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10/15/2002 Entry: "Doesn't Mean They're Not Out To Get Me."
Why was everyone on the train was staring at me this morning? My fly was closed today; I checked. Did I have a zit, and Pustulio was commanding them? What?
So many people seemed to give me nasty looks; I didn't know what I'd done—besides existing—to offend them. I passed the muffin shop on my way in, and I'm sure the proprietress saw me walking by and noticed that I thought about buying one and then snubbed her. But I couldn't go back then, or else everyone around me would notice that I couldn't make up my mind. Besides, I was sure people in the department would already be talking about how late I am to work every morning so I had to hurry. Either they look at me when I walk in, silently judging, noting how many minutes past nine it is, or they patently ignore me, trying not to let on that they're keeping track, or just trying not to make eye contact with that freak.
A higher-up is in from the east coast this week for our user testing, and she walks past my door to meet with my boss in his office. She barely glances my way as she passes by with a cold expression. I suspect they're talking about me. "Is he really pulling his weight around here? He seems lazy, and he's always surfing the Web instead of working. Don't you think we could fire him and get someone to do his job for less pay?" I don't know what they decided—maybe I'm on an unspoken probation for today, which is why they didn't come in and turn off my computer and tell me to pack up my personal belongings, they'll mail my last check minus all the hours I've been so obviously slacking.
At this point, I said to myself, Okay, Brain; STOP.
I wish I could say that my brain never works this way, but occasionally it does. This morning the paranoia was as bad as this, but at least it was obvious; when my thinking is that blatantly illogical I can discount it. I worry, though, that maybe it never really disappears; it just becomes so subtle that I don't notice it.
I've debated with myself all day if I really wanted to post this, partly because I don't want people to think I'm insane; partly because I'm sure some people think that about me already and I don't want to give them more ammunition to mock me (somewhat paranoid thinking;) and partly because the moment's gone, so this is kind of pointless. It's alright, Ma, I'm only crazy.
I don't know. Am I crazy? Maybe. Maybe it was just a rough morning. But then again maybe I'm perfectly sane, and it's all just my hypochondria talking. A model of sanity, I am.
Replies: 4 comments
You aren't paranoid honey, or insane, or crazy. I have my days exactly like that. I don't know anyone who doesn't. Could be a combination of things, or just one thing.
Of course, if they really are out to get you, then you aren't paranoid.
Smooches, and hugs
Posted by Vince @ 10/16/2002 09:14 AM PST
You've probably heard the old mental health hotline joke . . . it's an automatic voice mail that says, "If you're obsessive compulsive, press 3, repeatedly . . . if you have multiple personalities, have each one of them press a number between 4 and 8 . . . if you are paranoid, don't press anything . . . we've been watching you for a while and we know exactly where you are. We'll be by to pick you up when you least expect it.
Posted by William Ted @ 10/16/2002 11:24 AM PST
Here's something I heard recently: "You would be so concerned about what people thought about you if you knew how seldom they did."
Posted by Timothy E. @ 10/16/2002 01:24 PM PST
Indeed—As Oscar said, the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.
Posted by Casey @ 10/16/2002 04:55 PM PST