that time I might have killed a personality

I know for a fact that NO ONE is going to understand this post. Unless you have DID/multiple personality disorder, or any type of dissociative disorder. If you do have one, can we talk and be best friends because unlike my depression, which feels so alone but you aren’t, when you have DID, you are definitely alone. Most doctors don’t even believe it’s a real disease and most insurance companies won’t cover your therapy if you get the diagnosis for it. Wow we have a really messed up healthcare system. DID is real! We’re not in the 1960’s anymore, America.

There’s also no known treatment for DID. Personalities are not exactly something you can “treat” with medication because the personalities ARE you (oh god, I’m getting back into the “you are not your disease” rant again, except that with DID, you kind of are your disease because your disease is literally you). Sure, doctors try to give out anti-depressants and anxiolytics or even antipsychotics to treat it because hey, why not. I guess it makes sense because alternate personalities serve a purpose: protection. Kind of convenient though, don’t you think? Example: I start to feel anxious. I, Emily, hate feeling anxious, so I transition into another personality so that Emily doesn’t have to deal with feeling anxious. It’s just another form of disassociation like drinking or drugs etc. But my mind does it for me. Kinda cool.* Kinda totally not.**

So the whole point of this post is to tell you about how I might have accidentally killed one of my personalities. But before I jump into that, maybe I should explain what DID is because everyone thinks we’re crazy people with a million personalities that jump out at any second and I can go from being Emily to some dude who believes he’s a Vietnam vet (that’s actually from United States of Tara, but that drastic of a transition is a real thing. I have a personality named “Matilda” who’s a 5 year old girl). DID stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder. What a mouthful and a pain in the ass to keep typing out. So DID is a dissociative disorder, let’s start with that. Disassociation is a form of panic, in which you don’t want to be there, so your mind takes you elsewhere so that you don’t have to experience what is going on. A lot of people do it. A drink or 2 or 3 or more at the end of the day so that you don’t have to think about your shitty day anymore. Taking pills so that you can get through the day physically but not mentally. It’s like that. Even daydreaming is a form of disassociation. With that in mind, instead of taking something, when I don’t want to feel the way I’m feeling, I transition into another person who can feel that for me. Here’s a couple of them: Isabella. Depressed, self-destructive. But honest. She’s also 14. Emily is not any of those and I can’t feel that way, so Isabella does it for me. Alice: hypomanic, full of herself, short-fused, and will f**k anything that moves. Delilah is quiet, shy, but sweet and kind. I guess I can be that way, but she apologizes for everything. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her metaphorical body. These are the 3 most prominent personalities for me so let’s stick with that. This post would be too long if I described all of them and I also don’t know how many there are, or even everything about them***

One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to kill Alice. She was starting to ruin my life. I was more Alice than I was Emily or anyone else. On an almost daily basis, I was transitioning into Alice. She was drinking me into a coma, eating meat to spite me (a Natty Boh sausage, really, Alice?), screwing and flirting with other guys to piss off my now-ex-boyfriend, and current male companion. She sounds awful and it makes me sound like an awful person, but when I say it wasn’t me, seriously, it wasn’t me.

But semi recently, I’ve felt integrated. I haven’t transitioned in a couple months now and I have the ability to feel emotions again. It sucks, but I supposed it’s better than my alters messing my life up. But somehow, in the midst of that, I think I killed Alice. I don’t understand it at all because if she’s integrated into being a part of me, how did I manage to kill a part of actual Emily? This is so confusing. But all the things that Alice felt for me, and I was starting to feel as well, have seemed to just up and leave. Just about 3 weeks ago I was feeling great about myself. I felt sexy, confident, my self-esteem was way better, I had a healthy libido, I could feel angry, I could express my feelings. What happened?

