Paranoia. Is. A. Motherf*cker.
In my own life? I’ve had to drive a reeeeeeally hard line between
- Annoyed, by what is really going on.
- Paranoid, afraid of what MIGHT be going on.
I use 2 things to differentiate.
1. “The Seatbelt Rule” = I am ABSOLUTELY allowed to both wear seatbelts AND respond to passing thoughts IF AND ONLY IF I am as emotionally involved as when I put on a seatbelt. IE, I’m not. At all. Ever. It’s a baseline safety precaution. So if I get a weird feeling and want to do a quick perimeter check? Sure! No worries! As. Long. As. I. Take. A. Step. Back. No emotions. No tweaker constantly checking blinds, or running out into the night after ghosts, and stray fancies. Sweep. Secure. Alls well. Not spinning myself up. As there is a difference between listening to your instincts and being a slave to them.
2. If it’s real? I wouldn’t be afraid/angry/suspicious/emotional. I’d deal with it. Shrug. Full stop. So??? If I am afraid/angry/emotionally involved? It’s not real. It’s WHAT IF, that I’ve gone and made “real” in my head. Which is bullshit, and feeeeelings creating a lack of situational awareness. Which can f*ck right off.
That SECOND one…. Is what most vets relate to. Oh. Duh. OF COURSE. If it were real? I’d be fine. The first one, most supporters blink-blink-oh, about. (Because you don’t lose your everlovin mind putting on a seatbelt, even though its ONLY purpose is preventing injury, maiming, and death. They don’t even stop kids having screaming, hitting each other, knock it off or I am turning this car around! fights. Seat belts only purpose? To prevent bloody, screaming, terrible death. Click. Unclick. Click. Unclick. A dozen times a day. It’s a freaking seatbelt, not the end of the world. I’m a parent, and a combat vet with PTSD, so I use both to direct my internal compass.
^^^ So that’s ME ^^^
Dealing with OTHER PEOPLE’S paranoia? I’m f*cking bad at. Because it is HEARTBREAKING, gutting, shredding, worse than finding out someone is cheating level pain… to not be seen/known for MYSELF. To be someone else’s fear-muppet (shaped like me, but animated by someone else’s nightmares, rather than my own self; seen, loved, irritated by, whatever. But ME. I’m NOT me, when “I” am what someone’s fears tell them I might be. I’m just not. That’s them). I have left every. single. person. in. my. life. who has done this to me EXCEPT my kid. Both because he’s MY kid, and because I understand what’s happening, and know it will pass. I hold adults to waaaaaaay higher standards, than kids. An adult doesn’t see ME, but sees their own fears? They can f*ck right off. Until they’ve learned the same durn lessons I’ve learned AND choose to apply them. Kids? Free pass. Because I’m the grownup, it’s my job to absorb those blows. And still be there.
So the good news/bad news is that I’ve been through it, and figured out a way around it… but have very little useful info to share for living with someone else’s. As the only person’s I’ve been willing to ride though? Is my kid’s.