April 6th, 2007
Assuming Identities
A New Yorker Thread
Issue: April 2, 2007
In Shouts and Murmurs, David Owen wrote a commentary titled “Passing.” In his piece, he talks about how, at the age of twenty-four, he went back to high school. He enrolled, with his literary agent posing as his mother, attended classes, dressed the part, the whole shebang. Needless to say, it didn’t please his new wife, who found the whole ordeal annoying. But Owen pulled it off, and later, wrote a book about his experience, called “High School.”
Owen’s experiment got me thinking about this concept of assuming identities, and how far one will go to research a book, an article, etc. Since I’m primarily a fiction writer, I decided to adapt Owen’s experiment and become one of my characters for the day. Not just think deeply about him or her, write description and back-story, explore the person’s psyche. But BE the character. Dress like the character, speak like the character, take on his or her mannerisms and psychological issues. Or at least try.
In my case, I chose a character with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Not obsessive-compulsive traits or habits, but the full blown disease. While I may have plenty of the former, I do not have the latter, so this was quite a task for me. For one thing, I had to convince myself that the rituals of my OCD character (me) actually mattered. Big time. I couldn’t forget them, or opt out of them at certain times, because each one was critical to the character’s (my) well-being. And, of course, the thing about OCD is you CAN’T forget them, you CAN’T opt out of them. They, and the thoughts that go along with them, own you.
I started by making a list of five rituals. They were:
1. If a destination is 12 steps away from where you started, you must, when you get there, turn a circle and clap. (This meant I had to constantly count my steps everywhere I went.)
2. If you touch the same object three times in a row, without touching anything else in between, you must touch three other objects three times in a row.
3. Every time you write, say, hear, or see the word “death,” say “bless you.”
4. When you wash your hands, you wash them for 21 seconds, no more, no less. Then you stand at the sink for 10 seconds.
5. When you sit down, you must blow off the chair, couch, etc., and then smooth the seat of your pants four times, so as not to get wrinkles in them.
While these may sound absurd, people with OCD do even stranger things, most of the time without reason, or any logical reason. The rituals are, in my understanding, a way for them to bring control back into their lives, since their minds are plagued with obsessive thoughts.
I tried to get into the character by starting with a few rituals. The counting of steps and the blowing off of the chair seemed to be the easiest to remember. I got those down pretty quickly, then worked on counting how many times in a row I touched an object. And let me tell you, it was a full time job in and of itself. I almost couldn’t do anything else but perform the rituals correctly.
I quickly got frustrated, and had trouble getting into the seriousness of it. And then I walked out to my mailbox, and the steps to it just happened to land on twelve. I stood there, in an unusual brightness for a Pacific Northwest April day, and looked around. Kids across the street, an older gentleman weeding his garden, the mailman down the block. And I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bring myself to turn a circle and clap.
But what if I had OCD and I HAD to turn a circle and clap or the rest of my day, the month, the year, my life, would turn out crap? I’d get hit by a bus, my dog would get ran over trying to comfort me while I lay there mangled and bleeding, and in the hospital I’d get a staph infection which would keep me in there for three months and I’d lose my job and my house and in the meantime my husband would find a new wife and she’d use the dishes we picked out as a wedding gift to ourselves and she’d drive my car with the nice leather interior and she’d pet my cat, sleep in my bed, and in the meantime, I’d have to live in a motel with silverfish in the bathtub and water rings on the ceiling and a man next door, a crack addict, who moans through the night.
I grabbed the mail, walked back inside without counting my steps, sat down at my computer without blowing off the seat and smoothing my pants, and gave up the experiment all together. But I gained a new respect, and horror, for those living with OCD. Will I ever write that story? Only if I can imagine the life, and not live it.
Filed Under: The New Yorker |
Issue: April 2, 2007
In Shouts and Murmurs, David Owen wrote a commentary titled “Passing.” In his piece, he talks about how, at the age of twenty-four, he went back to high school. He enrolled, with his literary agent posing as his mother, attended classes, dressed the part, the whole shebang. Needless to say, it didn’t please his new wife, who found the whole ordeal annoying. But Owen pulled it off, and later, wrote a book about his experience, called “High School.”
Owen’s experiment got me thinking about this concept of assuming identities, and how far one will go to research a book, an article, etc. Since I’m primarily a fiction writer, I decided to adapt Owen’s experiment and become one of my characters for the day. Not just think deeply about him or her, write description and back-story, explore the person’s psyche. But BE the character. Dress like the character, speak like the character, take on his or her mannerisms and psychological issues. Or at least try.
