Afraid of the dark: A tale of crazy

I'm currently sitting on the couch at my grandmother's house, watching 19 Kids and Counting, and perusing the world wide web at 1 a.m. During this time, I have read two complete blogs (by that, I mean blogs that I discovered today and read from the time the writer started them to the most recent entry). I think it's kind of like the reality TV phenomenon; there's just something so fascinating about learning intimate details of other people's lives. If you're fascinated by that kind of thing too, you're in luck. I'm about to admit a whole bunch of details.

Anyway, the reason I am up this late, and with all the lights on, is that my grandmother is spending the night at the hospital with my grandfather. He fell this morning and had to be taken to the hospital for tests. He's ok, they just kept him overnight to be sure.

So, I haven't gone to bed because I have this weird phobia about staying in houses overnight by myself. That's right, I'll admit it: I'm 26 years old and afraid of the dark. Only when I'm alone though. And even then, I'm generally ok as long as I'm in an apartment that's not on the first floor. Geez, reading all my specifics on this issue makes me sound a little crazy. But it is what is, at least for now. I don't think I'd be so scared if I had a dog here with me either. But I don't.

I have a WILD imagination. I always have. I event all these crazy scenarios in my head that are very, very unlikely (on the flip side of that, I'm hoping I can channel my imagination into my creative writing, but lately I'm having trouble making myself spend that much time in front of the computer since I'm already in front of it for work all day). And now, it doesn't help that part of my job is to read police reports. When I first started working at a newspaper a year and a half ago, the other reporter, who had been there 30+ years, was the most paranoid person I had ever met. Now I can see why. I take weird, OCD precautions for my safety all the time. Which probably aren't all that effective. Some people would call it borrowing trouble. I need to stop.

Some of this stems from having my house broken into last year. I had trouble sleeping at all for about a month after that happened. And I have still not, since then, been able to go to sleep without at least one light on (not in the room where I'm sleeping). I sleep with a kitchen knife next to me, and I always have my phone and my car keys right there in case I need to call 911 or make a quick escape. I know all of this stuff is irrational, and I'm realizing it more as I write about it. But if I don't do all these things, I can't relax. Now that I'm staying with my grandmother, when she's gone for the night (like now), I sleep on the couch. With the TV on. If I stay in my room, I feel like I'm trapping myself in a corner. And tonight, for example, I've resigned myself to the fact that I probably won't let myself go to sleep, or restful sleep anyway, until 5 or 6 a.m. See, by that time, people are already waking up to go to work and I don't feel so alone. All these embarrassing quirks are what keep me from watching crime shows (which I actually love) and scary movies (which I couldn't care less about).

I really don't know how people live in houses alone, with no dogs. Hell, even with dogs. There's no one there to convince you you're crazy when you think you hear something. Even if it's just an illusion, there's safety in numbers. I have no desire to ever have a house by myself.

Ok. I'm going to stop now before I cross over into COMPLETELY crazy land. But I have to say, it helps just to get all of this out of me. It consumes so much head space sometimes that I think what I needed was just to expel it from me.

Nevertheless, I see a serious nap in my future tomorrow.