When I was about 11 years old, my parents decided that they were going to buy a big trampoline for the backyard. The ins and outs of this purchase were discussed frequently, dominating dinner conversations ("when will we get it?") and shopping trips ("are we gonna buy it NOW? How about now?") alike. All this lead time gave my little brain the chance to fully imagine what new joys the trampoline would bring to my life. I spent hours sitting on the top rung of our fence, leaning up against the bricks and picturing exactly where the trampoline would go in the yard, all the tricks I would learn in the first five minutes (and perfect in the next ten), and how I would make sure that I got to jump on it a lot more than either of my brothers.
And then, finally, the fateful day arrived. It was Trampoline Day! My brothers and I sat in the green summer grass, watching my dad pull out all the parts and figure out how it went together, asking if he needed help every fifteen seconds or so and waiting breathlessly. The only thing that wasn't perfect was this niggling insecurity I had about where my dad had chosen to set up the trampoline. He was situated in the grass a good 15 feet from where I thought the trampoline needed to go. But I wasn't going to let that get me down; he was probably just setting up right there because it was convenient, but surely once he got the thing put together we would move it to the correct spot. Nothing to worry about.
About mid-afternoon the trampoline was nearly completed and I started making subtle comments about trampoline placement. Finally my dad stood up, stretched, looked like he was done, and I stood as well. Now was the time! The time to move the trampoline to the right spot and start having fun! Just like I had imagined! Except my dad said "okay kids, give it a go", stepped back, and my two stupid brothers clambered up onto the blue mat surrounding the trampoline and STARTED JUMPING. And the trampoline WASN'T EVEN IN THE RIGHT SPOT.
Needless to say, this bothered me. And needless to say, "bothered me" is an understatement. This situation would bother me NOW, as a 27 year-old semi-adult. As an 11 year-old, it was pretty much the end of my world, the imploding of my universe - a total mind-screw, if you will. That stupid trampoline, the one I had pined after for weeks and weeks, now sat mocking me, letting me know that while OTHER people might be able to jump mindlessly and have fun, I would never, ever be able to enjoy its sweet pleasures. The blue plastic mat and black bouncy surface represented every single thing that was wrong with the world, at least as far as what I knew of it. The trampoline was in the wrong place.
So I began to plead. I tried every approach I could think of - passive, logical reasoning, aggressive, hard-line arguments, and emotional, tear-filled appeals. Nothing worked. My brothers were happily oblivious to everything, just brainlessly hopping around, and my dad, who had spent the whole day setting up the trampoline, had adjourned to the living room to watch golf and was not interested in listening to me in the least. So my mom was the only one left, and although she and I have some characteristics in common, this particular brand of obsessiveness seems to have afflicted me and me alone. She never understood me when I got like that.
After all my pleading tactics had been tried and failed, I was beside myself. There was nothing left to do, and yet I COULD NOT just do nothing. So I sat and thought and obsessed over it until I came up with what I thought would surely be my trump card - I would run away. I had NEVER run away before, or even threatened to, and I couldn't imagine a world where that (the most dire of threats) would not be taken seriously.
You can probably imagine what happened. I threatened, I wasn't taken seriously. I packed, I wasn't taken seriously. I left - and then about an hour or two later after no one came to find me I came back home to see that the trampoline was in the exact same place as when I left, my mom was cooking dinner, my dad still didn't care, and my brothers were playing Nintendo. Nothing had changed at all. No one understood. And my little heart broke a tiny bit that day, because I realized that there was something about me that was just not quite right. I knew I should be able to enjoy the trampoline regardless of where it was in the yard. I wanted to enjoy it. I didn't want to care about correct trampoline placement. And yet, I cared so much that I had RUN AWAY.
I don't think my 11 year-old self could process the events of that afternoon very well, and to this day, the "Elise ran away when we wouldn't put the trampoline in the right spot" story is told by various family members or friends of mine as an exaggerated personality-explaining joke and always gets a good laugh. Because if you don't have this - this THING in your brain, it IS funny. I mean, I get it. I ran away because my dad wouldn't put a stupid trampoline in this certain spot in the yard. Ha! What a high-strung little lady I must have been. Man! That's funny.
