Paranoia is a mental health condition characterized by persistent, irrational, and excessive suspicion and distrust of others. Individuals with paranoia believe that others are intentionally trying to harm, deceive, or persecute them, despite a lack of evidence.
Symptoms can include:
Intense suspicion and distrust of others
A belief that others are plotting or conspiring against them
Fear of being followed spied on, or harmed
Difficulty trusting anyone, including family and friends
May make false accusations or withdraw from social interactions
Causes can include:
Genetic factors
Brain chemistry imbalances
Trauma or stressful life events
Certain medications or drug use
Underlying mental health conditions, such as schizophrenia or delusional disorder
I debated on writing this one for a while. It gets extremely personal and embarrassing at parts, and I thought it would run the risk of whoever reads it finding me just as crazy today as I was back then. I mean, I’m still me, and they’re my learned experiences, but I handle it better these days and haven’t had any of these symptoms in years. So bear with me as I pour out some of my past, hesitantly so.
For the better part of my life, my mental health troubles went undiagnosed. As a kid, I struggled to understand why I was the way I was and why no one else was this way. There were signs my entire life that something was different, unlike anyone else. I couldn’t pay attention in school, I acted out and pushed people away because if I did it, then I wouldn’t have to worry about them doing it first. It was easier that way. If I had gotten the proper attention, I don’t think this would have ever been a thing.
This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone what I dealt with because I was afraid of being taken away from my family. At that age, I didn’t know what would have happened to me, but I knew it wouldn’t have been good. I didn’t have a trusted person to talk to and work through this. I was on my own. I think that’s what made it so hard to deal with. I felt crazy. Totally insane. So instead, I bottled it up inside myself. I think this is also why I tend to bottle things up and shut down to this day.
If you’ve seen the movie The Truman Show, then you know it was about a guy whose every aspect of his life was being recorded without him knowing. My grandmother took me to see this movie in theaters when I was 12. It was entertaining enough to watch, but it quickly became something more… sinister as time went by.
Within a week or two, I started to believe there were cameras everywhere I was going. Focused on me, just like Jim Carrey’s character. I believed there were recording devices on my TV and radio. The songs I would hear on the radio, I thought they were directed at me. One example is embarrassing, but I feel I need to show how bad it was. There is a song by Sheryl Crow called “Soak Up the Sun.” One of the lines was, “Jack off, Jimmy, everybody wants more.” When I was that age, I was just figuring out my body. No need to go into detail, but I took that line as I was being watched and was being made fun of. I stopped that exercise for a long time. That’s how far gone I was in this delusion, and I had no one to turn to to get through it. I was stuck in this hell for years.
I’m not sure where the paranoia ended, but one day, it did, and I wasn’t worried about it anymore. I wasn’t consumed by these thoughts anymore. I could listen to the radio without thinking it planted commentary on my life. I was able to walk down the hall of a new building without checking where all the cameras could be. I could be me as much as possible. I do feel I lost years of my life when this was going on because I was so worried about all this exhausting shit. I feel like this was one of many events in my childhood of trauma that I think stopped me from developing as a person. Thankfully in my 30’s I started to learn.
Mental illness can take many shapes and forms and can come and go as it pleases. Thankfully, I’m on meds that help me manage these symptoms. I haven’t had any high levels of paranoia since then. I wish I could say there isn’t stigma after all these years, and I know I’m going to get hit with it after this post, but being open helps me. And maybe someone else. I put it out there into the universe and can brush it off as another chunk of my life that I don’t have to carry alone anymore. The takeaway that I hope can be gained from this is that if you feel like something is wrong, say something. Ask for help. There are people out there who can help. I wish I had that when I was a kid. There are more offerings than ever to get help and work through things like this. Don’t be like me and almost be 40 before you talk about it or ask for help.