Wezi
Thamm Rule of Thamm
PARANOID? MOI?
There was a time when there were just two little voices that
spoke in my head. If I was tempted to do something not quite right, one voice
encouraged me while the other tried to talk me out of it. But these days,
a third voice overshadows both and, although I do not let it take control,
sometimes it is hard to ignore.
This is the voice I blame for my ever increasing isolation; the reason (I
tell myself), I don’t return phone calls from old friends; the reason
why I don’t party like in the past.
I am not as carefree as I used to be. I also have slight rash that, to my
eyes, looks like scaly lizard skin and makes me wear long sleeves on blistering
summer days.
I suppose the third voice was always there, but the news of an HIV diagnosis,
medication, side effects and things you hear people say all feed that voice
and make it grow louder.
It is the voice that makes you wonder why that person on the bus looked at
you in that way or for that length of time (in reality, probably all of two
seconds). The voice convinces you it is because of all the weight you have
lost. Or perhaps, it says, there is something in your face that shows you
are co-habiting with a deadly virus.
Of course the voice of reason feebly tries to suggest, well maybe it is because
you have a nice hairstyle... But then the other voice chips in and asks why
my girlfriend, who sees me almost every day, suddenly comment on my good diet?
She said how I had really slimmed down. Pause. Was there some veiled suggestion
there? I guess what she really meant was, “You’ve gotten kind
of skinny!” Does she see something I should have noticed? Maybe it wasn’t
such a good idea to get rid of all the mirrors.
Just when you think you have forgotten all your insecurities and agree to
meet friends for a festive drink, you find those trousers that were a perfect
fit are now loose in the wrong place and won’t zip up at the front because
that’s where it looks like the mass has moved to.
Don’t make that mistake, the one where you look at yourself sideways
in a mirror and realise: ‘Oh God! When did that happen? Where did that
belly come from?”
As you think about joining a gym that voice chips in again, getting louder
now, wondering if you have also developed a buffalo hump and you are the last
person to notice that you have turned into Quasimodo.
And last week wasn’t there rather lot of hair on the comb? Do I need
to invest in a wig?
Then I recall a recent conversation with someone who said my face looked swollen.
What if others have seen my swollen face and not said anything? Maybe that’s
why the discussion in the kitchen suddenly stopped when I appeared. Maybe
that’s the reason why the lady at the civic centre would not look me
straight in the eye; maybe they found out somehow. How confidential is confidential
these days?
The story of the ambulance driver whose brother worked for an insurance company,
whose wife worked for a bank, where a loan was applied for and turned down
because the patient turned out to be a client who had not disclosed certain
information, does not seem so far-fetched anymore.
I hear you. It’s possible, it’s all possible. I agree with the
voice.
Well it looks like I won’t be going for that Christmas drink after all.
I can’t. I don’t have a thing to wear. Reason tells me I am being
paranoid and I really want to believe that. I am often the first person to
tell others not to be so paranoid.
But it feels safer and less agonising if I just stay in, read a book, watch
something good on TV, take my time to prepare and cook something, open a bottle
of wine and that’s an evening killed. Nobody will notice that I am not
there anyway.
There is that voice again: “Did you say wine? Maybe not a good idea
as you take your medication at night. The wine could stop your pills working
as well. That could cause a chain reaction in your body and things could start
going bad. You wouldn’t notice immediately but you could build some
resistance...”
Stop! I am not listening anymore. Sometimes I can brush it away and try really
hard to ignore it but, sometimes that voice makes me feel angry because I
let it control my moods and certain aspects of my life.
I have stopped listening for now. But it will start up again, unexpectedly,
creeping up without warning...
