ending a good week

My good week is almost over. There was this moment where I thought everyone was just messing with me and it was really Friday and not Thursday. I was coming back from a trip to the junk store when I made the last turn towards home and saw people’s trash cans were already out on the street. Trash is picked up on Friday. This really started to worry me. But it’s Thursday. Although, when I first got up I thought it was Saturday and I was thinking, wow, I stopped taking Elavil and that’s supposed to cause drowsiness, and started taking Zanaflex instead. I thought I must have had a really really strong reaction to the muscle relaxent or maybe it reacted weirdly to Topamax.

Anyhoo, I realized why I’d had such a good week, all things considered… I’ve hardly gone out, had very few interactions with other people. Trips to the convenience store and one to Dollar General hardly count as interacting with other people. I did go to Books-A-Million, but spoke to no one there and made eye contact with no one.

So I’ve been very happy this week. I haven’t had to deal with anyone but myself.

I was watching The Invasion the other night and there’s a scene where Kidman’s character is going to her office. There’s an SUV next to her and everyone in it is staring at her. Then crossing the street there are many people just standing there, staring at her. When she gets to the opposite side of the street and turns around, noticing the people looking at her, I said to the television, “I know how you feel.”  It’s a part of BDD, thinking everyone is staring at you.

And sometimes people are staring at me, and I don’t know why. In my head I just imagine the worst, but it’s not always like that. Sometimes I’m in an exceptionally good mood, feeling cocky even and I don’t mind it when I’m bouncing through a store and I realize everyone I look at is already looking at me. Other times though it makes me just want to turn around and run out. And I know I’m not always imagining it.

I was at lunch with my family. Parents, brother, his wife and kids, and I realized this woman at another table was staring at me. She was at a table with three other people, sitting a bit sideways in her seat so she could lean her back against this dividing halfwall rather than the back of her chair, I suppose to see everyone at her table better. I don’t know. I’m not overly fond of people who sit sideways like that while people are still eating. Save it for afterwards when everyone’s just having drinks and conversing. Whatever. This woman was staring at me. I told myself at first it was my imagination. I just thought she was staring at me and I was feeling self-concious because I realized I’d gone out without my glasses. I think they camouflage the shadows and discoloration under my eyes a little bit. Didn’t matter. I was with the family. Everything was ok. I told myself she was not staring at me. But I kept having to look that way because my sister-in-law and youngest niece were down at that end of the table and they were more entertaining.

The lady was definitely staring at me. Usually when someone is staring at me like that I just make eye contact with them. What happens is they’ll either smile and look away or they frown and look away. Whichever, they realize they’ve been caught staring and they look away. This woman did not look away. She was caught staring and she didn’t give a damn. She even got a little pissy about it. Without breaking eye contact with me, she said something to the man next to her. He turned and looked at me. Then the other couple turned to look at me. Finally, I think someone told her to stop it and she got annoyed enough with them to look away. But really, what was that woman’s deal? Why did she have to stare at me? Why couldn’t she stop staring? Was I such a train wreck she couldn’t look away? It was like she would be damned if she was going to back down to something like me, when she was clearly wrong for staring at me in the first place.

I have three bags of clothes to take to some charity drop-off. They have to go tonight. Mom’s maid comes tomorrow and I’ve drug them out into the hall. I don’t want them back in my room. All I have to do is take them out to the boxes in the wal-mart parking lot. No big deal. But I’m so concerned about someone being out, that instead I will probably just take them down to my building and put them in the back and worry about them later. I won’t go to the other charity place because I will have to go inside and tell someone I’m bringing it in instead of just dropping it off somewhere.

Next week I won’t be on my own anymore. I can’t just read books, or write them. I got the whole storyline sketched out for one. If I’m at home I’ll be interrupted every five minutes. [Once I was interrupted so frequently I was unable to watch a ten second video. Seriously. I would start the video and be interrupted before a few seconds had played. See to what was wanted of me. Go back to the video. Have to stop it again. Start it over. On and on until I finally gave up. A ten second video!] It will be back to my every day existence of being judged by other people and being found lacking. Letting them down. Failing them. It’s not enough I fail myself. I wake up every day to failure and end each day with disappointment, and that’s when I’m alone. But next week I get to share it with others.

I think maybe I’ll try some of the techniques they give in CBT. Trying to overlook my defects. Find something physically that’s not disappointing.