I've been suffering from an almost crippling paranoia for a few days now. I'll be damned but I've somehow managed to become AFRAID of the 2012.
Paranoia is always strange. I mean, when you're aware that it's happening, you can process it (somewhat) and kind of accept that things aren't the reality you're perceiving them to be. However, your mind still wanders into the Bad Places and you have to deal with them. It's kind of like sitting on a 16 hour bus ride with a prophet of doom right next to you. Oh, and they're in the aisle seat so you can't just get up and leave.
What is making me paranoid? Why, every little thing. I'm scared of things in the house breaking. I'm scared of the HOUSE breaking. I'm scared of the car messing up. I'm scared of running out of money, of losing chances to get money, I'm scared my friends are mad at me, that my life will get no better (not that it's bad, to be honest), than hoards of evil men will be mean to me, that everyone will stop loving me. . . you get the idea.
You might tell me that everyone feels this way about things sometimes. I know this. You might then think I'm blowing this out of proportion. I'm not though because where sane people's thoughts will end in a kind of vague "gee, that would be bad and I hope it doesn't happen," when my paranoia is acting up, it's never that simple.
I know you want an example. Here it is.
The other day, the cat found a mouse. My roommate suspected more were around and we set a trap (hence the trap snapping on my finger situ). That was Sunday, which means I had a whole night to let the paranoia build. See, my mind fixated on one certain thing we'd discussed about where all the mice were coming from. My roommate said something like, "Well, they're probably field mice who had to come into the towns to get water. It got so dry this summer, they really had no choice."
A simple statement. This is what my mind did with it.
When we came back from grocery shopping on Monday morning, I literally had to force myself to get out of the van and walk into the house. Force myself. I had to think "WALK DAMN YOU" to every step, EVERY SINGLE STEP . . . because I was convinced the house would be full of mice.
You know, like those horrible mice plagues they have in Australia? The ones where the mice are like this sea of ick that eats and destroys everything in sight?
Yes, oh yes, that is what my mind was telling me was in store for me when I walked inside. And even though I KNEW it couldn't be the case (probably), that paranoia just kept eating away at me. By the time I went inside, I was almost in tears. My heart was racing, and not for the usual reasons. It was hell.
And of course, there were no damned mice to be found. Stupid paranoia fucking bullshit.
Well, no mice until today when my roommate caught one in his trap. I wonder what my crazy brain will come up with from that.
No comments:
Post a Comment