A paranoid outing

My madness. It’s skipping around in my brain, pulling wires, giggling about “wonder what this does?”, as it tugs harder on said wires.

That’s the kind of day it is.

My husband and I went out to take care of some shopping and whatnot on his day off. I dutifully dressed myself, fixed my hair, and put on my customary little bit of liner and mascara. If I must go out, I like to at least look ok. I tied my shoes, strapped on my belt, and I felt ready to go.

We got on the road, and then it started happening. The paranoia, that funny little bit of my madness that enjoys popping up unannounced…so rude. My brain began to tick. Who was watching me as they drove by? Do they know I’m paranoid? They can clearly tell I’m frightened, I’m sure of it. At stoplights, I simply knew that they were at least briefly tapping into my brain.

As we pulled onto the turnpike, I was greeted by the lush, green trees on either side of the pavement. Too beautiful to look away, I stared in wonder. I’ve always adored nature. Suddenly, the trees were listening in on my thoughts as well. Damn it. The trees listening in doesn’t frighten me in the same way that other humans do.

I’ve never been much of a people person. Quite frankly, I’m a bit of a recluse. I don’t mind being home, by myself. I don’t mind quiet days, with the sounds of the birds in our backyard. I love the company of certain people, my husband most of all, my family, and I love chatting with my friends online. Face to face has never been my jam. I get nervous. They can tell something is wrong. I know they know because I’ve been asked often, and still get asked, if I’m doing ok. I fidget. I look around a lot. I stumble over words. Am I forming the right expression? Am I laughing or answering at the right moments? What even is coming out of my mouth half the time? These are all things I worry about, and whether these things are true or false remains to be seen. Super social awkwardness and fear.

It’s not that I don’t wish to give them my full attention, I just get so nervous. Nervous about what? I’ve never been entirely sure. I’ve always been called introverted. Stuck inside my own head. To be fair, it’s quite distracting inside my mind. At times I find it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.

That’s just the way my brain functions I suppose. I write better than I speak, therefore I write. In recent years, my fear of other humans has increased, I’m not sure why that is. It is what it is. This is the way life is now, and that’s ok. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself. It works to calm me for the most part.

There is nothing wrong with not having many human connections, so long as we feel fulfilled by those we cultivate. That’s what I’ve been told by various therapists, anyway. I believe it, too. For me it has always been about the quality of the relationship, and not how many I have. And that’s ok. I find comfort in silence, in quiet, in calm. I find solace in books, in art, in self-expression. I have a fulfilling life, and though it may seem extremely dull and boring to others – it’s perfect for me. For this, I’m grateful.

After coming home, the paranoia faded more to the background. Now the outside is on the outside, and there are no strangers hanging about. The trees in our backyard are friendly and provide protection. I feel at home in the privacy of my house. A safe haven, my comfort zone.

Stay insane, friends


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