I just got back from shopping; and it was the weirdest shopping trip ever. I'm used to seeing some lookalikes...But today I saw a twin for everybody, including myself; which has never happened before. I saw the future lookalikes for you, sis, as well as Geoff; I saw twins for each brother, and Mom, and an aunt...It was pretty bizarre.
And it gets weirder. My late stepfather has an identical twin, with the same name. The mother of my mom's boyfriend has a twin, with the same voice and accent. My mom's boyfriend is said to have at least five twins. And you can't tell me you don't see a teensy bit of a resemblance between Patrick Stewart and Ian MacKellen.
Coincidence...maybe some things are. But all? I think the mothers or fathers of some of these people committed infidelity at one point or another.
I mean, my twin wasn't necessarily my twin. She didn't look exactly like me, which is fortunate for her. She was probably older, with longer, better hair; a prettier face, a stockier build. Taller, of course; because who isn't? But it was like looking into some weird mirror with the ability to foretell the future. She sort of looked right through me, like I was invisible; which only made it seem more real.
I have lived here most of my life. I traveled way too much; and yet, I'd never seen any of these lookalikes before. Now I'm sur- rounded by them.
And still, it gets weirder.
I saw the next best thing to Shamy. (For all you regular folk, that refers to my favorite couple ever, Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farrah-Fowler. Sheldon, Amy. Shamy.) He wore a hat of some sort, but I could totally see it. I actually stopped cold and just...looked, like some creepy stalker. She was flawless. Her hair color, her nose, every little detail was exact. I just wanted to throw an arm around them, smile for the camera, and Tweet my heart out.
It was the strangest sensation ever, looking at the pair...And I thought my last journey to Seven Oaks would be unmatched. I could see fog, and smoke; but it didn't move or fade. It just hung there, perfectly still; like I was moving toward a hologram, or like half the world was a photograph. I'll never forget the feeling I had, seeing that. Like something was horribly, horribly wrong, and I was being taken further and further away from it, and couldn't go back.
I don't know.
Personally I guess I'm just too anxious. I finally get what my family has been trying to tell me. I knew I was depressed, but it was sort of a slap in the face to be put on antidepressants. Yet there I was, curled up, wondering when I'd be shot or stabbed each and every time a person walked by me. Wondering which helicopter passing overhead would be the one to drop the bombs. That was me at lunch. That was me on my birthday. That has been me, every day since grade school.
I'm trying harder to tell myself not to sweat the small stuff, like my dental X-Ray tomorrow. It seems a simple procedure, and it's nothing I haven't had before. I take my medicine, except on busy days when I absolutely need a clear head...The medicine doesn't really hit me until the following day, so naturally there is no hope for a routine. I either sleep well and live my life in complete shambles, or run myself into the ground trying to live the routine of those around me. Let me tell you, neither choice is appealing.
But I've been talking myself into doing hard shit, because I know I need to grow up and do them. It's the worst thing I've ever done. I fear everything. I fear people. I fear myself. And above all, above flooding toilets and above hanging spiders, I fear dentist appoint- ments. They send me into panic attacks. They make me sweat, shake and wish I were dead.
But it's just an X-Ray. The real terror is what comes after it. I have nothing to fear; tomorrow's the easy part. I've said that thousands of times and I'll keep on saying it, but I just don't know if it'll make a difference.
And it gets weirder. My late stepfather has an identical twin, with the same name. The mother of my mom's boyfriend has a twin, with the same voice and accent. My mom's boyfriend is said to have at least five twins. And you can't tell me you don't see a teensy bit of a resemblance between Patrick Stewart and Ian MacKellen.
Coincidence...maybe some things are. But all? I think the mothers or fathers of some of these people committed infidelity at one point or another.
I mean, my twin wasn't necessarily my twin. She didn't look exactly like me, which is fortunate for her. She was probably older, with longer, better hair; a prettier face, a stockier build. Taller, of course; because who isn't? But it was like looking into some weird mirror with the ability to foretell the future. She sort of looked right through me, like I was invisible; which only made it seem more real.