Except to me, it's really not. Because I am still that same way; that same girl who dreams and imagines things in certain ways, and then can't understand when they don't work out. My mind is a scary place - I think in some ways it has enabled me to do things like own my own business at the age of 24 and make it through a lawsuit and fraudulent numbers and a recently-crappy economic turn and still not fail (yet!). I just won't give up, because I imagined success, and I imagined myself as a boutique owner and not a bankrupt business warning story. So I won't give up, I just won't. Even when it seems like there is nothing else to do, I just won't do nothing.
But that same quality/flaw (however you choose to view it) presents itself in EVERY area of my life. I, very unfortunately, have never figured out how to lasso the obsessiveness and parlay it into useful projects only. My whole life - my whole world - is dominated by this same mindset. And obviously in the 16 years since the trampoline incident, I have learned that not everything works out exactly how I envision it. Small things go wrong, big things go wrong. You have to roll with the punches. I fight myself a lot, and usually I can figure out my obsession enough to transfer it to something useful and/or get over it. But sometimes, just like that trampoline, I get completely fixated on something, and I can't - WON'T - believe that it has to be the way it is. I will take a set of facts - hard evidence - and no matter how much I try to let the reality of the situation set in, I end up thinking it could be different. Maybe I read it wrong! Maybe things have changed! Maybe a new angle will fix everything! I refuse to believe that I can't change it; that there's nothing I can do.
Because if there's nothing I can do, then what will I do?
And then, finally, the fateful day arrived. It was Trampoline Day! My brothers and I sat in the green summer grass, watching my dad pull out all the parts and figure out how it went together, asking if he needed help every fifteen seconds or so and waiting breathlessly. The only thing that wasn't perfect was this niggling insecurity I had about where my dad had chosen to set up the trampoline. He was situated in the grass a good 15 feet from where I thought the trampoline needed to go. But I wasn't going to let that get me down; he was probably just setting up right there because it was convenient, but surely once he got the thing put together we would move it to the correct spot. Nothing to worry about.
About mid-afternoon the trampoline was nearly completed and I started making subtle comments about trampoline placement. Finally my dad stood up, stretched, looked like he was done, and I stood as well. Now was the time! The time to move the trampoline to the right spot and start having fun! Just like I had imagined! Except my dad said "okay kids, give it a go", stepped back, and my two stupid brothers clambered up onto the blue mat surrounding the trampoline and STARTED JUMPING. And the trampoline WASN'T EVEN IN THE RIGHT SPOT.
Needless to say, this bothered me. And needless to say, "bothered me" is an understatement. This situation would bother me NOW, as a 27 year-old semi-adult. As an 11 year-old, it was pretty much the end of my world, the imploding of my universe - a total mind-screw, if you will. That stupid trampoline, the one I had pined after for weeks and weeks, now sat mocking me, letting me know that while OTHER people might be able to jump mindlessly and have fun, I would never, ever be able to enjoy its sweet pleasures. The blue plastic mat and black bouncy surface represented every single thing that was wrong with the world, at least as far as what I knew of it. The trampoline was in the wrong place.
So I began to plead. I tried every approach I could think of - passive, logical reasoning, aggressive, hard-line arguments, and emotional, tear-filled appeals. Nothing worked. My brothers were happily oblivious to everything, just brainlessly hopping around, and my dad, who had spent the whole day setting up the trampoline, had adjourned to the living room to watch golf and was not interested in listening to me in the least. So my mom was the only one left, and although she and I have some characteristics in common, this particular brand of obsessiveness seems to have afflicted me and me alone. She never understood me when I got like that.
After all my pleading tactics had been tried and failed, I was beside myself. There was nothing left to do, and yet I COULD NOT just do nothing. So I sat and thought and obsessed over it until I came up with what I thought would surely be my trump card - I would run away. I had NEVER run away before, or even threatened to, and I couldn't imagine a world where that (the most dire of threats) would not be taken seriously.
You can probably imagine what happened. I threatened, I wasn't taken seriously. I packed, I wasn't taken seriously. I left - and then about an hour or two later after no one came to find me I came back home to see that the trampoline was in the exact same place as when I left, my mom was cooking dinner, my dad still didn't care, and my brothers were playing Nintendo. Nothing had changed at all. No one understood. And my little heart broke a tiny bit that day, because I realized that there was something about me that was just not quite right. I knew I should be able to enjoy the trampoline regardless of where it was in the yard. I wanted to enjoy it. I didn't want to care about correct trampoline placement. And yet, I cared so much that I had RUN AWAY.