I’ve become a hermit again. Instead of wearing sexy overpriced lingerie on an everyday basis and around the house, I’m back to coming home from a long day and snuggling in my sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. I’ve been eating my feelings or starving myself because I hate how I look. I can’t talk about my feelings. I can’t feel anger. I have absolutely no libido. And when I say “no libido,” I mean, like, sex sucks. I can’t get into it, can’t get aroused, or even enjoy the feeling. It’s easy for men. Just take that little blue pill and you can bang the crap out of anything all night. There’s nothing like that for women. BDSM is the worst thing ever now. The last time I was involved in a scene, I started crying because I hated the pain. I can’t orgasm. I’m tired of apologizing every time I can’t even make myself pretend to enjoy it. Every aspect of Alice’s personality that was coming out in me is gone.

And then last night, it hit me. Alice is gone. Did I kill her? Did she kill herself out of spite of being integrated?****Sounds like an Alice thing to do. But as I think about this more, I suppose it’s possible that she got out of the integration. She is her own separate personality again. I’m fragmented into simply Emily and Alice. What makes me think that?

I felt her last night. In the past, before I would transition, I could feel them. I would hear their voices in my head whenever I’d start to feel a negative emotion. It’s like someone banging on your front door maliciously and then eventually, they take an axe to it to break in, and suddenly, I’ve gone from being Emily to being someone else. This didn’t happen last night. I felt her though. I could feel the knocking, feel the pressure in my head of another person trying to crawl out into the world. But she didn’t. She stayed put. Why are you doing this, Alice?

I sense mayhem. Come back, Alice. I love you. I miss you.

*Alice has gotten me through so many work shifts when I have a panic attack. Then again, she’s also a total bitch to everyone around her so I can imagine it makes for an unpleasant shift for my coworkers. Sorry, guys.

**One time, Isabella threw my phone into a river. Kinda totally not cool.

***Apparently I have a personality named “Tyler,” according to Alice. Tyler is a guy and also a sex god. As far as I know, he’s never made an appearance. He kind of sounds like Tyler Durden based on what I heard (in an audio recording I set up before transitioning) from Alice.

**** In previously mentioned audio recording, she said she never wanted to be integrated because she wanted to be her own person. I guess I get her point. It must suck to be a personality that has no body to call its own.

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the time I had to explain what depression is

Disclaimer: this will not be a funny or satirical post. I’m going to talk about some real shit. Depression. Unless you’ve had it, it’s highly unlikely that you will understand it. I’ve realized lately that when I blow people off or can’t make myself do simple things because of my depression, they just don’t get it. “Just choose to be happy today!” is one I’ve heard. Hey, if I could choose how I feel like picking out wine, I’d go for manic any day.* Do you know how much shit I’d get accomplished? I’d be on fire. Excuse me sir, did you choose to be an asshole today?

Depression is not a feeling like sadness, joy or anger. Depression is a state of being. Different people operate on different levels. Some people operate on a more manic level. That crazy hyper friend you have who you can only hang out with for an hour until you’re exhausted? Yeah, like that. Then there’s the people who are just “happy,” for lack of a better word. Below that is dysthymic, which I think is the suckiest because you aren’t happy and you aren’t depressed enough to be actually depressed. But you’re still operating on this low-level depressive happiness. It’s hard to get out of. And of course, below dysthymia is depression. It’s the lowest state of being. Depression doesn’t leave. It’s a consuming disease that eats up your life and who you are as a person. No, depression does not define you as a person, that’s not what I meant. I meant that it can take away everything that makes a person who they are. It’s like cancer. Slowly at first, and then before you even knew it was happening, bam, you have a diagnoses for depression and you are thrown into the throws of dealing with doctors and medication and everything seems like it’s ending. But like cancer, you are not your disease. Just as one would say “I have cancer” and not “I am cancer,” one has depression, they are not depression.

