Reprogramming

This should have passed in middle school, as soon as it started. Unfortunately, mental illness does not work that way. It does not take a magic pill or a counselor to reprogram your mind: It takes yourself.

Too Many Thoughts, Too Many

I was going to write about a previous experience or about the terrible state of our crumbling country. However, I put that in the back of my mind and decided on a simpler thought. Or a more complex thought, depending on how you view things.

Today, I did not have to work. The Fourth of July is in a couple of days and I am counting down the days until I can go ham on some white wine and brisket, courtesy of my boyfriend’s parents. I am working on knitting a crop top for the celebration. I am worried that it will be too promiscuous. Having a larger chest means making every shirt you have look skin tight and short, unless you like shopping out of the guy’s section (which I do a lot). I am debating if I should wear shorts or jeans, or if it will be too hot for jeans. The damn crop top isn’t even finished yet and I am worrying about these things. That’s just how I’m programmed.

I woke up around ten in the morning. The woman who pays me to babysit her three kids has just informed me that her youngest will not be there all week, so I am free for the week. It’s nice because I don’t have to make the trek to Burlington Junction but I’m also stressed because well, I need the money. I can’t handle a normal nine to five job. That’s just how I’m programmed.

My boyfriend is at work. He texted me twice this morning at 7:33 exactly. It was a response to something I said last night. It was introduced with a “Good morning.” No smiley face, no exclamation points included. This worries me. That’s just how I’m programmed.

I let Freya, my ferret, out of her cage. Powering up my Bluetooth speaker, I turn on Lindsey Stirling Pandora radio and try to calm down. My mom calls me. We talk. I eat some Cheezits and cookies. I hate myself for eating them. That’s just how I’m programmed.

My boyfriend finally texts me when he is off work. I ease up. But, this deep sense of anxiety and impending doom floods my soul. No reason, no rhyme. Again, that’s just how I’m programmed.

It’s like a rumbling cloud looming over you. The sky is green, there is lightning flashing and there is thunder in the distance, but the weather app on your iPhone says clear skies with a whopping dollop of sunshine. You look around. People are carrying on as if the wind isn’t picking up to a dangerous level. They are laughing, playing, driving. Hell, even one dude is enjoying a sandwich on a park bench. But, why? There is no time for sandwiches!! We must take shelter immediately! You try to alert everyone about the oncoming storm about to hit, but they all look at you like you have an identical twin growing out the side of your face.

Suddenly, the sirens go off. Tornado. You are now screaming, crying at people to please, please, please come with you to the tornado shelter. You can see it, you can feel it, a fucking car just got blown away, for crying out loud. Still, no one listens. Hyperventilating, you run, tripping over stray branches all the way to the shelter. You close the door in relief and peek out the window. Instead of seeing people getting ripped to shreds by a tornado, you see sunshine and clear skies.

This is anxiety.

I used to be able to leave my house. It’s almost impossible now. I used to get excited about going places. I used to love adventures and cruising around in my Chevy Malibu, windows down, bass bumping. My mind ruins everything for me. I cannot leave my house without feeling like I will get shot or kidnapped. I can’t help but think that everyone around me hates me or does not want me around. 'Go back inside, stay home,' the thoughts taunt.

My mother told me it takes time. It’s agony, forcing yourself to get out of bed, put on a clean shirt (if you’re feeling extra spicy, clean underwear), and go to class or the store. I am trying to do these things while keeping my hands and mind busy.

It took me four hours to leave my bedroom today. I wanted to stay home, but the nicer thought said, 'Go to the university library. It will be good for you.' I picked up a sandwich and a Monster and sat at a table and unloaded. There is an event going on here, which means too many people. Luckily, I can hide behind my laptop. My thoughts are racing. I want to go home. But, I have work to do. I can’t let these thoughts win. Let’s pray that this music written by a skinny White Soundcloud rapper can drown out my thoughts.

My counselor and my mother would agree: my brain needs a hard rewire, a reprogramming. I wish I could just stroll into Best Buy and stop by the Geek Squad department. Or, maybe I could get a lobotomy. Unfortunately, this is something I have to do myself. Through gentle nudging or a good kick in the ass, I can convince myself that I am not worthless and no one is going to hurt me. Soon, I will be able to get up in twenty minutes or less and put on a clean outfit, maybe even some mascara if I’m feeling up to the challenge. I can take showers every day. I can eat Cheezits and cookies without hating myself. Maybe I can even go on a coffee date with a friend.

The possibilities are seemingly endless once I get this hard drive on top of my head up and running. But for now, it’s running slow. Too many files, too many viruses, too many pictures litter my mind. One by one, they will be eliminated, and I will live on my own terms again.