I don't think my 11 year-old self could process the events of that afternoon very well, and to this day, the "Elise ran away when we wouldn't put the trampoline in the right spot" story is told by various family members or friends of mine as an exaggerated personality-explaining joke and always gets a good laugh. Because if you don't have this - this THING in your brain, it IS funny. I mean, I get it. I ran away because my dad wouldn't put a stupid trampoline in this certain spot in the yard. Ha! What a high-strung little lady I must have been. Man! That's funny.
Except to me, it's really not. Because I am still that same way; that same girl who dreams and imagines things in certain ways, and then can't understand when they don't work out. My mind is a scary place - I think in some ways it has enabled me to do things like own my own business at the age of 24 and make it through a lawsuit and fraudulent numbers and a recently-crappy economic turn and still not fail (yet!). I just won't give up, because I imagined success, and I imagined myself as a boutique owner and not a bankrupt business warning story. So I won't give up, I just won't. Even when it seems like there is nothing else to do, I just won't do nothing.
But that same quality/flaw (however you choose to view it) presents itself in EVERY area of my life. I, very unfortunately, have never figured out how to lasso the obsessiveness and parlay it into useful projects only. My whole life - my whole world - is dominated by this same mindset. And obviously in the 16 years since the trampoline incident, I have learned that not everything works out exactly how I envision it. Small things go wrong, big things go wrong. You have to roll with the punches. I fight myself a lot, and usually I can figure out my obsession enough to transfer it to something useful and/or get over it. But sometimes, just like that trampoline, I get completely fixated on something, and I can't - WON'T - believe that it has to be the way it is. I will take a set of facts - hard evidence - and no matter how much I try to let the reality of the situation set in, I end up thinking it could be different. Maybe I read it wrong! Maybe things have changed! Maybe a new angle will fix everything! I refuse to believe that I can't change it; that there's nothing I can do.
Because if there's nothing I can do, then what will I do?
I get you, Babe.
Unfortunately for me, I totally understand. No one can figure out why EVERYTHING needs to be just so. It took me years to entertain because my house wasn't the way I thought it should be.
I hyperventilate if someone stops by unannounced.
Now that I'm older with children, I'm much more resigned to go with the flow but it still isn't easy.
Good for you to channel it into something productive. I've let it hold me back.
Posted by: Tina | June 02, 2008 at 03:10 PM
It's strange to watch OCD rear its ugly head in the strangest places.
You were totally right of course, the trampoline was in the wrong place. It should have been in my backyard the whole time.
Posted by: Noelle | June 02, 2008 at 03:22 PM
I ran away when my dad cut down our front tree (because it was old and diseased...WHATEVER it was a living breathing tree!). They also didn't care.
"brainlessly jumping around" heee.
Posted by: "antoinette" | June 02, 2008 at 05:00 PM
I understand. I couldn't have friends sleep over when I was in elementary school, because I would get upset when their sleeping bags weren't just so. I've gotten better at controlling it now, but this need to have everything 'perfect' never really goes away, does it? It's hard to accept that there are some things we can't control, no matter how hard we try.
Posted by: Jen | June 03, 2008 at 08:34 AM
That story is adorable. Clearly, I exhibit a lot of the same traits! Although, I have found as I have gotten older, that I can channel my need to control into things that I CAN control (for example, the order that my toiletries sit on the toilet tank each morning), and let other people's decisions go a bit more.
It's an ongoing process.
Posted by: Laurel | June 03, 2008 at 01:07 PM
I am like that about furniture placement in my own house. It is scary. H has faced my wrath for reorganizing the furniture in the guest room when I wasn't home. He has not made that mistake again.
Posted by: -R- | June 03, 2008 at 01:16 PM
It's great you are able to use that ability to channel it into your business. I wish I had that kind of obsession, in that way anyway.
My obsession isn't so much about placement of objects or other specific things but I am rather obsessive with being right. If someone says something that I know is incorrect I find it very hard to bite my tongue and not correct them. ANd I have to go Google it and prove I'm right even if I don't tell them, just for my own satisfaction!
Posted by: Mauigirl | June 14, 2008 at 11:10 AM