Today My Hands Are Blue

Today I’ve been obsessed with my hands, specifically my veins. They look strange to me, too blue. My hands look strange to me, bony, famished, veiny, and bluish. I think I need to drink more water. Well, for the fact I know I need to drink more water. Everyone tells me so. But here you have one of many obsessions that creep up during my bad days. I never know what pit my mind might fall into. Today are my hands and the strangeness of them. Although they are not strange at all, at least that is what my wife tells me. But my mind tells me otherwise and it sees what it wants to see.

My objective is to convince my mind that it indeed is false in its perception. Yes, it is strange to talk about my mind as a separate entity from me. But, it’s like my mind is split in two. One split is my mind that stands on its own, outside of me. The one that creates realities that don’t exist. The other split, the one that still lives to some degree in reality, the one that keeps on arguing the other one’s opposition, that is the one that is me.

It’s like having two opposing voices in your head continuously arguing. At times one wins. Another time, the other wins.

So, yeah, my veins seem strange and too blue. But, I’m hoping that the jigsaw puzzle pieces scattered on my bed distract me from my obsession, bring me back to reality, and I’ll forget all about my veins, my hands. I hope all of this happens before paranoia takes over and before I have a full-blown panic attack. The association between paranoia and panic attack is not related but it’s the fight for control that sets off the panic. Losing control sets off the panic. Because when I’m paranoid, I’m just in that state. But when I realize that I am experiencing paranoia and might lose, that fight forms into a panic. Plus, the actual paranoia of something threatening to my life may also set off an alarm in my head. Such as having blue hands, which causes the belief that there is something physically wrong with me, which causes the belief that I may get sick or die, which causes the panic to set off. It’s a lengthy ordeal inside my mind, and it persists, and it endlessly loops, until I break the pattern, until I realign the tracks, or until I introduce a new unrelated object that takes my mind off my hands.

A trick that tricks the mind. The simplest the trick, the most potent antidote. Please, no Rubik’s cube or chess. Unless you want to fuck with my head.