Random Rant #1

How long can something that happened a quarter of a century ago, in an era when a year seemed like a very long time, continue to define me?

What is it about the fact that my skull cracked open that has made it such a defining point in my life? Or was it being transplanted twice after such a traumatic event?

I had a happy childhood in which I was constantly miserable. Miserable while knowing that everything was being done right. Like being miserable was simply a part of who I was, regardless of the fact that there was nothing actually wrong - nothing wrong through the eyes of the adult that I am now, not through the eyes of the child I then was. But what was wrong then?

My memory is selective. All unpleasant memories have a way of being automatically deleted after a while. So, in my memory, I have a happy past. I wish I also had a happier present.

But again, it's all my fault. I have allowed my thoughts to stray in an unsafe direction. Unsafe and wonderful at the same time. I am happier and more miserable than I have been in a long time. If you can't understand how this is possible, well, you're probably young. Or lucky enough to be only one person, instead of several at the same time.

How many people live in you? In my head, there are many competing for limited space. The child is still there - the child that was never happy, even in the best circumstances. The child that always felt there was not enough love in the world. The child that never understood slapstick comedy and used to cry when watching the Three Stooges - how could they be so mean? The teenager is also still there. The one who cries uncontrollably for no apparent reason, whose moods are controlled by music - the mood controls the music, but the music also controls the moods. The angel and the daemon are also ever present. The angel knows right from wrong. So does the daemon. The angel focuses on "right for others". The daemon focuses on "right from me", which is usually wrong. There's also a lazy bastard in there, always choosing not to think, not to act, to wait for things just to happen. Another couple that are always at each others' throats are high and low self-esteem. One of them thinks we are more intelligent than most people we know. The other knows how wrong it is to think this way, and also knows that this is an impression created by other people, not a true idea of self. High insists that, exactly because it is what others think, it is OK to embrace this opinion. Low is embarrassed that High thinks like this and believes there are more important traits than intelligence. High gets angry at slow thinkers, thinking that they are just being lazy.

Some of these people are decidedly male, while others are just as decidedly female. At the same time, we have never been confused (yet) about our sexual identity: we are decidedly female and straight.

Maybe that's why the cracked skull is so important: there is no memory of self before this point. It took many, many years of thinking life is a dream and I would one day wake up back in the hospital, with a net over my face and bandages on my head, to finally regain a few vague recollections of life before the accident (at which point, I stopped expecting to wake up).