Well, I think I’ve finally done it. Scaled the heights of neurosis and about to go to full blown psychotic. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration…;But only just slightly. My mind keeps flipping channels to see where my anxiety will land. It’s about time to sign a new lease, and per usual, I’m imagining them saying, “we’ve had complaints…we don’t want you.” Then my social worker tried to do some sort of unannounced visit, and I keep wondering why. Instead of asking her, I imagine she’s trying to take me off the program that allows me to be able to live here. But now my mind is convinced I still have bed bugs (it could be fleas, or hives, or disease…and I’d take all of the above before bed bugs). Every year, I think I see a nymph. Last year, I thought I saw a nymph in some apple cider vinegar I sat out to catch gnats. This year I thought I saw one in some dirty laundry as I was about to load the washing machine, but convinced myself it was a a spider, Something is going on with my skin. My back especially, but everywhere is itchy, and delusional parasitosis has come back. Sometimes it feels so real and nothing there (Bed bugs are so light, you probably wouldn’t feel one crawling on you, but my mind is fucking with me). I saw bubbles in my urine today. Take heart, Lisa, I said to myself. Maybe it’s just your kidneys are failing. Or maybe it’s covid, or maybe it’s both.
Part of me can logically trace back every fear to past trauma. Fear of homelessness, fear of being put in a home, fear of losing everyone and everything. I don’t think it will ever end, If I live to grow old, which I kinda doubt since I’m 235 lbs and covid is popping off fatties left and right, I’ll still be paranoid.