unlock the mind

I don’t want to be repetitive but as I mentioned before, I have this unnamed phobia of being left alone in the house; any house. And because I mostly work from home, I often find myself in this dreaded situation. The moment the door closes, I instantly panic! The scenarios of all horror/thriller books and movies I have ever read and seen come marching in my consciousness in rapid succession. If I run out of written and filmed ideas, I conjure up some myself and believe you me; I’m pretty good in that. Being a first row spectator all my life, my characters are so vivid and real I believe them with all my heart. My mother said I always have an over active imagination. I wonder if that is a compliment or an insult.

Because of my condition, I rarely sleep. Pills don’t work their magic on me. I tried herbal teas as well, warm baths sauna swimming hiking massage sex, all to no avail. One time out of desperation, I tried to combine all of them at once. Never again! Too much stimulation. (btw I was writing this in bed after I swallowed two sleeping pills and with no decent sleep for the last 3 consecutive days) I never talk about my condition to anyone. The reason for this is I don’t know how to tell my story without sounding hysterically funny. Seems I have this gift of downplaying my emotion and laughing at myself. So, I shut up and suffer in silence.

I’ve been to a psychiatrist. Once. The first and last time I reach out to seek help. He accused me of having third world mentality and luxury problems, whatever that means. Needless to say I never repeat the visit. I don’t want to end up with more trauma than what I already have. Besides, I can rationalize or guess diagnose more or less what I am suffering from. I think the right term is PTSD. Only mine is never been “post” to be a syndrome. But how the hell I know, I’m not an expert.

Sometimes, I’m willingly calling myself paranoid, when having just another day in paradise episode. It meant to be a joke but it hurts! Only I refused to admit it. But the truth is it governs my life, and my self-imposed solitude doesn’t help much either. Another thing is I just acquired a physical condition that keeps me in bed at times on ends. Great exercise for my over-active imagination, lying immovable in bed, all alone.  Probably that’s why I’m blogging (is it the right term?) to lessen the mental (or is it emotional?) pain.

Well, I’m  going to stop right here because I have an inkling that I’m spitting gibberish. I just hope that I’m coherent enough to be understood…

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