Irrational Paranoia

I am irrationally paranoid about a number of things. I don't mean I'm paranoid that people are after me. Strangely it is the traditional sorts of paranoia to which I am most immune. I don't live in the best area and yet I am not worried about getting robbed or stabbed or shot. I don't worry about walking home at night in the dark. I don't think that there are fantastic and elaborate government conspiracies to cover up aliens or that the only reason we vaccinate children is to make pharmaceutical companies rich. I also don't concern myself a lot with things that could be considered rational paranoia, such as if, for example, there really are people after you. I'm pretty poor, I don't have a lot in the way of savings, it would be relatively rational for me to be paranoid about spending money or losing my job, neither of these things bother me (largely because I choose not to think about them.)

But in the world of irrational paranoia the things my mind comes up with are fascinating. I work in a mall and every night the janitor runs a giant noisy buffer over the floor. The floor is consequently nice and shiny even if not particularly slippery. And yet I have two persistent fears when walking across it. My first fear is when I come in from the rain or snow and the soles of my shoes or boots are wet. I always think that my shoes are so slippery that I am going to slip and fall on my butt despite the fact that I have worked at this place for over a year and not once in that entire time have I slipped and fallen- at all. Never mind actually there. Not at all. Anywhere. My other persistent fear when walking across that same floor is that the world would experience a sudden loss in friction and we'd all be screwed. Gravity would still exist so we wouldn't float away but without friction we'd all be stuck on the floor, unable to move without some hand-holds or serious magnets and conveniently placed ferrous metal. But on the plus side if you did have one or the other it would be really easy to drag yourself along without friction working against you.

I live between an airport and several hospitals and yet I cannot block out the sounds of planes and helicopters. Helicopters especially bother me. I grew up with planes flying overhead so maybe that's the thing. You see, every time I hear a helicopter I think not that it's probably LifeFlight or something hospital-related or even a rescue-related thing but that they must be looking for something. And one of the only things it's easy to look for by helicopter (other than lost people) is marijuana plants. So I start becoming paranoid that these helicopters are equipped with heat-seeking equipment and they could right now be looking at a little blob on the screen that is my heat signature. And that scares the crap out of me.

I'm not afraid of heights, falling, or crashing in airplanes but I am afraid of cars. Of course, arguably, I do have a good reason to be afraid of cars. Mile-for-mile cars are far more dangerous than airplanes. But I'm not afraid of driving in cars. I'm afraid of other people hitting me with cars. And not just hitting me in a normal situation such as if I'm jaywalking or something. I mean I am afraid that parked cars will suddenly roar to life and back over me if I walk behind them. I'm also afraid of getting hit by cars in places where the cars would have to go out of their way to hit me. When I walk down the street that goes to the church that I always walk down to get to my apartment (upon which I never meet any cars) I constantly worry that there will be a car and that it will hit me. Or I worry that when I'm on the sidewalk a car is going to jump the curb and hit me even though that would be both difficult and not at all accidental.

I am deeply afraid of leaving my wallet somewhere other than exactly where I want it to be. Some goes with my keys and my cellphone. On a normal day I check six or seven times to assure myself that they are in my pockets or in my bag before I leave my apartment and then I check two or three times immediately after leaving and another dozen times on my way to work or wherever I'm going. While I'm in stores or approaching the check-out line I usually check another two or three times for my wallet. And on the way home I check a couple more times. Sometimes I can convince myself not to check since I've checked so many times already but as I check so often every day it's hard to remember the individual times I've checked in a particular day- the checking just blurs together in my memory so I end up checking even more.

Identity theft is something that scares me to the point that I do not use automatic teller machines. I once saw crime show where a enterprising thief installed a device on top of the normal key-pad of a ATM that looked just like the ATM keypad but recorded the magnetic signature of every card that was slid through along with the personal identification number that went with each card so that the thief could make withdrawals from those accounts later. If I need cash I almost invariably get it by getting cash back at the grocery store by where I work or, if I need a significant amount, I go inside the bank. I am terrified of identity theft even though I don't have much to steal. I have zero credit and a bank account that hasn't seen four digits in six months.

People laughing. When I hear people laughing my first thought is that they're laughing at me. This is entirely irrational because there are so many other, better things to laugh at. There's awkward laughter and nervous laughter and joyful laughter and bitter laughter and humorous laughter. I might occasionally be something to laugh at (usually intentionally or at least I hope) but I can't be amusing every single time someone laughs in my vicinity. Yet somehow, in my mind, they are always laughing at me.

Considering how rational I attempt to be in my every day life when making considerations in my life (example: I needed a haircut, Cheryl offered to cut my hair for free, Cheryl has cut people's hair before, she also promised not to cut it so short I couldn't have it fixed if I didn't like it, ergo I concluded I should let Cheryl cut my hair) I suspect that being a little irrational about things that aren't going to kill me is probably okay.