Judge Not

It may not look like much but this book is an incredibly engaging read. Once you pick it up, you can't put it down. It's called Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. I know. You're wanting one right now.

This was the text I used for a graduate class I had before the DSM-IV came out. I spent the first week wondering if I should just quit school right then and commit myself to the loony bin. Page after page illustrated my quirks and gave me a diagnosis. I was crazy.

The professor finally took the time to explain that most of us exhibit some of the behaviors outlined in the book but in order to be truly certifiable, we had to meet all of the criteria. This is why when I say I am OCD, it's not just a nice little psychobabble boasting about how clean my house is. I actually understand OCD and can quote the characteristics necessary for diagnosis.

The great thing about this book is that it also comes in pocket size. To be more precise, it measures about the size of my scriptures.

Sacrament meeting is full of people wrestling with children, reading their scriptures, playing Tetris on their hand held electronic equipment, while some people actually pay attention to the speakers.

I am a multi-tasker. I listen to the speakers, watch people, and take notes.

"What are you doing?" my husband asked one Sunday during church.

"I'm listening to Brother Jones and taking notes," I said, a little too defensively.

"What are you reading?" he pursued.

"I have my scriptures right here," I pointed vaguely.

He reached over two children and took my book, opened it, and saw the copious notes I had written in the margins. "You are diagnosing the congregation?!"

"It's just my way of making sense of the world around me. It helps me interact with them better. Besides, you do it all the time," I defended.

"It's my job," he answered, "and I don't do it outside of work hours." He thumbed through my bible book. "Besides, John can't be diagnosed as schizotypal since there is not evidence of psychosis. Maybe schizoid or avoidant personality disorder, however."

The following week my scriptures sat alone. Someone had taken my DSM. I later saw it in my husband's office at work. I had to actually figure out people without the help of my book. People are not as interesting when I can't attach a mental illness. Church is much more boring.

I miss my book.