Paranoia?

Tuesday, June 3rd

I’m not going to start writing with a pitiful “Dear Diary.” This isn’t even a diary. This is just something my therapist recommended I start doing, so here I am. I think it’s cheesy, but she said she was going to follow up with me about it, and I’m a horrible liar. She might even ask to see it. What a trip that might be. I’m supposed to journal for at least 20 minutes a day. That seemed excessive to me - why not just 5 minutes? But as I’m writing, I realize 5 minutes really isn’t a whole lot of time. I wouldn't have anything of substance on the page in just 5 minutes. I don’t mind the writing itself, but I don’t think it’s going to be some magical cure. I already know Dr. Howard is going to use this against me. That’s right Dr. Howard, are you reading this? I’m going to write down what I’m really thinking, just like you said, and then you’re going to use it as “evidence” to force me on pills or live in a co-op or lock me in the looney bin. The only reason I even started therapy anyway is because I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut. At my last annual physical, I went through that whole survey thing they give you where they ask you stuff like “do you worry often” and “do you feel like something awful will happen” and blah blah blah - you know how it goes. I honestly didn’t even think the nurses took that stuff seriously. Then all of a sudden doc comes in and is like “it sounds like you’re struggling,” and I just broke. I didn’t even know that was in me. I told my mom about it and she’s like, “Julia how could I have missed it, my sweet baby.” And once mom knew, she was on my case: “When are you starting therapy? When are you starting therapy?” So here I am. I love my mom to bits and if it helps her sleep easier at night, I’ll write down all these silly words. For day 1 that’s not too bad. Already at 22 minutes. Sayonara

Wednesday, June 4th

When I got home from work today, there was a huge U-Haul in my parking spot. How rude. This is my house and of course I want to park in front of my own house. What kind of person parks directly in front of someone else’s house? Like they couldn’t at least split the difference with the house next door? Guaranteed whoever drove that thing did it on purpose just to piss me off. I parked partially in front of my left neighbor’s house, but they have a driveway, so they’ll be fine. Perks of being in the corner house I guess. I don’t have that luxury. Crazy how their street has houses with driveways and garages and the one just perpendicular (aka my street) has only street parking. What city engineer came up with that? But no use griping about it now. Can’t really unsign a mortgage. While I was eating dinner, I saw the parking spot culprit through my window. It was a man coming out of the house to my right, maybe 30 something, and he was patting the back of the closed truck like he was saying “that’ll do.” What a typical man thing to do. Call me petty, but when he drove off I immediately moved my car up to its rightful spot. If this dude is going to move in next door, he’d better learn quickly how things are around here. It wasn’t until almost dusk that I saw him return. He stood on the porch of his new house and looked in my direction with this smirk on his face. The dude’s house is almost identical to mine. Why did he look at mine as if it were so beneath him? The only logical conclusion is that he was checking for vulnerabilities. He already knows that when my car isn’t out front, I’m not home. He’s probably planning to rob me. Ever read a book? Everyone would immediately suspect the new guy, genius. Well he’s not going to pull a fast one on me.

Thursday, June 5th

Work was annoying. I was busy the entire day doing good, honest work, but my boss kept asking me what I was up to and how I was handling everything. I don’t know why she doesn’t trust me to do my job. I’ve always gotten everything done on time. Denise probably said something, maybe that I was “off-task.” She would, wouldn’t she. Gosh I just hope this won’t affect my performance review. I need that raise, that meager 3%. If Denise is sabotaging me - oh I’ll find out. To make matters worse, when I got home, a huge truck was in my parking spot. That thing had 6 wheels. For what? Trampling over the treacherous suburban lawns? I was so irritated! That new neighbor again, no doubt. I parked in front of his house and slammed the door loudly out of spite. I made sure to glare into his front window so he knew I was pissed. I don’t know if he was actually in there or not, but I could sense beady little eyes on me. There are some people on earth who were put here just to trouble me. Even now, as I’m writing, looking out my window, I see the neighbor on his back porch drinking a beer. What he should be doing is mowing that awful lawn. From my vantage point he could be in the jungle for how high the grass is. I, on the other hand, keep my lawn neat - even have a small garden in the back. I grow a lot of vegetables. You never know when the next wildfire is going to obliterate California or the USDA finds out pesticides give you cancer. The more in control I am of what goes in my body, the better. Same reason why I won’t take any pills from Dr. Howard. I’ve got enough common sense to actually listen to the commercials and know the side effects. Big Pharma can try to sway everyone else with their saxophone playing, big wave surfing, pickleball swinging actors all they want. Drugs will kill you. But then again, I don’t know if this journal is doing any good either.