Here’s a better metaphor**. I told my therapist about the cancer/depression metaphor, to which she replied “I’ve had cancer and I’ve had depression, and I would rather have cancer.” Bold statement, L, but ok. Depression is a ditch that you fell into and it’s so deep that you would have to take every effort in your body to get out of it. Some people decide that this ditch is okay and so they make themselves comfortable figuring that it’s impossible to get out. It takes a strong person who is willing to become uncomfortable and push themselves out of the ditch. Depression becomes comfortable over time. Once you fall into it, you become comfortable and the longer you stay, the more comfortable you become.

Having dealt with depression on and off for nearly a decade now, falling back into depression is comfortable. I push myself out of the hole as quickly as I can so that I don’t become comfortable. Like cancer, the sooner you treat it, the more likely you are to get through it. However, I can’t deny that depression always greets me back with cookies and comfy pillows. But that’s no way to live.

When your brain is so consumed by depression, everything is a struggle. Your body and mind are depressed. If you look at a PET scan of someone with depression, their brain will not be as lit up as someone without depression. It’s not that they’re brain dead; their brain is literally depressed. It’s biological. I’m not using this as an excuse, it’s just something to consider. The other night, I entered a depressive episode where it felt like I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. All I could do was lie in bed and stare at the wall. That’s depression. Everything becomes a struggle to the point that you shut down completely. Most people think that people with depression are always suicidal or self-harming, etc. This is totally not the case. Do you think someone who has been consumed by depression to the point that they can’t move is at risk for self-harm? Probably not. From my experience, no, it does not. That kind of thought can’t even enter the brain because you’re just that detached in that moment. Of course though, depression does not always manifest itself in this fashion, that’s just me. I am not diagnosed with major depressive disorder or any type of mood disorder (I don’t consider “Mood Disorder NOS” a real diagnosis, and quite frankly, I don’t really care. Focus on how you feel and not that DSM code! DSM codes are self-fulfilling prophecies and are purely meant for insurance companies).

I am not a psychiatrist or a clinical psychologist. Yeah, I am a psychology major and I can tell you some of the chemistry behind depression, but I cannot provide treatment. I enjoy helping people when I can, but ultimately, I cannot fix anyone, and the only people who can fix a person with depression is themselves. A person with depression has to choose to get out of their comfort zone and climb out of the hole even if it takes multiple attempts and a lot of blood, sweat and tears (that might be metaphorical, might not, but I like the expression). I’ve climbed out several times only to fall back in weeks, months or years later. There is no end. Depression is the hardest battle you will fight with your head, if you happen to have the misfortune of having it. Depression is forever. I don’t mean this as a “give up now, there’s no point.” Just know that there will be good days, there will be bad days. You might go months or years feeling alive only to fall back into feeling dead.

I’m not sure how much clearer I can be with describing depression.***I know that I can choose to be furiously happy today and be glad that I got up at 5:30 this morning so that I can have a more productive day. But these are the good days, and they do and can happen even to those who feel like nothing is good anymore. Look at the good things. Smell the flowers. Stop complaining. Do something that will make you glad you did it. You say you don’t enjoy anything anymore, but I know you do (I’m talking to you, Mike). Find one thing you can do today that will make you happy. Treat your body right (seriously, you’ll feel better, not just about yourself, but physical health has been proven to correlate with good mental health!). Don’t hold grudges. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Laugh at that really dumb and annoying customer you had to deal with today. In the end, it doesn’t matter.

Not caring is the best thing I’ve ever decided to do.

*It takes me a good hour to pick out wine. Maybe I should reconsider that metaphor.

**I used this metaphor on Blob last night to help him understand because he’s a sociopath. He got it. If he can, everyone can. Again, sorry Blob.

***I would love to hear your thoughts. Most of them. Not the mean ones. Don’t tell me that depression is fake or tell me I’m weak. You will be blocked. If you have had depression or know someone with depression, leave your input in the comments! Assholes can take their business elsewhere.

that time I realized I was untouchable

That was really the best title I could come up with for this post because I feel this emotion, what is it, anger? Not necessarily anger as much as irritation.

