I suppose the last time I wrote about my paranoid myself, I thought it was just a tiny part of me that was activated in certain situations. That it was really the situation, you know.
And it's only recently that I realize, it's not a part of me, paranoia is me. And no, I don't intend this as a joke. Humour isn't really what's on my mind nowadays. Though I sincerely hope, that someday, I can look back at these troubled times and laugh out loud at myself and my fears, which will be amusing then. A little like how the day your best friend said she didn't want to be friends with you anymore in class IV and it seemed like life was the worst thing that happened to you.
The first time a friend of mine said to me, “Perhaps you are a little too anxious. May be you should get help”. I laughed. I thought it was just him and his "counsellor self" that was getting a little too creative. And I don't know what came first, me feeling anxious or the label of being anxious. Did him mentioning it actually lead to the realization or it's creation? But all throughout, it has been funny. My first visit to a psychotherapist had a part of me telling myself, “Haha, you don't really need this. But you may be better off if you got help. You're okay without”
At first, there was a feeling of anxiety and I always managed to put a face on to my feeling. I had a good reason to be anxious, or worried or just sad. But it was usually phases. And the problem was never me. It was always other people. Or so I thought. It's only now that I realize that there is perhaps, a problem. I still wonder, was it the label that brought this upon myself? Or did it actually give me an opportunity to sit back and be honest with myself? May be this will be a chance to confront my deepest fears? Ideally, a psychiatrist can help. But I'm thinking, if I can can get through this by myself, then may be I won't dread living so much. Life won't arouse so many fears, so many worries. For there is nothing more serious, nothing more scary in the world, than losing your mind.