A few years ago, during a bout of seemingly endless unemployment, I took some freelance work proofreading college psychology text books. I’d taken one psychology course in college and loved it. But that class and an afternoon spent with my sister when she bought her very first DSM-IV and we self-diagnosed ourselves as post-traumatic stress disorder and separation anxiety disorder sufferers composed my only experience with psychology up to that point.<\/p>\n
As I perused multiple-choice self-exams and text boxes with little “Did you know?” factoids, I began to suspect there might be significant things wrong with my psyche. Like all good students of psychology, by the time I was finished with the project, I’d done some more self-diagnosis. And I was sure I had what is called “self referential disorder.” I don’t remember what it is exactly now, it’s been a few years, but it’s a form of paranoia where you think everything is about you. The songs on the radio? The DJ is playing them just for you. You see a sign on the side of the road for Weight Watchers and you are SURE they were put there just to torment you about those extra five pounds you’re carrying around.<\/p>\n
I’ve since become sure that I’m NOT suffering from this particular malady, but I have some empathy for those who are. Paranoia is self-perpetuating. The more paranoid you are, the easier it is to convinced that there is reason to be. I understand that.<\/p>\n