Everyone is untouchable, to an extent. They can actually do what they want because people do what works. Some people do drugs in order to get away from what they feel. Some people harm themselves to get in touch with what they feel. Some people eat a certain diet because of either health reasons or something they believe in. Some people pray. Some people meditate. Some people kill themselves at the gym. Why do we do these things? Because humans are an extremely selfish species and while they think they’re doing something for the greater good, they’re doing it to feel better about themselves even if it is something that will benefit society.

That being said, I will never push a vegan diet on anyone because it’s not something that works for everyone. After some backlash from my last post, I feel a need to clarify. Yes, I do think that if the entire human race could be vegan, our environment would be in a much better condition and many animal lives would be saved. However, I know that this isn’t ideal for everyone because of health reasons, economical reasons, what have you. If it is something that you CAN do, then by all means, go vegan!

But if you’re hurting your body or your wallet by doing that, then no, it’s not ideal. All I ask of society is to be conscious of what they eat. You can be a meat eater and still be conscious of what you’re eating. There is cruelty free meat out there. I can say that for a fact because (little known fact to those around me) I spent my summers on a farm as a kid. My mother worked for a local farm that had a couple cows, and lots of goats, geese, and ducks. We drank the cows’ milk, ate the eggs, made cheese from the cow and goat milk and being the animal loving 6 year old that I was, I know that absolutely no harm was done to these animals*. Yes, this was a very small farm so the environmental impact was very small and at the time I didn’t know anything about global warming or anything like that. But we can’t deny the fact that animals, like cows, will still exist whether we breed them or not. Cows need to be milked when they’re lactating. The cow on the farm I was on had a calf and obviously one calf can’t drink that much milk, so we consumed it instead. Why would we waste it?

No, not all meat is cruelty free. Obviously, companies such as Purdue and Tyson are infamous for actually having the machines that grind up baby chickens. These things do exist, but not all cows are electrocuted, not all chickens are ground up in bulk in monstrous machines, and not all animals are fed gluttonous amounts of hormones so that they’ll have more meat on them for us to consume. It’s sad that these things do exist, I can’t deny that because they do. But “happy animals” exist whether they are used for their meat or what they produce. As someone who eats a vegan diet, I don’t consume these products purely for environmental reasons. But I’m not ignorant to the fact that many animals that the majority of society consumes is unethically raised.

Bring on the hate mail, I do my part for the environment by doing what I’m able to do, which is eating a vegan diet. I am untouchable because I’m doing what I’m capable of.

End rant.

*I need to find that picture of me with my “pet” goat that I named Q-tip because he was white and fluffy like a Q-tip. I should have named him cotton ball if we’re gonna go with cosmetic products, but I was 6. Give me a break. There are pictures of Q-tip and me somewhere in the depths of my mom’s photo albums. He was adorable.

that time I realized I believed in nothing

Writing is hard. Like, I’ll be in class or at the gym or just somewhere where I don’t have a chance to write anything down and I’ll come up with this fantastic idea or a really good sentence and I’m like “I NEED TO BLOG NOW” so I’ll keep it in the back of my mind as this awesome idea and then I sit down to write and I’m like, “what point was I trying to make?” I came up with this title while doing crunches to “Ex’s and Oh’s” by Elle King* but honestly I don’t really know what I’m going to write about. So, for every sentence I crank out, I get 3 gulps of wine**

My usual random manic thoughts have been exhausted as of two days ago. I think I might be able to stay on topic for once in this but if I keep drinking then maybe it’ll happen. Maybe. That’s really what keeps you guys coming back, right? Well-hold on I need to finish a glass of wine-the few of you that have been reading my blog***

This post was really initiated by me thinking back on a conversation I had with some coworkers a couple weeks ago. For some reason (again, shot short term memory) we were talking about “what we believe in” and the majority of my coworkers said that what they believe in most is being vegan, to which I replied “is it bad that I believe in the cat-pocalypse more than being vegan?” and they said yes. Do I really believe in eating vegan or is just a default for me by now? Sure, I definitely support anti-cruelty because I love animals and eating vegan because it’s more environmentally friendly, but is it something I really “believe” in? I know that as much as I love animals, there is meat that is cruelty free and more environmentally friendly, such as lamb (thank you for that factoid, Blob).

