Are You Paranoid?

Back in my wild youth I used to have such fun playing around with friends experiencing paranoia as a side effect from mind altering substances.  I would ask in this innocent, yet sultry voice "are you paranoid?" and it was instant fun.  Friends going through a rough moment would smile at me, give me a hug, and then cheer up.  For some reason, recognizing that paranoia seemed to be key to releasing it once it was acknowledged and viewed through someone else's eyes.

These days I don't really have anyone to say the magic words to yank me out of my paranoia so I have to do it to myself.  I can't say that it's quite as effective, but of course it isn't just a sensation temporarily invoked by drug consumption.  For me, paranoia is a rather new animal I've had to deal with.  I've always had social paranoia, but nothing like what I have been coping with as of late.  This is rough and this is tough.  I actually have some delusional thoughts, but I've so far been able to control my reactions and talk myself down.

People are watching me.

They are!  When I'm working in someone's home I know they're video or audio recording me.  For the most part I don't care because all they'd see is a dumb idiot dashing about in a rush while she bebops and dances around to the music.  I do sing out loud, badly, so I'm sure any audio would be hilarious, but really it's no big deal. Perhaps that's why I'm able to kind of blow it off.  It adds an element of stress to my life that isn't fun, but I am able to tell myself that no one cares to record me and go on.

I guess this is just a a minor thing in reality, but my pdoc was horrified to hear I was having these delusions when I confessed.  They were really bothering me and a rather new sensation so I talked to him about them. Cue another anti psychotic prescription.  I even took the damn pills for three weeks, but didn't really notice a difference so I discontinued their use.  I hate anti-ps and have prided myself on getting off of them, especially since I have an irritating habit of getting the rarer side effects like, oh...lactation.  That was rather interesting, to say the least.

People are laughing at me.

The social paranoia is still hard for me.  I always have the sensation of being watched when I'm in public.  Of course, it doesn't help that I don't look "normal" in that I wear ironic shirts, vintage glasses, and loud colors at times (like my colorful socks).  It's a very unnerving sensation, especially when I do that panicked room check and notice that people ARE looking at me.  It's hard to explain how it feels when I know someone's looking at me, but I can just feel it.  It's very similar to having someone just ever so barely touching me.  Sometimes I feel it physically, which is extremely disconcerting, but most of the times it's a mental touch.  It's as if I can feel a persons' eyes turn onto myself and look.  At times I see myself in my mind, turn, and there's a person staring at me.

It's just that "someone's watching me" sensation that drains me so totally.  That and wondering if people are laughing at me.  I love to laugh, laughter is such an amazing thing, especially when it's unfettered and free.  I try not to let myself laugh freely in front of others because if I truly release and laugh I snort, which makes people stop laughing at something and start laughing at ME.  Of course, it is hilarious, which makes me laugh harder, but it does take its toll over time.

If I hear people nearby laughing I'll usually look over.  I'm not sure if it's my movement that triggers their own reaction of looking at me, but it seems that whenever I look, I notice someone look at me and then look away.  The reality is most likely that they saw me startle and look, reacted themselves, and then saw nothing out of the ordinary and returned to their conversation.  To me it feels much more sinister and often cements in my mind that they're indeed laughing at me and can't look at me because they don't want me to know that I know they're laughing at me.  It's a bit convoluted and...well stupid to be honest, but I work with what I have and sometimes it's not much.

To cope with my social paranoia, I simply cannot function in a social setting unaided.  I tried for quite a while and ended up just self medicating with alcohol and since I only drink to get drunk, I spent a lot of time forming friends heavily under the influence and don't remember half of what happened or was said.  That's never good.  Now I take .5 mg of clonazepam shortly before attending a social function and it's just enough to take off the edge without altering my state of mind or making me sleepy.  It does help immensely and I find myself able to enjoy outings in large groups or gatherings.

