Category Archives: Paranoia

The bad friend

The bad friend

I am a bad friend.

All her friends have always said so.

When she was nine, her best friend told her she was a bad friend because she wore glasses.

When she was 12, a friend told her she was bad because her braces and mouth retainer made her breath smell.

When she was 15, she was a bad friend for standing up for her boyfriend.

When she was 18, she was a bad friend for not being friends with a girl she hadn’t spoken to in two years.

When she was 21, she was a bad friend for not saying hello to a friend of a friend who really needed people to be nice to her.

When she was 24, she was a bad friend for not keeping in contact for the few weeks she went home to help her dad recover from heart surgery.

When she was 27, she wasn’t a bad friend because she had given up on having friends.

When she was 30 she was a bad friend for always calling another friend in the evening after a few drinks.

At least she’s got a few years before someone blames her for trying to be friends with them.

On Depression

On Depression

Depression, the emotional memory aggregator, seeps in slowly through every tiny crack in my life.  At first its just a bad decision, like taking a cab when the bus was 1/4 of the price.  From there it builds.   Though I’m still maintaining happiness most of the time, I begin to notice that things just don’t go right here and there.  There is still enough going well that I don’t realize I’ve been captured and well on the dissent.

I start second guessing myself out of a vague feeling that I’ve been wrong a bit too much lately.  Then Indecision creeps in under my nose followed by his best pals: Confusion and Doubt.   The Depression Gang’s whispers and mockery between my ears get louder and louder as they dig through my memory files.  One by one they pull out all the photos they’ve taken of themselves during my life time.  Like parasites, they high-jack my eyes and ears to match their horrid memories to my outer world.  I see strangers with characteristics of all the people I’ve ever disliked in any way, actors on screen resemble friends who pushed me away, song lyrics stab at my heart with remembrance of precious people I’ve lost, and any misstep a reminder of anything I’ve ever set out for and failed to achieve.

In defense, my boundaries and walls strengthen with hot showers, funny movies, and positive meditations.  To draw me out, they tease me like I’m a hungry puppy and they have beef jerky.  They allow me to walk just up to the gates of my goals, so I can see what’s on the other side then slam the gates in my face. Licking my wounds, I try another gate, only to be once again denied and made to feel a failure.  After a while, I don’t see the gate keepers as real people, instead I see the evil possessing them; like puppet masters, pulling strings to make my life as teasingly miserable by using as many people around me as they can.

The process repeats all while their memory attacks increase.  I begin to see a pattern and the problem, I begin to believe, is me.  The world doesn’t like me and as proof, the memory movie of all the negative events of my life is now playing on repeat.  It won’t stop playing.  I can press pause and get relief through positive interactions that have nothing to do with my main goal

I can buy happiness, through hobbies and nice meals with friends, but the world won’t pay me happiness.  Not with depression around my neck.  He has convinced me of my unworthiness and I begin to simply believe it.  I give in and angrily take the meager scraps he has to offer.  But he will still make me wait, make me jump through hoops and hurdles all because I need something and am working hard to obtain it.

As my walls and boundaries erode, I fall back into the indebted world.  The light at the end of the tunnel above me gets smaller and smaller as Depression makes me wait until he says its time for me to climb myself back up to the normal world.

The rant of ages

The rant of ages

I’m lost in a sea of endless chatter

Front, back, and all around I hear the banter

I sit for days and ponder what could be

Never what could have been, maybe rarely though

The ramblings stop short in certain spots

Giving me relief from constant digestion of words to derive meanings

How can so little mean so much while at the same time not be clear

It becomes difficult to cling to the signs of the sane

when everywhere you see signs of other people clinging

If the signs aren’t clear then don’t follow them

They will only lead to friends who you can never fully grasp

Don’t be discouraged by the lack of clear signals

They are constant

Instead watch for the light houses

Their beacons always guide to go places with good food and peace of mind

Not everyone is a whole person to everyone else

If you cannot see 360 degrees then don’t bother

Some beacons are too bright, trend with caution towards them

They are sirens and devils in disguise

Don’t be surprised that these devils exist

Once you’ve meet one, you’ll be better able to spot another and thus avoid them

They take human form but fit awkwardly into the body

They cannot grasp simple things like hygiene, manners, social ques, etc.

They often claim to have a devastating mental disability or horrible upbringing, yet are extremely well educated

They are essentially harmless physically but will suck the life out of you

They feed off your energy and take over your life

These are not the real guiding beacons in life

They have nothing to show you, but only see what you can do to fulfill their goals and mission

The real beacons don’t intrude

they have manners because they aren’t devils who invaded another’s body

they are compassionate and considerate humans

there is more to life than beacons and signs

but still be sure to learn which are important to you

and which are really just dust.

On Work

On Work

An interesting topic to be find myself writing about on a Saturday night, but writing about it seems to be the only way to get it off my mind.  Rework worries me.  I realize that rework is a fact of life and the power to completely eliminate it often is not mine, but It makes me lose confidence in myself.  Since I my current personal goal is to identify and work through all the situations that cause me yo lose confidence in myself, I must focus on rework.