So, as I said in my subnote (if you guys actually read my subnotes, which you should because they’re important I promise, even though I don’t know why I don’t just put the subnotes into the main text), the wine is starting to work and I think I can write now. This is such a forced post that I’m actually pained by rereading what I wrote. Let’s talk about my mental shit now and what I do and don’t believe in. But let’s start with what I don’t believe in because if you looked at the title, you’d know that I don’t think I believe in anything, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

Things I don’t believe in:
-Christianity (sorry, but that had to be the first one. I probably offended a lot of people, but I just don’t believe in some dude that rules the whole universe. Believe what you want though guys)
-the paleo diet (unless done the way cavemen ACTUALLY ate)
-the raw vegan diet
-Donald Trump
-raves being a “spiritual awakening” (party on, guys, but that just sounds like a set-up for my social anxiety and I’m pretty sure that acid and X don’t open your eyes to anything. Not gonna hate on you guys or anything, do what you like, but I like my spinal fluid to stay clean and I don’t need drugs to hear voices or feel disassociated****)
-healing crystals (despite that I carry them with me everywhere praying that they’ll help)
-photos eating your soul (except for selfie spams)
-PETA (I fully support their cause, but they hate pitbulls so I can’t get behind it. Also, “pitbull” isn’t a word? I blame PETA for that. More reason to not believe in them)
-bachelor’s degrees (probably because I have the worst senioritis this semester. Senioritis isn’t a word either apparently. But seriously, college is close to useless because I really don’t feel like I need to know about the psychology of motivation or learn how to speak French just because UMBC said I needed to. “That time I didn’t want my bachelors degree.” There’s a whole post right there where I can rant. Again, senioritis)
-psychotropic medications (having gone through over 10 or 20 different medications throughout my life, the only thing that’s helped me is Klonopin because it affects your brain in the same way that alcohol does. Actual science there******)
-the church of the flying spaghetti monster (sorry Mr. Tinder Date and Drew)
-the zombie apocalypse (but I still wish it would happen)
-cats taking over the world (this might go on both lists)
-that everyone should be vegan (I’m not sorry for that statement. It doesn’t work for everyone, just like any other diet. Example: I have a coworker with Crohn’s disease and the completely vegan diet just doesn’t work for her. That’s completely fair, I think. I’ll rant about veganism more another time)
-monogamous relationships in your 20’s (I think I lost some readers there)
-crossfit (not sorry, Blob)
-condoms
-the vegan egg tasting like real eggs or “chicken” tasting like chicken
-any type of afterlife
-chi and the yin and yang

I could rant probably list about 100 things I don’t believe in, but I guess that gets away from the point of this post. I know that I don’t believe in a lot, but let’s see if I do believe in anything at all… here’s the list of the things that I think I believe in…..

…give me a minute to think of something…

-global warming
-pitbulls are the sweetest dogs ever
-animals can sense feelings (story time: while I was bawling my eyes out on Valentine’s Day, my psychopath cat, Dexter, jumped up next to me and cuddled with me while I cried. Cats cure sadness which leads to…)
-owning pets improves your mood
-herbal medicine (if you’re ever constipated, Smooth Move tea from Traditional Medicinals is magic. It’s got senna and ginger and some other herbs in it that are known to “clean you out” Skip the laxatives. That shit works. No pun intended. Again, thank you Blob for your recommendation on natural laxatives. Also, dandelion. My face has never been so broken out but I know it’s because it’s “cleansing” me of my alcohol consumption. That was pretty TMI but then again, you knew what you were getting into when you decided to read my blog.)
-rats and mice are the cleanest mammals
-music can change your mood or your life (“Spirits” by the Strumbellas. Changed my mood for a day or two when I was feeling more depressed than usual)
-being furiously happy (thank you, Jenny Lawson)
-when your contacts go in with no problem, and you take a good poop in the morning, it’ll be a good day. No subnote needed.
-Platform 9 3/4
-Cows do produce a catastrophic amount of methane (aka cow farts)
-yoga (but not hot yoga)

this blog has gotten way too long. I’m already at 1500 words and I haven’t proven any type of point, but at least I wrote today. I legitimately could write forever. Why can’t I just make money doing that?!?! Oh. Right. I need more readers. And an editor.

