artificial insemination kit for humans
My children often express their frustration when they can’t find the glasses they used earlier in the day. You’ll catch me discreetly closing closet and pantry doors as they wander around, and if they leave an important school assignment lying around, it quickly gets tucked away in a drawer. Leftover food that hasn’t been eaten within a few days? Gone.
This intense need for order can be overwhelming, and I’m not entirely sure where it stems from. Perhaps it traces back to when I was seven and had a plantar wart. After applying medicine one night, I carelessly left it out, which led to my baby sister accidentally ingesting some. That night, I witnessed my dad in a panic, frantically calling poison control. Luckily, my sister was fine, but that incident burnt a lasting impression on me.
Then there was the time we stayed with friends in a house that was not just messy but covered in grime and had a peculiar odor. As a military kid, I was used to frequent moves and temporary stays, but something about that house deeply unsettled me. I began cleaning, instinctively seeking to erase those unsettling feelings. I was only six, but I remember wiping down a collection of bells, puzzled by the stickiness surrounding me.
My obsession with cleanliness intensified when I began calorie counting. I restricted myself to a maximum of 1200 calories and kept my room in immaculate condition. Every morning, I worked out before school and earned tips at my grocery store job, constantly pushing myself for perfection. I felt I had to control my surroundings, starting with the cleanliness of my space and the food I consumed.
Years later, I managed to loosen my grip a bit. I stopped obsessively measuring my food and became more forgiving of my academic performance. I found more joy in life and began to wonder why I had been so hard on myself for so long. However, my compulsive need to tidy up persisted. If something is out of place, it’s as if an internal alarm goes off, compelling me to fix it.
My ex-husband once tested my awareness by subtly rearranging items in our home. One time, he clustered some beach stones I had carefully arranged, and I noticed the change almost instantly. He found my reaction amusing, but it also made me feel a bit defeated.
When I share pictures online, I’m not trying to impress anyone; my home’s tidiness is simply a reflection of my internal world. While guests often compliment the cleanliness of my place and wonder about the absence of clutter, I feel more shame than pride. This need to maintain order is essential for my mental well-being. I struggle to relax and allow my children to leave their backpacks on the table or let a plate of cookies linger on the coffee table. I feel compelled to put everything back in its place, fearing that if I let one thing slide, chaos will ensue.
I frequently apologize to my kids for my tendencies and I’m working on being more lenient. I’ve improved at leaving their glasses on the table a bit longer and letting them enjoy their messes in their rooms. But it’s vital for visitors to understand that my immaculate home isn’t meant to make anyone feel inferior. It’s merely a manifestation of my struggles with anxiety and control.
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In summary, my extreme anxiety fuels my compulsive need for order and cleanliness in my home. While this may create a pristine environment, it is also a reflection of my ongoing struggle with control and mental health. I strive to find balance, allowing my children to enjoy their space while navigating my own challenges.
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