The inescapable pranoia of paranoia.

When people ask me, what are you scared of? I often reply with answers such as; earwigs, maggots or the dark. The kind of answers you’d expect really. The truth is,my fears run much deeper than just just being a bit freaked out by a tiny invertebrate. I think I have paranoia of paranoia, and that I’m not actually paranoid. I am scared of the psychological implications of being paranoid and terrified of loosing my mind. This is not at all an irrational fear, I have a perfectly terrifying and emotive reason for it. I do panic though. Daily. Just as Jon Ronson struggled not to panic that his wife might be dead because she missed a call in the book The Psychopath Test.. but that isn’t craziness it’s just fear. These are the real fears. I don’t think it’s the fear of death either, it’s the fear of being helpless. At least for me that’s what it is…

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…And when you have to spend 40 minutes on a bus for a ten minute car journey… sometimes those “life goes on” moments help, sometimes they just frustrate.

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I hold my dreams

I woke again last night for the third night in a row…

The book

9th January

Moments before I became consumed by dread I had the book in my hand. I could feel it, its physicality, just like the note. The pages were darker around the edge, yellowed and slightly curled, brown around the corners; reminiscent of the darkIMG_5756ened veins of a dying autumn leaf. The weight of the book appealed to me, it felt comfortable, as though it might be mine. The text illegible yet the spine had no more cracking to do, I must of known these words. No sooner did I begin to recognise, did fear wrench open my sleeping eyes. Waking trepidation, just a book just a book… I could still feel the weight of it in my hand. Quickly as this dread began it vanished. Lull. I drift back.

The paper

16th November

A chill down my spine was what prompted me to wake up, although I hadn’t realised I was still asleep. Sat bolt upright like a newly reanimated corpse, I began to flail ungracefully in a half arsed attempt at retrieving an important document that I’d apparently misplaced. What did I do with the note? It was in between my fingers only a moment ago, I felt the corner pricking my hand as it bent into my palm. Frantically searching underneath the blanket, throwing it from side to side whilst almost dancing as I sit stretched legged. Frowning and with my fingers purged between the cold heavy cushions I realised I’d lost it. I thought to myself that maybe I’d left it there. But where did I mean? I’ve only been right here! The whole scenario became immensely confusing. I knew I needed it, I had written something incredibly important on this piece of paper, and I know I had it only a few minutes ago. Panic stricken and baffled I ceased the search for the remarkably important document and laid back defeated; feeling concerned that I may not be able to continue. What would I do, how would I get through the day?… Then it dawned on me that I’d never had it in the first place. It was only 7:15am so I shut my eyes again.

Why have I began to leave this paper trail an why do I fear it so?

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First day back after Christmas… My normality confirmed.

So just to sum up yesterday; I became spontaneously neurotic and battled intermittent bouts of anxiety until the early hours. Sleep had become redundant and a deep and irrelevant level of serious doubt about the future set in. What is the deal with back to work blues? Two weeks off for Christmas and I felt like I was ready to give up on everything. It was such an over powering and pointless feeling. Its times like that which really make me doubt my sanity, giving me all the more reason to almondmebe anxious. So I thought to hell with this, I’d get an early night so I could be bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow. It was a good plan but totally ineffective. I laid waiting for the night to end, only to decide enough was enough, there would soon be alarms and a painfully forced departure from the land of nod anyway. So I elected to drag my sorry carcass into what could only be described as… the night, yes it was still the fucking night! The morning is supposed to be bright and fresh, well I might as well of been launched into the armpit of Satan. I hadn’t seen 6:00am for more than two weeks and even one of my eyes had rebelled against this and decided to deny me my sight! After regaining my sight, some pure will power, porridge and coffee I was able to leave the restless abode and plunder nervously into my first day back after Christmas.

I don’t know what I was expecting of today but that would have been a pointless venture nevertheless. Foresight for today was like peering into a void, hence the anxiety… and please bare in mind the last time I saw my colleagues I was horrendously, I mean tragically drunk! Apparently I was climbing over tables, jumping in puddles, I called a teacher a prick and the next day I had some savage bruises. This might not sound bad but I am nearly 30 and I work in a school. It’s just a good job the principle had gone home already! Anyway, I’d been regretfully early for the bus this morning as it was so cold, but on the plus side my monthly bus fayre had been reduced by four pounds. The bus took almost an hour and made me late. It did however provide enough time for one of my colleagues to fill in the blanks of my drunken escapades before Christmas. We arrived at work in the middle of a meeting, not thinking to apologise and pulling a face like a kid caught stealing from the fridge at night; at this point from behind me (I’m trying to sneak in, in crouch mode and wearing a significantly orange jacket!) she apologises and puts me to shame. Damn you Monday! After releasing the awkward turtle and telling everyone how much wonderful nothing I did over the holiday it was time to remember what I was doing there in the first place… I wasn’t there for long before I discovered that it was not only myself that failed to sleep and suffered anxiety last night. There are more like me, my normality had been confirmed I need not worry today.

A point on no longer being a smoker: Getting on the bus after work smelled like I’d blanketed myself in a chain smokers net curtains! Did I smell this bad five days ago?.. no body answer that. I would really like to refrain from being hypocritical but the degree to which my sense of smell has returned has been very unexpected. It has in fact been fairly distracting also!

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About posting… and why.

As this is my first post I thought I might introduce my purpose…

The things I tend to notice are generally incredibly insignificant and quite abstract, yet are equally as relevant and thought provoking to me. These pointless curiosities however seem to have little purpoIMG_3866se and get lost. This may be because I am very used to having an external brain space (studio/sketchbook/pin wall) and means for reflective thought. It’s been a while since I have, and it has become apparent that it is necessary for my functioning. Without it I am not entirely complete because my external brain serves to log these observed insignificances as they arise. Sometimes I have a real brain to mouth problem, intermittently I really to struggle to converse and accurately say what I mean. I just need to express myself really, and make my pointless everyday observations seem a little less pointless I suppose. For instance, addressing that many of the dismissible occurrences of the everyday seem to be purposefully overlooked by each of us because we don’t have time or wish not to concern ourselves with others. Even so much as not to bother smiling back at someone, saying good morning and choosing not to sit next to someone on the bus. What are these barriers and why do we all dislike each other so much! While everyone is spending their time in their disconcerted self-indulgent solitude, with their phone and unpromising attitude, unaware of each other, I observe them.

An outlet and purpose does this blog provide, daunting as it is.

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