That still doesn't keep me from placing myself in a strategic location.  I hate having my back exposed.  If no one can sneak up on me, then no one can be sitting behind me and listening.  I can't be approached from behind and surprised.  I often startle when approached from behind, no particular reason why this is, but it happens and it tends to upset some people.  Even when someone comes up behind me while I'm being domestic in the kitchen and lovingly caresses or strokes me I flinch or jump a mile, depending on how absorbed I am.  I don't like being surprised like that.  It's just something I've learned that I have little control over.  I've tried to do it on my own and it doesn't work well.  I either blend into the background or get drunk.

I don't think there is much I can beyond what I'm doing now.  I do use a cognitive approach and expose myself as often as I can without devastating my mental state, but I sincerely doubt that I will ever be able to function unfettered in a social society.  My dream home is a secluded house in a very rural setting with access to a lake or river so I can swim.

The Black Hole

Depression has long been a friend of mine.  Even when I'm in a good place she's usually standing behind me, looking over my shoulder, and whispering her sweet nothings into my ear.  When I feel down, her arms are always open and waiting patiently for my return.  She never shames me or says "I told you so," she just holds me close and softly hums while I feel the tears dry up in my heart as it withers inside my chest.

With Depression in my life, things really don't matter.  I don't feel sadness and I don't feel joy.  If those enter my life they're admired and even mildly experienced, but it's so fleeting it's as if it didn't happen at all.  Good, bad, and all the things in between are viewed through this haze of apathy. I know I should care but I just don't.

We love to spend long days in bed with nothing but the covers and pillows to close out the infringements of the outside world.  I can sleep hour after hour in her arms followed by endless hours staring at the ceilings.  with Depression, nothing is what it should be, it's all mixed up and I want to change it, but the effort it takes is just more than I can possibly handle.  I'm so tired.  When I'm tired I can't function normally or with any resolve.

Life goes on around me and things pile up: laundry, food, dishes, a dirty house, and all the lists with one out of ten things checked off, lists made to guide and motivate and nothing more than a blaring sign of my failure and lack of ability.  All those important things that must be done in a timely manner in order for the world to continue, for children to thrive, and for me to improve, they all simply cease to have importance.

I walk through life in a bubble of goo.  Everything is slow and the bubble is tinted darkly so there is a hint of light that will sometimes show through, but when it does it's faded and tired, just the way I feel.

It's so easy to let myself slide backwards into a pit, a deep hole, where nothing truly matters and everything is peaceful and silent.  There I allow myself to stretch out fully and relax totally.  I begin to feel again, but the sensations are all wrong.  Instead of feeling relief I begin to feel a suffocating sensation of failure and loathing.  I've reached my bottom and in spite of reaching out for help, I find myself in the bottom pits of despair and cannot bring myself out.  Everything is gray and dreary, there is nothing I can do besides wallowing in misery and unhappiness.  There is no way out.  The walls of the hole are smooth and slippery with taunts of my uselessness and mistakes to make sure I can't get a good hold and make my way back out.

I long for the release of tears, a steady stream of pain rolling down my face while my body is wracked with sobs and wails of remorse, fear, and sorrow, but it's denied to me.  I cannot cry.I feel trapped and hopeless because the world is so remote and yet so looming and threatening all at once.

If I can get out of the hole long enough to participate in a normal activity, Depression follows at my heels reminding me of how worthless this all is and how each thing I do is nothing more than a drain on me and on my spirit.  I feel used and abused doing the things I'd normally done with such joy and verve.  As soon as the task is finished I rapidly crawl back into my hole and hide my head under the covers.  None of it matters anymore because even if I did do my best there would always be more to do and I'd have to do it over and over and over again forever with no thanks or appreciation.  I become a hollow shell dragging through life, just waiting for an opportunity to slip back into the comfort of my misery where I can truly be myself.

That's how it feels to be depressed in my life, and yet this doesn't describe the true depths of that pit I've termed my black hole.  It is a black hole, it sucks everything out of my life and leaves me feeling nothing but the negative and the bad.  Those simple things that once brought me joy are nothing more than a burden to trouble me and annoy me.  The only thing I can think of to end the pain is to wait for the inevitable end.