Self-Sabotage

Subconsciously, I am a self-sabotaging anxiety ridden idiot. Other lovely qualities include OCD, hypochondria, periodic episodes of depression and mild dementia. I do it to myself. I get a chest pain that probably stems from the garlic-filled dinner I had the previous night before and officially declare it a heart attack. In the mornings, I buzz around like a lunatic out of breath while noticing I had just drank about two cups of the strongest coffee ever, which brings me straight into a panic attack. After counteracting the effects of the java with a couple of magical ativans, I simply ask myself: is it safe to venture out into the world? I feel too tired. I feel listless and exhausted. And then I have the nerve to say, “I have no idea why I’m exhausted,” followed by a, “It’s another sign of a heart attack.” It’s a vicious cycle I through more than I would like to admit.

After one of these lovely episodes, my fridge is filled with nothing but organic greens, veggies, soy products, salmon and other things that would prepare my heart for any chemical warfare. Then there’s Twitter. Stupid as this sounds, I am following, “Swineflulatest”---self-explanatory really. I’m finding out that even cats are dying from the swine flu and just how many people have just kicked the bucket over this latest pandemic. But luckily, last night as I was reviewing their tweets, I had found an article they had posted up that said that if you had already received the seasonal flu shot last year, then this will prevent you from getting the swine flu in the future. I know, it sounds absurd since there was no swine flu mixed into the ingredients of the flu shot last year, so I’m still a bit leery. Aside from my laziness, I refuse to go to the gym I just signed up for months ago because of this swine flu breakout. It all started when I noticed people not washing off their machines after use. I know I could wash it off myself, but I don’t want go near it with a ten foot pole, no less wash it off without a surgical mask and gloves. Let the staff do it.

I have way too many fears which is preventing me from living a healthy and normal life somewhat, but I do get my share of going out and braving it. While taking the subway with my friends not too long ago late at night, I had to hold onto a disgusting and slimy pole in order to keep my balance. The train was full of people with booze seeping out from their pores and other mysterious odors. I tried to keep it together, and I must say I did well, despite the ugly experience. I tried telling my psychiatrist about my problem(sssssss), however he’s more amused over my stories rather than be ready and willing to make some suggestions. Or maybe I’m missing the whole, “psychiatric discover the solutions on your own” type of treatment he may be giving me. I walk out of his office as if I had just finished an entire ‘lie down’ comedy routine. I’m not sure why I pay him. Maybe it should be the other way around.

Another thing I’m noticing that's raising my anxiety plus eyebrows, is that ever since I’ve been heading into the city more, I’m discovering that there are more unisex bathrooms emerging. I’m not even talking about just “one” bathroom for anyone who needs to use it - like if you were at someone’s house. I’m talking about a huge bathroom full of 20 stalls and 5 urinals. No offense guys, your piss stinks. I love men, but they really know how to mark their territory. Anyway, as I wait for a stall, I see all of these creepy men walking out. Do I take the stall they just came out of? What do I do? Is it rude if I don’t head in after him? So out of fear, I walked into the stall right after the creepy man used it. Oh and of course, the toilet seat is up. This is where I wish I had brought a surgical mask and gloves with me. Not only does it stink like cat piss, but I had to grab toilet paper and drop that seat down like it’s hot. Then, I noticed the floor. It was completely wet. Not only was it wet, it was a goddam puddle. Is it too hard to lift your little Peter to point and shoot? Since I’m a levitation kinda’ girl in public restrooms, how does one try to not get the bottom of her pants wet? Do I lift my pants while holding them down at the same time, levitate and try to balance - it’s like doing fricken yoga on a tightrope in a stall. I walked out of there with the bottom of my pants soaked with piss. Those puppies came off right when I got home and straight into the washer. My boots sat in a puddle of rubbing alcohol overnight. Too much ya think?

It’s a dirty world out there and hell if I’m not going to vent about it. Even going into the grocery store has my anxiety at an all time high. I use my sleeves to push the carts. Those handles are germified to the max. You don’t believe me----watch an episode of 20/20 about it. They put the blue light on the handles of grocery carts to find that there was even fecal and urine matter on those handles, let alone spit from kids.

I just wrote myself a post that will have me hiding in a bubble for the rest of the year. Why do I do this to myself? I just sabotaged any plans I had made for the day.

Now you know the process of my self-sabotage techniques. Use them wisely.