In Defense of Obsession

Throughout the course of my life, people have given me grief for my intense, admittedly obsessive interests, or perseverations as they're known in clinical-speak, particularly in the cure-autism circles. I hate that word, because it looks so much like something having to do with perversions and because these people tend to think that there is in fact something perverse about being intensely, singlemindedly interested in something. It's as though they advocate a level of interest that lacks commitment and depth, and anything else is pathological and unhealthy.

When I look at the world this way, when I think of what it would be like to be that way, something like panic starts fluttering about frantically inside of me...my chest tightens, my brain feels anxious, hyper....I cannot imagine what it would be like to live a life without the kind of passion and mental involvement that I experience....the thought is horrible beyond words. Frankly, I would not want to live in the sort of halfhearted mental world they describe to me. It would be like...almost like having a lobotomy. :shudder: Awful....so awful.

What can they live for? What gives their lives meaning? What on earth is the point, the motivation to keep slogging away?

Oh, that's right. Life is easier for them (maybe- I am skeptical about this, but many of them seem fairly placid, so I'll take their word for it for now). Does their world consist entirely of social connections, social games, social status competition and (sigh) social bonding? Does everything they do (or most of it?) revolve around social constructs, on the shaky, fragile world of human interaction?

It seems to me that shunning would be an even more severe punishment in that light....and frankly, it's impossible for me to be objective on this tangent right now, so I'll just skip it. I don't see how people could endure it if it were more painful, more weighty than what I'm already experiencing. Nobody would survive. Anyway...moving along here......
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I don't know how to describe the amount of mental pleasure- not in a sexual sense, although if I had to choose, it would be better than sex- that I derive from being intensely, profoundly interested in something. What it is doesn't matter particularly, but for me, obsessions in adulthood tend to be things which can be categorized, mentally mapped out, visualized and played with mentally in a visual mental world. They often involve living organisms- plants or animals....and those have more holding power since plants and animals calm and nurture me when humans do not, so that I am benefiting on more than one level.

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And then there are the times....when I get obsessed about people.....
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Nine times out of ten, maybe even 19 times out of 20, it's just a temporary infatuation thing, because frankly, most people aren't truly interesting enough to stay obsessed over for very long. I don't mean that in a bad way.....it's just that obsession is like a powerful machine that eats a lot of gas, or like a fire that needs a lot of fuel and oxygen. When the fuel or air runs out, the fire dies down. When a person is just a pretty face without very much depth, there isn't a lot of fuel. Some folks are good, decent people in an attractive package....from there, it mellows into a friendship or they become one of those people who are like a comfortable old T shirt. Sometimes a person seems more mysterious than they really are...they're like a puzzle that you can't put down until you've figured it out. And then....then they're not so intriguing anymore. Then they'd better have some other redeeming qualities to lend some staying power to the relationship..or maybe, if they're intelligent and have good intuition, they'll retain a little mystery, a little hard to get....just to keep the interest level up. Maybe, if it's to be a very long term kind of thing, they'll embark on some common interest or activity.

Rarely....like the title of this blog...very, very rarely.....someone comes along who's like...like a puzzle piece that fits perfectly into your soul. Like a pair of jeans that you put on for the first time, and they feel like they've always been in your closet. Like...like so much a part of your life that they feel as irreplaceable as one of your own hands. It's just right, in such a profound way that it's absolutely terrifying. And you want to run but no, you can't move away. And then...then you know that you're screwed....that this is deeper than any obsession will ever be, stronger, inescapable. Because unlike the others, this time, it isn't going to fade out into disinterest. This time, it grows into devotion, the sort of devotion that leaves you feeling like a faithful old dog, like a boulder embedded deep and immovable into the earth.

And that......that is not an obsession. I don't know what to call it, but it's awful and the only thing really worth living for...at the same time.