Friday, June 6th

Well today was something alright. First, Mr. Neighbor was standing next to my car when I left the house to go to work. He’s all like “I noticed your tire was flat, so I filled it up for you.” Does he think he’s some saint now? My tires were not flat, first of all, and second of all, he was just passive aggressive because I was parked in front of his house. He must have gotten the message though because my spot was clear when I got back. Denise and I both had to sit in on this meeting today and it was boring as all hell. Our boss said it would be “a learning experience”, but I swear Denise’s brain didn’t fire a single neuron during the last hour. I was dragging when I got home, and I couldn’t find my keys. I cursed up a storm on my front porch because I never leave without my phone, wallet, and keys. But the key to my front door wasn’t on my lanyard. Maybe it could have fallen off, but how does that even happen? More likely someone stole it while my purse was left unattended at my desk. I should call to have all the locks changed next week; that’s a priority. Thankfully I have a key to my back door as well as a spare to the front, but I’m not going to give away its location that easily, Dr. Howard. I’ve gotten into quite a groove with this writing thing. I don’t feel any less anxious, but this fits quite nicely in my routine.

Saturday, June 7th

It’s only mid-afternoon, but Saturday’s are for being lazy at home, so why should I wait until the end of the day to write down my thoughts? Guess who showed up on my porch today - Mr. Neighbor. He pretended to be amicable, talking about “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Jerry.” Jerry. Like the cat. (Or is it the mouse?) His eyes darted all over the place, constantly looking over my shoulder. My first impression of him was right - this guy did want to rob me. He was scouring my home for anything valuable, and he thought a little “hello” would let him in so he could survey all my possessions? Yeah right. I was kind enough: told him a bit about the town, which markets were overpriced, and where to get the best cup of coffee. He asked me if I knew any good home improvement companies to help him install some insulation. I don’t know what gave him the impression that I would know anything about that. I’ve lived here for 3 years and I never really thought much about home improvement. The place was move-in ready when I bought it, and I didn’t have to do a thing. It made me think, though, about what might be slowly crumbling away without my knowledge. Sleeping on the top floor suddenly feels less appealing since the roof could theoretically cave in at any moment. Anyways, Jerry bantered on for a while until it became obvious he was overstaying his visit. My neighbors have always been very “to themselves,” like me, and that’s how I like it. Wait until everyone else gets a knock on their door from the new guy. Good grief.

Sunday, June 8th

The strangest thing happened today. It’s Sunday, so it’s grocery shopping day. I know what you’re going to say: “don’t you have a garden though” and blah blah blah. Well you can’t grow a cow in a garden now can you. So anyways, I’m at the market and who do I see but Jerry. I should’ve told him this market sucks. What was I thinking? But that’s not the strangest part. When he saw me, he came up to me and was like “hey I found this on my driveway; is it yours?” and it was my key! So Denise didn’t steal it (sorry Denise). Seeing the key in his hand made me sweat; what if he had been in my house while I was shopping? Sure he was also shopping at the same time, but he could have waited for me to leave, gone in the house, and then followed me here to play the “helpful neighbor" bit. I took my key back, acting relieved, but my brain was already preparing for the thorough comb-through of the house I’d be doing when I got home. Now I know what you’re going to say, Dr. Howard: “that’s the anxiety speaking” or “you’re just being paranoid,” but that’s a load of crap, and I’ll tell you why. When I was inventorying everything, I noticed mud on the carpet of my living room. I never, and I mean never walk around the house in my shoes. I always leave them by the door. I don’t have a dog; I don’t have my windows open for some animal to come in; I don’t have plants that could fall over and leave dirt. There was an unmistakable, mangy brown spot on my carpet. Someone had been in my house. I’m certain they’re gone now. I made sure of it. I can’t help but feel Jerry was the culprit. It’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it?

