you to "mess with" the way they think things should go.
Then there is me, someone with Selective Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Meaning, I am not OCD about 99.9999% of the areas in my life, but there are a few areas that raise concern.
I have a notepad on my desk at work, that I write down pretty much everything on. I am very particular about this notepad. Sometimes one of my co-workers will write on it. As soon as they walk away, I rip off the page that was written on by anyone other than me, and I RE-WRITE everything that was on the page on a brand new page. Weird.
When I am at the grocery store, when I get to the check out line, I am very particular about the order in which I unload the items onto the conveyor belt thing. All things cold go first. Then all other food items that do not need to be refrigerated, and then, finally, all non-food items (household cleaners, etc.).
I have to finish songs. You can't leave a note unresolved. For instance, if you were to walk up to me and sing, "Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti".... and then dare me NOT to sing "DOOOOOO!" I would fail miserably at that dare.
I don't care where I am, what I am doing, or what emotional state I am in.... I could be alone in a cave where I have been lost for 3 months and have no food and laying down taking my last breaths and on my way to be with Jesus... if YMCA came on the radio, my arms would fly into the air. Jesus would welcome me into His kingdom as soon as I completed the letter A.
I cannot watch television for any length of time without some sort of blanket.
What I am getting at here, is that I am generally pretty non-anal in my life. But there are some things I am just ridiculous about. I have to be in control. And if Grant tries to unload the cart with the bread first, he gets snapped at.
I have also found this to be true when it comes to trusting in God. Grant and I are in a season of trust right now (more on that in a later post), and I have found that there are certain things I am willing to give up control of, and other things I find myself to be clinging to.
It is like I am saying, "Okay Lord, I trust You, but only in areas A, B, and D. You can't have C yet though. I know better than You on that one and I am afraid You will mess it up".
The last few weeks I have really been trying to give EVERYTHING to Him, even the scary parts. It is so silly to me, cause you would think that those "scary parts" would be the parts I would be gladly throwing off of my shoulders and passing on to Him. Lord knows I am not smart enough to be handling anything in this life on my own!
I have found, however, that when I DO give it to God, and allow Him to have total control, He covers me with His peace. I know that I have put my burdens in better hands.
Romans 15:13 says, "May the God of hope fill you will all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit".
I love when the Lord gives me little reminders like that. He is so much wiser and stronger. He is all knowing, all powerful. Praise the Lord that I am not in control of my life!!
Afterthought: If I am sitting in church and the person in front of me has a tag sticking out of their shirt, I tuck it back in. Even if the result of this behavior is the unsuspecting member of the congregation turning to me and giving me an odd stare, I just say "Sorry! Your shirt tag was sticking out!", and the 96 year old man goes back to listening to the sermon with his special hearing device. Grant looks at me in horror.