OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER (OCD): SWEATING OVER AIR CONDITIONING

Long ago, I was sitting in my office in a high rise building. It was a modern structure that presumably had excellent systems including reliable ventilation systems. That is what I was told when I signed the lease. One summer day I entered the office and it seemed too hot. I checked the vents and no air was blowing out. I called the building office and reported the problem. The call taker apologized and said it would be fixed soon. A maintenance person would be coming up. 

I have severe obsessive compulsive disorder (ocd). I started fixating on the glass entry door waiting impatiently for the maintenance person who did not appear after fifteen minutes. So, after an hour of being more and more preoccupied and watching for the door to open with the, maintenance person my familiar high anxiety set in. I felt hotter and hotter and started to sweat profusely. I became unable to think about or focus on the abundance of things that I needed to pay address to in my very busy legal practice. 

My life suddenly depended on the air conditioning getting fixed. It was a seventy-two degree morning, according to the weatherperson on the radio, and it was going to get slightly warmer, maybe up to seventy-five degrees. No big deal. In my sick mind it seemed like a hundred degrees already. My shirt was soaked and my face was dripping beads of sweat. Another thirty minutes passed and no maintenance person appeared. I was experiencing the beginning of another OCD episode. I knew that what was happening to me was totally psychological. My lifetime OCD disorder was triggered. I had endured the same king of anxiety as the air conditioning not working in hundreds of other forms before ever since I was a small child trying to straighten my pillow perfectly for hours at a time. 

Sweating. But, logic and understanding has nothing to do with OCD. Obsessive compulsive disorder has a mind of it's own. So all my knowledge of my condition was meaningless. I called the building office again and got the same answer. The maintenance person was going to be there. Be patient please. There was an emergency in another office I was told. I was jumping up and down out of my chair like a jack-in-the box. continually checking every vent as if air was magically going to start blowing out. I also kept vigilantly staring at the office door watching for the promised maintenance person to enter. It had now been two hours since I first called the office and I was in intense psychological pain. I finally asked the other four people in the office if they were hot, knowing I would not stop asking them once I started. "We're fine," they said in unison. 

They never once commented on the temperature. I watched them work comfortably and easily as I was going crazier and crazier with anxiety.

"Come over here by my desk,” I asked all four. “Does it feel hot?” “Uh uh, It's fine. Maybe you're not feeling well?” “I'm fine, I'm fine,” I insisted, not wanting to admit I'm sick in the head. I tried to work but couldn't. I just sat and stared at the door. When the third hour passed without the maintenance person arriving. I was a madman. I could only think about how much I hated that person and this building. I was very nervous about calling the building office again. thinking I was going to wear them out and start getting ignored. 

That had happened in many similar situations. Then, I would really be stuck. I could not focus on phone calls, simple questions or tasks. I was totally dysfunctional. I could not offer anything to my $300,000 a year legal practice except dripping sweat. I also had to do the vent checking sneakily because I did not want to be exposed to the staff as being crazy by attracting attention to my erratic checking behavior. I also stayed fixated on the door from my desk. That is all I did in the midst of a sea of business where I was the one in charge. 

Nobody else said a word about being hot. The weather report kept saying it was a beautiful day, a prefect seventy two degrees. The logic and reality of the words meant nothing to me. I was in my OCD zone of torment. After another twenty minutes, I could not take the waiting any more. I asked the others again if any of them had gotten hot. Only one answered. “Not at all.” I called the office again, this time the same voice picked up the phone. I became the rude, entitled, impatient animal I can be. I screamed at the same victim of my insanity. “Where is he, already?” She only said ”I'm sorry. He's still on an emergency. 

Please, be patient” she begged. After a little more time existing in what I felt like was a personal desert I asked my workers again if they felt hot yet. "It's fine here" was all I got from the others who were indifferent, and busy working. One person got up and opened a few of the windows and said, "It's beautiful outside. We don't even need air. This breeze should do it for you." I knew from many years of OCD torment, that this breeze, nice as it was, would not relieve me. The reality that it was my abnormal brain getting caught on an OCD thought was very familiar to me. I felt like I was being bullied by this building. I felt I was a victim of being ignored and being left powerless to resolve my air conditioning problem. 

I was intimidated like I was as a little boy getting bullied. Powerless and afraid. Fear. That is the essence of OCD. All the therapy, the meditation, reading, deep breathing, writing, working out still gave me no relief. I needed the air conditioning to work perfectly. Relief is all that that mattered to me. I had to get rid of that feeling that all pf us with OCD know. Finally, after four hours, a maintenance guy walked in and apologized for the wait. He checked the thermostat and quickly announced that the problem was solved. Batteries were all that were needed which he popped into the thermostat and then he politely left. 

The vents started blowing cool air in beautiful unison. But, was the air as cool as it was supposed to be? I bothered each of the four other people again to check the temperature of the office and they each said it seemed fine as it had been all day. I tried to focus on work, but could not. I was possessed with checking and rechecking vents for the next two hours. Every ten minutes I would sneak over to a vent and feel the air. Finally, despite everything, I decided the air was not blowing cool enough even though the room temperature was a perfect seventy degrees. I still thought it was too hot. I tried to work but still could not. I went down to the building office and talked to the building manager. 

He came back up to my office with me, and brought the maintenance guy also. He had been told of my phone calls and demands for service. All agreed the office was comfortable and that the air was working just like it was in the other two hundred offices. They asked everyone if the temperature was comfortable. All said yes again. The guys left with me giving them an insincere okay, but I was quickly checking vents again and thinking that the air still was still not enough. I again went down to the office. Only this time the building manager would not talk to me. I raised my voice at him. He got angry and invited me to break my lease and leave with no penalty, if I was so unhappy. He said I was too difficult to deal with and calmly said to maybe see a Dr. 

 I went back to my office and just sat and stared at the ceiling till it was time to go home. I still had a barking dog at a neighbors' house to deal with. It was bothering me although the dog was not really barking much. But, I felt I had to do something. 

I ended up breaking my lease at my office building and moving my staff to another space. Soon after I also moved my residence to another building that has no dogs. The lady made no promises of keeping the barking dog quiet. 

I could not live with that. So, I moved. But, in my new apartment, I realized a neighbor was slamming the adjacent apartment door too loudly. I am trying to figure out what to do with that one now. It's on my mind all the time. The misery of obsessive compulsive disorder does not stop when you are afflicted. It is as strong as Superman and as smart as Einstein. There is no peace but there are ways to cope. The hammer in my head rests sometimes but always comes back pounding. But, I am not afraid of it. You can too.