Pros and Cons

When an unexpected brown paper box sat on my front step, my first thought was That it was a test from my therapist. I had started seeing Dr. Magee about three years ago after my boyfriend left me due to anxiety and post-traumatic stress taking over my life. It took him leaving for me to realize I had a problem.

You see, I have issues with not knowing what’s going to happen. My mind races with thousands of different scenarios until I’m too anxious to function due to the uncertainty of the outcome. It often results in me staying in bed for days, trying to forget my very existence.

Dr. Magee says that I need to learn to let go of my need for control, but the whole problem is that I have no control, I wish she could see that. Something as simple as doing the dishes becomes a runaway nightmare when my mind reaches the scenario of me accidentally breaking a cup in the sink, thus slitting my wrist and bleeding out, my body will end up rotting in the dirty dishwater before anyone finds me… and that’s one of the mild scenarios.

so naturally when I saw this box, my mind started racing with what could be inside. maybe there was nothing inside the box, maybe it was simply an empty package to test me so that Dr. Magee and I could talk about how I handled it during our next session. I inched closer to the box to inspect it.

other than my name and address there were no other markings on the paper, no stamp, and no returning address. That most likely meant that whoever left this here hand-delivered it. When I picked it up, there was a solid weight to it, dismissing the idea that the box could be empty. My heart raced. I shook the box, there was a minimal sound when I shook it, leading me to think that whatever was inside the box filled the majority of it.

Maybe it was a cake? But that made no sense, there was no reason for anyone to give me cake, my birthday was months ago and there isn’t much to celebrate in August.

I could just open the box, but what if it was a bomb? Maybe I had pissed off someone without knowing, ruining their life, and they were overcome with revenge and wanted to take me out so they sent me a bomb that will explode when I open the package, exacting their revenge?

Dr. Magee would call this catastrophizing, and she would be right. I tell myself that I don’t leave the house enough to encounter someone’s day to ruin to the extent that they would want to blow me up.

It could be something horrible though, like a dead animal from a twisted-up kid playing a prank? Just the thought of the smell of rotting flesh alone was enough to make me drop the package and run for the toilet to wretch. My head spun as I got back to my feet, I could feel my heart racing, leading me to a panic attack. So I tried to ground myself using the technique that I had learned. I looked around and said five things I saw out loud, “Sink, towel, mirror, hairbrush, toothpaste.”, then four I could smell, followed by three I could touch, two I could hear, and one I could taste. The last one was easy as all I could do was taste the leftover bile in my mouth, but I felt calmer, and a bit more aware of my situation.

when I finally realize how ridiculous my situation has gotten I muster up all of my logic and go back to the box. I tell myself that all of this anxiety can go away if I just open the box. I just have to open the box. Who cares what’s inside? It won’t be anything bad. Right?

I grab the box one more time off the porch and bring it inside to place it on the table. I take a seat across from it and stare at the box. I just have to open it. I know that, but instead, I just stare at it, paralyzed by the unknown. I make a list in my head,

-grab a knife

- open the wrapping

- cut box open if necessary

- see what’s inside

That's only four things. Whatever is inside the box won’t be that bad… it won’t be that bad. It’s not enough though to reassure myself nothing bad is inside. So instead of opening it, I decided to throw it out. It seemed like a logical choice, eliminate the problem, eliminates the worries, but the conspiracies running through my head never stop.

What if it’s food and then it goes bad leading to a rat infestation? And then the rats breed and eventually my entire house is full of rats and then I have to get a cat but one won't be enough and then I’ll get more cats and my whole house will stink and I’ll be a crazy cat lady and be in veterinary debt to give all those cats their shots?

What if it’s a million dollars in cash and I’m just throwing it away? But what if that cash is from a bank robbery and I’m being framed. If I open it, I’d be in conspiracy with robbery. How would I prove my innocence? I couldn’t, and then I’d go to jail for a crime I didn’t commit because let’s face it, the justice system is flawed.

It became apparent that there was no easy solution. The box still sat on the table, almost as if mocking me. I paced back and forth, never taking my eyes off of the package. I felt myself getting angry but not at the box, at myself. This isn’t something that I should be scared of, so why am I? I just want to be normal like everyone else! The frustration leads me to tears and a fit of rage, I tore the box open, destroying it as if it would fix me. I tore the paper to shreds, the box too, not even caring about the contents, I just didn’t want the box to exist anymore.

Paper and cardboard littered the floor and table, and I looked at the mess in disgust. I panted as if I had run a marathon and finally remembered to find out what it was that had been sent to me that caused so much stress.

It was a book. A large one, blue in colour, the title read “Pros and Cons, a Guide on How to Make Good Decisions.” On top was a small yellow piece of paper, “Saw this and thought it might be helpful. Read it over and we can talk about it next Thursday if you like. -Dr. Magee”