SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

My mind works in mysterious, often frightening, ways. Case in point: I am extremely paranoid.

If someone is supposed to meet me somewhere at a certain time and they are late, I start to call their cell phone. Incessantly. And if they don’t answer, I automatically assume the worst. The person was in a car accident! Or worse, attacked on the way to see me and lying beaten and helpless outside in the dark! Or maybe the person was kidnapped and is being held in a cold, dark, dirty, underground room against their will!

Once, when my boyfriend didn’t answer his phone (because he always has it on silent for some bizarre reason) after I had called it about 20 times and left several frantic, crazy messages, I ran out of my building into the night in search of him. I found him walking home from the store, to buy me candy, a short while later. Instead of being relieved, I freaked out at him (with good reason, I still believe) for making me worry. He still pulls this shit, and I still freak out, but he tells me I should be used to it by now. Well, one day he may just find himself trapped in a cold, dark, dirty, underground room begging for help and wishing he had his cell phone ringer turned on, and then who will be the crazy one? Huh? HUH??

Another example, if I happen to send an e-mail at work to a client with one misspelling, or one letter of a word missing, I automatically assume this means I can pick up my last paycheck and head to the unemployment office. What? You say I’m only human and everyone makes mistakes? Well, not me! So what that I just secured a million media impressions for you? I forgot the “i” in media! This usually isn’t as bad a situation as I make it out to be and while I spend the rest of the day obsessing about it, my boss is trying to comfort me and calm me down. If I don’t already have a cluster of ulcers in my stomach, it won’t be long until they appear.

If I sent you an e-mail yesterday and you haven’t yet written back, I’m pretty sure you hate me and are already talking smack about me behind my back. If I’m hanging out with a group of friends, I’ll automatically notice that people aren’t talking to me as much as they are talking to other people (this may have something to do with me being slightly delusional as well) and think that everybody hates me. You didn’t say hi to me when you saw me at the opposite end of the the hall today at work? A logical person might think that you just didn’t see me, but I assume that I did something to upset you and you don’t like me anymore. I could, sadly, go on, but I think you get the point.

You would think that between all this and my irrational fears (parts 1 and 2), I would have found myself a good shrink by now, and a prescription for some Xanax. With refills. Can anyone recommend a good doc?