I Am Paranoid

The picture above is a somewhat humerous take I took on this idea, that we are our own worst enemies.

Sometimes Chief Broomden reminds me of myself. I am not in a mental asylum, nor do I use similes every other sentence, I would however characterize the both of us as paranoid. Of course the chief takes the gold for how extreme his paranoia is, but I can really let my imagination run. I had never literally hallucinated until I was put on morphine in the ER about two weeks ago. Some people really act out, or describe cartoon worlds, I brought myself to tears thinking that a “convention of terrorists were coming to get me”. My parents laughed, videotaped, and had my at home medication switched to a lower dose. I don’t remember much from that state of the injury, but it must have been pretty real in my mind to have made me cry. Then again, I have brought myself to tears while sober as well. Once I was so convinced the man wearing all black at the front door was a kidnapper that I ran barefoot to the neighbors in the snow. Multiple times I have seen a scary movie or heard a story that haunts me so much, I sleep in a brother or parents room. I even devised a trap when I was little placing a little piece of paper on top of the inside of my closet door; if anyone came into the house and was hiding in my room, I would know instantly by the fallen piece. Growing up every night I have checked each door two to three times. If I babysit past 1am, I have to have someone on the phone with me while I drive home because I have myself convinced someone will walk out in front of my car, or jump from the back seat. This is chagrin though, those things do not happen here, right? Although sad, I find it so interesting that at times, we are our worst enemies. I wear myself down by constantly worrying about getting taken, or coming home to my home invaded. For what? To give my brothers the inspiration to jump out and scare me at every given chance, and for my parents to only watch scary shows when I am not around. The whole thing is such a burden and so unrealistic, and I know it, so why can’t I stop it? I have been told it’s just my anxiety mixing with my imagination but still, what a powerful thing, the mind. My mind and how paranoid I have become may be the worst enemy I ever actually face. I guess that’s where me and the chief connect, we make things up in our minds, and let them grow until we actually believe them. Don’t get me wrong here, I am not psychotic, convincing yourself there will be a snow day until the point of turning off your alarm is very similar. But in all aspects, the mind proves so powerful. This book had really opened up my mind in considering what qualifies as insane. We are all paranoid, imaginative, seemingly crazy people, so why are others held captive?