Case in point, honestly, I guess I do believe in a few things. But I guess “believing in” something is a really broad subject that I would have to devote an entire blog to which I really don’t want to do because that just sounds boring. Who wants to read an entire blog about my belief in cats taking over the world? Ok maybe a few crazy cat ladies/men out there, but they probably already read my blog anyway (maybe) so there’d be no point. I’ll wrap this up with a quote like last time. Partly because I’ve seen the movie this is brought up in twice in the past week (brownie points to those who know it), and partly because it’s one of my favorites

How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d

*Elle King is a goddess. She’s basically my backup Amy Winehouse. Minus the drugs. And the whole dying thing. RIP Amy.

**Ok not really. I just happen to be drinking wine to make me come down from the insane amount of caffeine I had earlier. Weirdly enough, I’m still exhausted. I’ve been exhausted all weekend after my episode on Friday night (see previous post). So maybe wine will give me some drinkspiration. YES SPELL CHECK THAT IS A WORD BECAUSE I JUST COINED IT. I like it. I should use that word more BECAUSE IT IS A WORD.

***Thank you by the way. My last post got a lot of attention from the people around me and I want to bake all of you cookies and have a jumping hug. Unless that’s too cheesy, but I’ve always wanted to have one of those. You guys are the best. Minus you, Blob, who I had to read my post to because he said he hadn’t read it. You’re the worst. And won’t engage in a jumping hug or let me bake you cookies. Wait, have I ever baked you cookies? I’ll get on that. Can I bribe you? What if I could bribe the whole world with baking cookies just to read my blog? Damn, I’d have a lot of followers (the wine is working).

****I’m not anti-drug. When marijuana started to become legal in some of the states I was pretty fuckin happy about it because marijuana really is the safest drug. There’s science behind it, somewhere. But I do know that marijuana is better for you than alcohol, let’s be real here. I don’t take drugs (and I’m not just saying that because this is a public blog), but I’m pro-legalization (maybe I do believe in something) because I think it’s dumb that alcohol is legal and marijuana isn’t. But I could write an entire post on that so I’ll stop here.

******Klonopin, xanax and other drugs in that class (benzodiazepines) work on the same neurotransmitters in your brain as alcohol. Benzos are actually a very common drug used in alcohol rehab facilities to prevent withdrawal symptoms, such as seizures. However, they are equally addicting so it’s a catch 22.

that time I hated personality integration

Sometimes you reach a point in your life where you’re just like “hey, I’m crazy, but I don’t care! I am what I am b**tches!!!” You embrace it, accept it, write a blog about it, and act like you love your disease, whatever it is* I mean, here I am writing an entire freaking public blog that my boss and my mom can read, and yet, I just really don’t care. I know I’m not my disease and I know it does not define me, but it can control me and then I get out of control.**

So being the hermit that I am, I never go out. Like, ever. I’m so much of a hermit that I could have gone home on my break to write this post because I really wanted to but I settled for sitting in the corner of the grocery store next door being the worst vegan ever. I guess I could sit in my car, but there’s no wifi probably. ANYWAY. I have to mentally prepare myself the week ahead for anything that requires social interaction like bars, clubs, even going on dates. An example of last week with that kid in my life (he wishes to remain anonymous from now on, YOU’RE WELCOME “BLOB”):

Blob: Want to go see Deadpool on Sunday and go to the Judge’s Bench on Monday night?

me: Um. No. I want to avoid everyone and hang out with my cat.

