Paranoid much?

For most of my life I feel as though I have generally been well liked. People don’t seem to mind carrying on conversations with me or being in my company, at least for reasonable amounts of time.  Let’s face it: if you’re reading this, you probably think I’m at least good for a laugh now and then. There’s just one problem with all of that, and that is the fact that I don’t believe you.

Even if we’ve hung out since the first grade on one level or another, I second-guess your sincerity each and every time we talk, text, exchange emails or pleasantries. I have to spend at least a half an hour’s worth of inner monologue convincing myself that you at least probably like me more often than I get on your nerves. Even at this very moment mid-paragraph, my thought is that I’m probably about 50/50 concerning the accuracy of those daily prognostications about the regard in which you really hold me.

To an addict, absurd and paralyzing paranoia is as familiar as the sting of self-loathing or the crushing weight of our perpetual failure. I spend much of my time second-guessing myself; what in the world makes you think I don’t do the same thing to you? I question everyone’s intentions, motives and sincerity on a minute-by-minute basis. I suspect you primarily because I’ve spent a lifetime being suspicious of myself.

You do the math: nothing I do is ever good enough for my liking and it seems that nearly no decision of mine is 100% solidly fool-proof. Add a constant battle to not regard myself with absolute loathing and disgust and divide that by a factor of the false bravado that somehow tells me I’m probably smarter than a lot of people walking around and you get the jumbled and messy regularity of paranoia perfected as the sum. Remember the egomaniac with a self-esteem issue? That’s just my soul on a toasted Kaiser roll.

Smile and say hi? You probably don’t remember my name. Shake my hand? It’s just for show. You don’t go out of your way to “like” my witty Facebook post or “favorite” my awesome Tweet? Our friendship must really be on the rocks if you aren’t sitting around obsessing over my every move, huh? Give me a hug and ask me how I’m doing? Well, you probably want me to do you a favor.

Remember that there is no honor amongst thieves or addicts and that my mind is dealing with a decade of programmed responses to what would qualify in certain circles as over-the-top behavior.

Making peace with this inner demon is like wrestling a greased pig. Every time I seem to get a hold on it, something in my mind slips and makes me doubt everyone all over again. It’s all a product of my own insecurity and it sometimes just comes down to a fundamental flaw of my character. All I can do is (to quote Thich Nhat Hanh) smile, breathe and go slowly. I pray, meditate and am reminded that even if it is just for today, I’m all right and you probably are too. I also remember that it isn’t actually my business whether or not you like me. All I can do is the next right thing and the way you view me is your prerogative. It’s your choice to make and I have to make the choice to simply leave it at that.