I have lived here most of my life. I traveled way too much; and yet, I'd never seen any of these lookalikes before. Now I'm sur- rounded by them.
And still, it gets weirder.
I saw the next best thing to Shamy. (For all you regular folk, that refers to my favorite couple ever, Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farrah-Fowler. Sheldon, Amy. Shamy.) He wore a hat of some sort, but I could totally see it. I actually stopped cold and just...looked, like some creepy stalker. She was flawless. Her hair color, her nose, every little detail was exact. I just wanted to throw an arm around them, smile for the camera, and Tweet my heart out.
It was the strangest sensation ever, looking at the pair...And I thought my last journey to Seven Oaks would be unmatched. I could see fog, and smoke; but it didn't move or fade. It just hung there, perfectly still; like I was moving toward a hologram, or like half the world was a photograph. I'll never forget the feeling I had, seeing that. Like something was horribly, horribly wrong, and I was being taken further and further away from it, and couldn't go back.
I don't know.
Personally I guess I'm just too anxious. I finally get what my family has been trying to tell me. I knew I was depressed, but it was sort of a slap in the face to be put on antidepressants. Yet there I was, curled up, wondering when I'd be shot or stabbed each and every time a person walked by me. Wondering which helicopter passing overhead would be the one to drop the bombs. That was me at lunch. That was me on my birthday. That has been me, every day since grade school.
I'm trying harder to tell myself not to sweat the small stuff, like my dental X-Ray tomorrow. It seems a simple procedure, and it's nothing I haven't had before. I take my medicine, except on busy days when I absolutely need a clear head...The medicine doesn't really hit me until the following day, so naturally there is no hope for a routine. I either sleep well and live my life in complete shambles, or run myself into the ground trying to live the routine of those around me. Let me tell you, neither choice is appealing.
But I've been talking myself into doing hard shit, because I know I need to grow up and do them. It's the worst thing I've ever done. I fear everything. I fear people. I fear myself. And above all, above flooding toilets and above hanging spiders, I fear dentist appoint- ments. They send me into panic attacks. They make me sweat, shake and wish I were dead.
But it's just an X-Ray. The real terror is what comes after it. I have nothing to fear; tomorrow's the easy part. I've said that thousands of times and I'll keep on saying it, but I just don't know if it'll make a difference.
I think anxiety and depression are normal . . . if not, I don’t know any normal people. I know of several who can’t get through a week without crying; I know of several who have tried to commit suicide; I know of several who have panic attacks . . . all that’s me, too. I think I knew I was getting worse when I stopped thinking about rape and murder, or I should say, stopped caring what happened to me. I could stand in the middle of an empty room, totally blank, not wanting to do anything, and know it wasn’t normal, and not care. I go through periods like that, so happy for no reason, then miserable about everything. So you aren’t alone there . . . maybe it’s not exactly the same, but maybe we’re both crazy . . . ?
ReplyDelete“But I've been talking myself into doing hard shit, because I know I need to grow up and do them. It's the worst thing I've ever done. I fear everything.” You definitely aren’t alone in that. What really sucks is that doing things you don’t want to do is something no one can actually help you with, or do for you (wouldn’t it be easier if they could!). There are a lot of things I don’t like doing, but I know I have to. Sometimes it helps to know other people are going through it, too. I hope the antidepressants help you with all this . . . and talking helps, (at least it does me) so feel free to talk to me anytime :)
Talking about growing up, were you talking about something besides the dental?
I know it's normal to feel fear or anxiety towards scary stuff, but sitting in a restaurant shouldn't be one of them. As for depression, I knew I had it for many years, and I knew the antidepressants were coming; but it was still sort of a shock. I guess I'm just waiting for the day when people start seeing me differently for taking them. And, I might add, thank you for still talking to me, despite knowing about that. I appreciate it. I think, however, this is my last Blogger comment for today; at five-something I took my sleeping pill. (I hate that term. It makes it sound like the pill gets to rest, instead of me.) It never hits me until the day after I take it, so I just want to try different things until something works.
DeleteYes, I was definitely talking about more than just dental work. But that's a big, big, REALLY BIG part of it.