A few words and a poem for a certain OCD and Anxiety

Socks @ OCD

It doesn't matter

Identical elements of a different shade, still feel the same if only, I couldn't see color?

Or would the shades of grey

Exacerbate my emotional foray 

Into this psychology need to know

That the items upon my person are as identical as the pairs they were meant to be that way?!

I question my disposition at going against my lower instinct. 

My gut intuition tweaks at the thought of socks not matching upon my feet.

Even down to the holes in my soles,

Though I haven't gone so far as to tear them myself.

You can believe that finding an identical flaw in another would be a new pair, indeed. 

Now here I sit, mixing flat colors from a set of three, and my anxiety is killing me.


It doesn't matter?

I laugh at the amusing faux danger. Like a house of mirrors on my feet. I don't quite recognize myself today, but it feels kind of neat.

That's ok, 

Because lately I've been pissed at being pissed over everything that-don't-know I'm MAD

And it's funny, but a lil sad 

That challenging an OCD inadvertently inspired me to let go of feelings I didn't even see.

I'm a pretty funny guy,

So I'm told that I'm cool, laid back mostly

With a touch of Bold,

When you can't "believe I said that verbal Gold."

Order and Control.

Representation takes a toll.

Traded my peace searching for symmetry, and why the little things matter to me.

On second thought, I do enjoy the contrast.


Self-discovery is vital to the sustainability of our mental and emotional integrity. Nothing can wear you down more than the internal struggle to continue fulfilling objectively superficial or irrational behavioral ques. Speaking from years of experience, my OCDs and Anxiety cares little about any of that Logic. 

It’s funny how something like not wearing matching socks could inspire a bead of sweat on some people. After years of not giving it much thought outside of satisfying my quirk about foot underwear, I decided to see how it feels to go against my driven instinct when I intentionally put on different color socks. 

Now I didn’t go so bold to start, and I kept the color solid. I was amazed at how silly it felt until that subtle sensation kicked in, letting me know that I was slightly bothered. This wasn’t a surprise, as I expected it. What was I hoping to achieve in this outwardly bizarre and mellow dramatic experiment into my own behaviors? 

I want to understand the difference between what bothers me and what matters, To start. 

I have seen shows and documentaries about people who experience physical and emotional signs of anxiety in situations that wouldn't be recognized as anything at all by most people. In that moment, its hard to comprehend how stepping on a crack, or ‘splitting the pole’ can be an issue for some individuals. 

True, Superstition is a factor, if we have to consider anything remotely rational. Yet in those cases when there is nothing to conjecture in regards to reason, we are left with personal, mechanical responsiveness that pivots on the edge of one’s own sanity. Daring to tip over given the opportunity to skirt the lines of overreaction and just satisfying an ‘itch’. 

So yes, this is about mixed match socks. But it’s based on the underline prerequisites that can dictate butterfly effect aspects of our lives. 

Let’s hope getting over this urge doesn’t mean I lose my sense of order in the universe because, sometimes that’s how my little ticks used to feel. Until I forget they even existed. 

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