Well not much anyway.
And not all the time.
What I am is an inveterate counter.
WHEW! There I admitted it.
I don't know when it started, but I have done this for as long as I can remember. Maybe it all started at some random birthday party with a jar full off guess-how-many jelly beans. My competetive asshat genes were activated by not winning (Winning is something I would remember. Winning sugar I would absolutely remember.) and I decided to count things in the future in case I were ever presented with another potential jar of jelly beans.
It's not an OCD thing. I don't count everything. I don't care what the outcome is. I won't fret if the outcome is odd v even or more blue than red. Mostly I count steps. Sometimes I count them in paces. I blame letterboxing for that new trick. I don't HAVE to count although I do find it calms and centers my thinking. I am especially prone to do it on the way home, but never in the morning. Maybe it's a tired brain thing.
On the way in I am more prone to poetry composition. I think it's the rhythm of feet hitting the ground that is a good metronome for poetic meter. I often don't even know I'm doing this until something falls out near done. Yesterday, I noticed I was sing-songing something in the quiet and dusty corner of my brain in time to the cadence of my walking.
This is me being tall.
I know - right? I mean I'm 5'7" and that isn't going to get any taller. Maybe it was a subconscious reminder to stand up straight. I tend to slouch due to a big rack and youthful years as a non-conformist and arrogant little burk.
The thing is that even though I wasn't aware of chanting it in my head, I was walking more upright.
That of course got me thinking and pretty soon I am head chanting
This is me being tall.
This is me being happy.
This is me being free.
This is me being me.
Dunno why those things felt important to say, but saying them in this head chanty way made me feel better for the first time in weeks. So I continued all the way to my desk.
The weird thing is that my whole day yesterday felt quite magical. I'm sure the head chanting lope had something to do with it.
Just in case you're wondering -
It is between 800 and 1000 steps from the lab to my car depending on where I park and whether I tunnel or walk streetside.
There are 11 stairs in one flight of the research building and ten in the other.
But I am NOT OCD.
My running partner is a doctor, so she meticulously records the metrics of our runs, eg, distance, average pace, fastest lap, etc. She also counts the number of steps it takes to get from the bottom of the Purple People Bridge (Pete Rose Way) to the top of the grade (200 steps). It is 100 steps from Third and Elm to Fourth and Elm. I also like to count my breaths when I run. It is calming, and I do NOT do "calm". You are not alone.
ReplyDeleteThanks Kathleen. Good to know there are other closet counters out there
ReplyDeleteOr how about counting all the spoons, knives and forks when drying dishes? I did that as a kid, when I dried the dishes. And I always count steps, though I don't bother to remember them any more. And counting paces.... that happens all the time! I'm glad I'm in such good company!
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