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Who Am I?




Did you ever retreat inward to your mind and lose yourself for a few seconds? How's it done? You cast off the "you" identity and look at yourself more objectively. I compare it to the near death experience some people describe, but not as extreme. Near death patients often experience the phenomenon in surgery and describe floating on the ceiling of the OR and watching the doctors attempt to save their lives. This little shade or imperfect clone of yourself floating on the ceiling tiles is your soul--maybe the one Plato described in his philosophical works.

I've escaped briefly (a few minutes) for years. It's a nice place to be for a wee bit. You don't have to take responsibility, you have no guilt, you have no fear, you just float for those few minutes until you decide that the "you" identity you have assumed in reality is okay and needs you back in charge.

I don't retreat for long. I snap back pretty quickly. I'm actually afraid to stay in this well lighted, all-welcoming place because psychiatrists warn you about psychotic episodes and detachment. In the back of my mind I fear that I might linger a little too long and not be able to come back. A sort of living death. I think it's a false fear, but you never know.

 I also think about Sally Field's amazing portrayal of a young girl who was abused as a child and  created several personalities. Multiple personality disorder is supposed to be rare, but more and more you read about people who swear they have another person living in their body. Sometimes they can even prove it.

When I was reading the book "Sybil," from which the MPD movie was derived, I used to fantasize about what other personalities I might have. I reasoned that I had a bit too much of verbal abuse from my father. Why then didn't I break off into another personality that would better tolerate his criticism? It seemed like a good option, but I never got into MPD, thankfully. I'm sure it's way worse than OCD and depression.

It wasn't for lack of abuse that my mind chose a better solution.. For instance, when I started to write, I began to write for pet publications such as Bird Talk and Dog Fancy. When my dad visited me in Arizona, his reaction to my stories was why don't you write for people pubs? He always  mocked my love of animals. Somehow in his mind I was supposed to like people only he considered credible or honest. I don't know who these people might have been because my dad didn't really like many people. I think all he wanted from me was just to listen to him and base all my actions on his advice and suggestions.

I think I did do that for a long time, but it was a no-win situation. Either I couldn't do what he wanted or he kept changing the variables so I never could keep up with his recommendations. He was a difficult man, hard to talk to and harder yet to love, but I did love him, possibly because I take after him in many ways. Some of them are even positive ways. I get my intolerance for dishonesty from him. I also get my hatred for BS and my affection for music.

But I've gone off topic--that's a Trump thing, not usually a me thing. Who am I? Well, I guess we all have different facets of our personality. Some days I'm more humorous than others, and many days my mood is so angry that I wonder who stirred up all this temper in me. Was it Dad, or is it just the total accumulation of frustrated dreams and wishes that we all carry around like a burdensome backpack? I don't know, and the bottom line is it doesn't matter who I am. I am pretty much stuck with this personality. Oh, I can chip off some of the sharp angles and smooth them down, but at the end of the day, I am what I am. And if that's a cliche (which it is) then it's one to live by because at best you can only be the person that time, family and your DNA created.




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