Monday, June 9th

I was almost late to work because I couldn’t find my hairbrush or my deodorant anywhere. I searched for ten minutes in my bedroom, bathroom, closet and any reasonable place I may have put them before giving up. I didn’t have time to put on one of my usual button-ups, so I threw on a shirt that could maybe pass as formal if you didn’t look too long. I put my hair in a messy bun (but that’s kind of “in” now, right?) and a heavy dose of perfume. I made it through the work day unscathed, but of course when I got back, a huge van was parked in front of my house. I wanted to slam my head through the steering wheel. At least the F35000 was parked where it was supposed to be. Jerry must have found his insulation guy because there was his van, right in my spot. I parked behind it, choosing not to lose my mind. See the progress I’m making, Dr. Howard? I can be calm. My calm didn’t last very long though because the most annoying neighbor in the world started waving at me as I was unlocking my door. He did an awkward half jog, half shuffle up to the edge of my porch. He had pit stains and was breathing too heavy for only having covered maybe 10 yards. He made some rude comment (but he probably thought he was being cute) like “I didn’t know accountants wore business casual these days. You’re pretty lucky.” What a prick. It wasn’t until I started writing this evening that I realized: I don’t think I ever told Jerry I was an accountant.

Tuesday, June 10th

Anxiety is not a disease. Paranoia has a real purpose. I worry about very reasonable and logical things. Jerry doesn’t ever seem to leave his home. He’s there when I leave for work, and he’s there when I get home. He always has some comment to make when he sees me. Today it was “A/C bill’s gotta kill you in the summer. You should open your windows at night to let in the cool breeze.” I don’t need your advice, Jerry. I told Dr. Howard about it, and you know what she said? She said she thinks Jerry has a little crush. Come on! I have done nothing to garner this man’s interest. I think he’s creepy. Maybe when men reach their mid 30’s and they feel their options are getting slimmer and slimmer they flirt with any woman that has a pulse. She said my anxiety and paranoia are inhibiting me from forming a healthy relationship. Well she doesn’t know Jerry. And just for that, you only get 10 minutes today. Ha.

Wednesday, June 11th

I started reading and reflecting on my entries from when I started this a week ago like Dr. Howard recommended (those minutes reading are counting toward my total, thank you very much). And wow, I sound absolutely deranged. It’s like I’m reading a lunatic’s diary. At least Dr. Howard didn’t ask to read it. Each entry sounds so scatterbrained. If I didn’t write all my thoughts down, would I believe that I did actually think them? Do other people see me this way, the way I see myself in these pages? This is like a weird out-of-body experience. Now I’m wondering if Jerry really is just interested in me. Am I that afraid of letting someone in that I’ve villainized him for no good reason? All I know is that the old me needs to chill out.

Thursday, June 12th

It feels like I'm in a sappy junior high movie. This afternoon when I got home and opened the mailbox, there was a folded up note inside. “Dropped by but you weren’t home. Maybe next time.” I instinctively glanced over at Jerry’s house when I read it. There was an accident on the freeway today, so I didn’t get home until about 30 or 40 minutes later than normal. Jerry’s truck was parked in front of his house, but the lights were off and the shades were drawn. There was no way for me to know if he was in there for sure, and I was not just about to knock on his door. As I write this evening, I’m trying to be conscious of my thoughts and feelings (gag). I called my mom today and told her about the whole Jerry potential crush thing. She was absolutely over the moon, telling me I should give it a shot. I guess being a loner into your late twenties without even a history of a love life has that effect. Could I really be losing my mind over nothing? Could a genuinely nice and friendly guy move into the house next door and it be completely innocent? Does every kind word have to be a threat in disguise? Dr. Howard, I hate that you’re making me think philosophically. It’s like a feather pen is tickling my brain. But I’ve decided. Tomorrow I'm going to stop by Jerry’s after work and ask him about the note. Maybe he’ll be bashful and cute about it. If it was even from him. He didn’t sign it. But who else could it be? No one else ever drops by. Ever. But that’s that then. Hopefully this doesn’t blow up in my face.

Friday, June 13th

Saturday, June 14th

Sunday, June 15th

Monday, June 16th

Tuesday, June 17th

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“Yes, I have a key. This is her place. Oh, Dr. Howard, do you think something awful happened?”’ Julia’s mom bleated as she opened the front door of her daughter’s house. “You probably know her better than me now honestly. What are we even looking for?”

Dr. Howard scanned the small kitchen and found a moleskine notebook with a pen placed neatly on top. It was exactly what she expected it to be, and as she read the handful of entries, the color began to drain from her face. She has made errors in judgement before, but this one might be unforgivable. She looked over the tops of the pages at the quiet, shuttered house next door.