Devil in the Details, by Jennifer Traig

I feel like I'm cheating on fiction, somehow...

But my husband bought me this book, and it was so great I had to share. I'm not a great one for memoirs (but Ms. Nonanon is a memoirs fan, as well as all other things nonfiction. You really should check our her site if you haven't already!) but as Traig writes about a subject near and dear to my heart, I couldn't resist.

Anne Lamott once said that what the world needed were more funny books about dealing with serious subjects (her book Hard Laughter is a case in point) Thankfully, Jennifer Traig has come along with just the funny book I needed.

As the subtitle "scenes from an obsessive girlhood" implies, Jennifer Traig has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). She has bouts with a particularly nasty strain--scrupulosity, which is driven by severe and rigorous religious standards.
From several whirls with anorexia, to a personal strain of Judaism so strict she can't bathe for three weeks, eat meat and milk on the same day, or use the letter x (it's a cross, and to touch it means you've converted to Christianity) Traig describes it all from the inside. You wouldn't expect the next words out of my mouth to be "I laughed so hard my chest hurt" but that is in fact the truth.

With her ever changing compulsions, Traig gets herself into some pretty ridiculous situations, and she laughs right along with us. She hints at the unhappiness that (I can assure you) a teenager with OCD feels, and at family strife over her ever changing illness, but she doesn't dwell on it. Far from making fun of OCD, or glossing over the very real consequences of her behavior, Traig is looking fondly at her childhood--as any woman in her thirties would. The only difference is that most women in their thirties don't have memories of compulsory, hours-long, desperate tea rituals with stuffed animals. She is tender with both herself and her family, and the mistakes that, with the gift of hindsight, we can see they made in dealing with her disease. As she points out though, it was the mid-70's and OCD wasn't widely recognized. Through all the hand-washing, rituals, and miles and miles of paper towels the Traigs are held together by love.

As someone who lives with OCD, I know it is difficult to handle, and even harder to explain. Why am I tying and re-tying my shoes 15 times? I have no idea, but believe me, it looks more fun than it is. One of my own personal best answers to the persistent musical question: "Why don't you just stop that?" has always been "Sure. Just as soon as you just stop growing." Now I think I'll give this book to some people in my life, and maybe we can finally laugh our way to understanding each other.