Doug and other anxieties

The week has not come to a peaceful conclusion.

Catch your breath,
Hit the wall,
Scream out loud,
As you start to crawl
Back in your cage
The only place
Where they will
Leave you alone.

Doug, the amiable bloke next door who appeared to be “quirky” on the first day, “a little strange” on the second and “downright weird” on the third has devolved into the housemate from hell by day eight. My theory (or which I am 95% sure) is that he is doing some kind of drugs and that the showers he takes aren’t showers at all, but in fact just him turning on the water to ensure I do not enter the bathroom while he does goodness-knows-what as he talks on the phone (and at times, yes, to himself) or lies on his bed (presumably) with the door to the bathroom open to ensure good ventilation for the smoke that would otherwise stagnate in his shoebox of a room. I know this because I can smell the smoke, I can tell he’s in his bedroom when he’s talking on the phone as the shower runs, the fact that he flushes the toilet while the shower is running, and the fact that the shower curtain doesn't move from one shower to the next nor does the shower head, which was pointing at the wall at one point. Last night the shower was running for an hour and a quarter and while it was only around dinner time, and hence not sleep-disturbing, it was still pissing me off nonetheless as I sat in my room watching TV and dwelling on all the strangeness in which I now find myself. I should point out, by the way, I have no issue with drugs being consumed. If he wants to take them then he is big enough to look after himself. It is the being woken at all hours by running water and the fact that by the time night falls there is not any hot water left that I take issue with.

There have been other incidents and evidences that indicate he is a few cards short, however I doubt that any of them would actually hold up outside of my circle of friends. I don’t want to complain because to be honest I just don't trust the guy not to hit me or set my room alight or something of that nature. Dad suggested encouraging him to think of the room as a shoebox in the hope he makes a move himself. This isn't an entirely ridiculous plan since the room is, and I promise I’m not exagerating, the same size as the laundry at my parents’ place.

This afternoon I decided to move my wardrobe in front of my door to the bathroom in an attempt to muffle the noise of his ostensible showers and his awful music from wafting unbidden into my space.

Locked inside
The only place
Where you feel sheltered,
Where you feel safe.
You lost yourself
In your search to find
Something else to hide behind.

So tonight, as I was attempting to go to sleep, I was dwelling on this issue and some others that have been on my mind during the week. As a consequence, I had an anxiety attack. It wasn’t pretty. Since the bad trip, I have had another major anxiety attack apart from tonight’s so I am a little worried, to be honest, that this may be a new and interesting symptom of something else under my medical belt. After I calmed myself I tried once again to fall asleep but my mind obstinately returned to the issues that are worrying me as I felt my pulse quicken and my breathing became shallow.

You don't know why they had to go this far,
Traded your worth for these scars,
For your only company.
And don't believe the lies
That they have told to you. Not one word was true
you're alright, you're alright, you're alright.

As some of you may already know, anxiety (and at times depression for that matter) has the uncanny knack of warping one’s thinking to the believe that ultimately if one cannot do or have something, that the world will end and one will die a horrible, nasty death (at least in my case, since on a good day I am petrified of death). The idea that everything can (and in all likelihood will) end in disaster is paralysing. I turned on the light and the laptop and decided to write a little about it in order to prevent it...it’s worked too, I feel much better. I realise that the things I’m worrying about haven’t gone away and that I still need to do some legwork to fix things up, but at least I can do it calmly, without fear of apocalypse or an untimely death.