In my case, I chose a character with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Not obsessive-compulsive traits or habits, but the full blown disease. While I may have plenty of the former, I do not have the latter, so this was quite a task for me. For one thing, I had to convince myself that the rituals of my OCD character (me) actually mattered. Big time. I couldn’t forget them, or opt out of them at certain times, because each one was critical to the character’s (my) well-being. And, of course, the thing about OCD is you CAN’T forget them, you CAN’T opt out of them. They, and the thoughts that go along with them, own you.
I started by making a list of five rituals. They were:
1. If a destination is 12 steps away from where you started, you must, when you get there, turn a circle and clap. (This meant I had to constantly count my steps everywhere I went.)
2. If you touch the same object three times in a row, without touching anything else in between, you must touch three other objects three times in a row.
3. Every time you write, say, hear, or see the word “death,” say “bless you.”
4. When you wash your hands, you wash them for 21 seconds, no more, no less. Then you stand at the sink for 10 seconds.
5. When you sit down, you must blow off the chair, couch, etc., and then smooth the seat of your pants four times, so as not to get wrinkles in them.
While these may sound absurd, people with OCD do even stranger things, most of the time without reason, or any logical reason. The rituals are, in my understanding, a way for them to bring control back into their lives, since their minds are plagued with obsessive thoughts.
I tried to get into the character by starting with a few rituals. The counting of steps and the blowing off of the chair seemed to be the easiest to remember. I got those down pretty quickly, then worked on counting how many times in a row I touched an object. And let me tell you, it was a full time job in and of itself. I almost couldn’t do anything else but perform the rituals correctly.
I quickly got frustrated, and had trouble getting into the seriousness of it. And then I walked out to my mailbox, and the steps to it just happened to land on twelve. I stood there, in an unusual brightness for a Pacific Northwest April day, and looked around. Kids across the street, an older gentleman weeding his garden, the mailman down the block. And I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bring myself to turn a circle and clap.
But what if I had OCD and I HAD to turn a circle and clap or the rest of my day, the month, the year, my life, would turn out crap? I’d get hit by a bus, my dog would get ran over trying to comfort me while I lay there mangled and bleeding, and in the hospital I’d get a staph infection which would keep me in there for three months and I’d lose my job and my house and in the meantime my husband would find a new wife and she’d use the dishes we picked out as a wedding gift to ourselves and she’d drive my car with the nice leather interior and she’d pet my cat, sleep in my bed, and in the meantime, I’d have to live in a motel with silverfish in the bathtub and water rings on the ceiling and a man next door, a crack addict, who moans through the night.
I grabbed the mail, walked back inside without counting my steps, sat down at my computer without blowing off the seat and smoothing my pants, and gave up the experiment all together. But I gained a new respect, and horror, for those living with OCD. Will I ever write that story? Only if I can imagine the life, and not live it.
Filed Under: The New Yorker |
April 6th, 2007 at 2:38 pm Very interesting, Kelly. I truly can’t imagine living like that, but then I guess people with OCD don’t know anything different. You must not have kids, because believe me, you find yourself doing much crazier things than turning a circle and clapping your hands at the mailbox when you do. Great experiment!
April 7th, 2007 at 5:56 am […] In this article a writer tries living life as one of her characters for a day. That character has OCD. It’s very interesting. Go give it a read. […]
April 9th, 2007 at 6:41 pm I am very familiar with this illness, since I have a family member who suffers from it (for some reason, the term “illness” is used more often in NF books about it than the term “disease,” by the way).
It makes me tear up to know you attempted it…you can surely imagine how people with OCD must feel, since they are not crazy, and they do indeed realize what they are doing is not normal, but are “compelled” to do it anyway. It’s a lonely life for them unless they can control it. Often it’s one day at a time.
April 10th, 2007 at 6:07 am Thanks for reading, Sharon, and for the link, “Incertus.” Your site is very informative. Lisa–oh, yes, “illness” sounds much more appropriate. Thanks. I can only imagine how overwhelming and frustrating it is to have OCD. “Experimenting” is one thing, but to live with it day by day–yikes! Truly frightening to me.
April 24th, 2007 at 12:23 pm I live everyday with OCD. And you are correct in saying its both overwhelming and frustrating to live with it. I find it very interesting that someone was actually compelled to try and spend a day as a person with OCD. It’s kind of refreshing to hear someone who doesnt have it be able to give such an accurate and realistic description of it.
April 24th, 2007 at 1:41 pm Thanks, Kirsten. When I first heard about OCD I assumed it had to be stress or trauma related. That’s it’s not, that there is no “reason” for it, must be the most frustrating of all. Because what do you do then, to overcome it?
April 25th, 2007 at 1:55 pm Its kind of a constant battle within yourself. Logic vs what you brain tells you to do, it is very difficult to seperate the two. I have to agree that is the most frustrating part, how can you cure something without knowing what caused it.