Rework makes me feel like shit.  Like every time something is passed back it is because of some fault of my own and I know that is not true.  It isn’t always my fault and it doesn’t matter whether or not it is anyone’s fault.  But I often blame myself, not cognitively.  The emotional tidal wave hits first, leaving my mind to clean up the wreckage.  It is a mess.  When rework is presented to me I make all sorts of strange comments like, “I thought I checked that.”  I have internal fears that like to suck glory from rework.  Every question someone asks become so sort of validation of my fears.  Luckily I am able to beat my fears off with sticks and direct conversations with superiors (who always tell me I’m doing a good job), but it took years of being exposed to the work world to get this far in my social understanding of the workplace.

I want to be better, and I think the only way to be better is to really take inventory of how often I am given rework and note whether or not it was an error of my own or a defect in the task process.  Also it would help to note how often I procrastinate and subsequently forget what I put off.  Sigh… it never ends….

 

On feeling like I’ve done something wrong

On feeling like I’ve done something wrong

There are just so many rules in social life to follow… too many rules!  I know them all so well that I am aware of many many opportunities to to break them, but I don’t break them on the world stage.  Instead I break them in my mind.  I play out the entire scene for my own amusement and often detriment.  Generally the penalty for breaking social rules is embarrassment.  If perchance you happen to not get embarrassed then people go out of their way to explain why you should be embarrassed while giving you those looks meant to teach children to behave and conform.  Having broken many social rules, I am conditioned to be highly aware of rules, so aware that I automatically leave social gatherings with a feeling that I did something wrong.  It is an automatic response that typically lasts until I finish reviewing the event for validation of the feeling.  On a good day this feeling doesn’t bother me, but if I have been stressed, hungover, or not feel particularly well, my ability to deflect irrational thoughts decreases and I become unable to shake it off.  Dwelling in these irrational thoughts only makes me feel worse.  Awareness of what is going on helps but doesn’t fully cure my episode of despair.  All I can do is hope that my general sense of well-being returns to brighten my day.

On Traumatizing Your Inner World

On Traumatizing Your Inner World

I often sit and daydream about how it all could go wrong. I could get a devastating disease, special people could suddenly cease to exist, or someone could undermine my efforts for stability and longevity. I guess those are the main categories to fear and ruminate over how I would handle myself through various survival mechanisms. It is one thing to dream up horrifying situations, yet it another when a perfectly rational individual believes that the moment they fear the most is actually happening and could lead them to the devastating end or life situation that they dread most. But that thesis is best saved for a different essay.

In remedy of these intense periods of anxiety, I try to think of equally horrifying situations that I wouldn’t be afraid of. Through this procedure, I have learned that there are horrifying things that I wouldn’t be so devastated over if they actually happened so long as none of my choices were a contributing factor to the outcome. For example, getting an STD would be much worse than having breast cancer considering that the former involved some sort of break down in my decision making, whereas the latter is probably a result of nature being out of my control. Though I guess you could add the nature argument to both cases, but it is clearly more heavily weighted in the breast cancer example unless I willingly to walk into a high radiation zone, which is highly unlikely despite my extremely over-active imagination.

My intense habit of dreaming up bad situations stems from bad things that happened in the past which I felt totally unprepared to properly deal with in the moment. Like all those situations where after the fact you think of all the perfect things you could have said that would have been much better than what you actually said. It is those moments that haunt me because of their sudden heightened occurrence that forced me to deal with everything that was happening in the moment without break or proper time to think it through. All I had on me at the time were the only resources I was capable of using, and even then I wasn’t even aware of all the tools at my disposal.

These situations have caused me much misery over the bad way in which I believe I handled the situation and in this jungle it seems as though my mind needs more training on how to more properly deal with them when they come along again in the future. Until then, I’ll traumatize my inner world in hopes of not feeling so traumatized from the outside world.

Coping Skills

Coping Skills

There are just inevitable situations in life that are so sudden and/or traumatic that recovery indeed takes a long time…. and actually you’re never the same person as you once were. This not only happens because you enjoy the new found “you” who has emerged out of your psyche to keep the body living, but also because pieces of you are in fact dead. Once over the mourning period, you get a new rigor and enthusiastically fill into your new shoes. Despite nature’s euphoria melting over your head, things still happen that can be stressful. Luckily the new you is well equipped to shrug off many incidents as normal errors in the process of discovery, but there are some situations that are not granted this stress-exempt status.

As with the rest of life, you find yourself simply reacting to these stress-situations as you would any other situation without realizing how much negativity you are actually piling on your shoulders. The effect of your push to maintain this new, more positive outlook is that perhaps too many negatives are overlooked and continuously overlooked and continuously overlooked, and habitually overlooked……

Then at some point your love affair with your new self fades and you’re back in the swing of real life. Looking back you can think of millions of happy thoughts to make you laugh out loud on elevators or completely space out in meetings…. but also there are those horribly unhappy thoughts that make me cringe with humiliation and dread.

My post traumatic life is filled with situations that haunt me, not because these situations were of any significance…. but because I have lost my ability to handle intense situations involving human interaction. I see people as way too complex for me because I can never know for sure what they really mean or what they are really thinking. My openness has caused me to get myself into situations that ended up being way more than I was told I was getting myself into. They are not all negative, which is worse because I can’t handle the fact that I can never get that love back.