Blob: Can I avoid everyone with you?

me: THATS NOT AVOID “EVERYONE”

Blob: Ok.. Let me know when you want to hang out

me: WAIT BUT WE CAN BE HERMITS TOGETHER. Don’t you know my rules about going out? Week’s notice, sir.

Blob: No.. that’s a new rule. So I’m not a person now because I don’t constitute “everyone”?

More or less. My short term memory is pretty shot. But now you know, Blob, WEEK’S NOTICE. SEND ME AN INVITATION IN THE MAIL. Or email. Or make a facebook event. That’s kinda like invitations now and they go out WAYYYYY in advance. Plenty of time. It’s perfect. I love our generation just sometimes.

So I had a solid 2 or 3 weeks to prepare for this night out. I actually got excited about it to the point I was almost manic (wow maybe I should get out more). And I told myself (because I was driving myself) that I’d just get 2 drinks, enough to get a little tipsy and be able to talk to people without accidentally rambling about taxidermying my rat (that’s not a word either?) Cut to the part where I’m 10 drinks in and sitting on the floor of a bar because I literally just fell over. I should have cut myself off when nothing would stay in focus for longer than half a millisecond. But being the alcoholic that I am.. 10 drinks. Ok that’s a lot. I weigh 111.4 pounds (as of 5 days ago) so 10 drinks in me? You do the math.

And that’s when the voices kicked in. The voices of my alternate personalities. Alice wanted to stay out, drink more, fuck more, dance more. Isabella wanted to go outside and scream. Delilah just wanted to go home.*** It turned into a screaming match in my head and then me stumbling/running to the bathroom to try and collect myself. There is nothing that will make you feel more insane than being in the bathroom of a bar screaming at yourself to shut the fuck up while banging your head against the wall and just generally screaming. I can’t believe I actually remembered this, but I guess it was a pretty prominent moment in my evening.

I’m now out in my car writing this post. The wifi reaches this far! I’m so happy! I can sit in my little cocoon and write. If only I had my cat. And some wine. Anyway, continuation..

Yes, I did make it home safe. After the bathroom episode, I literally ran back to my car, where I texted my friend asking me to pick me up since I couldn’t drive. No answer. So I took a 5 hour nap, woke up mostly sober, and drove through Baltimore and ended up in the ghetto at 5am because I couldn’t find my phone and I was really relying on Siri to guide me through these dark and difficult times.****

Cut back to my initial topic. Integrating. It really sucks. I always wanted to be integrated because it’s really hard to explain to your coworker that Alice yelled at her to fuck off at work and that totally wasn’t me (I’m still sorry about that Sara). But now, I feel everything that my alters feel. Feelings suck. I really don’t like them and I don’t know what to do with them. I haven’t felt in so long that I forgot what it was like to even feel human. It’s like sorting laundry. Sometimes you don’t know where to begin. I still don’t know. I’m out of control to the point that it’s scary. I don’t trust myself because who knows what will happen every single day of my life. I have to be 7 different people all at once. I know how to socially deal with the feelings, I’m not a sociopath (Ok I am just a little bit, or used to be. That’s probably why Blob and I get along so well.*****). But what do people do with their feelings? How to really experience these? I’m still learning to be human again. It’s like rebirth, but I’m 22 years old and I’m a psychological disaster.

I’ll be ok though. I always end up being ok. I can be a wallflower. What gets me through the day? This really simple quote I found when I was going through one of my rough patches in high school:

Everything will be ok in the end. If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.******

*My therapist says I have general anxiety disorder. I think she’s lying. I get depressed a lot. And I have multiple personalities. And I might be an alcoholic. Whatever. I said in my first post that I’m just Emily so we’ll stick with that.

**Out of control Emily is scary. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s terrifying. Maybe just to me cause I didn’t know I could act like that. I won’t get too specific in this unpurposeful subnote (unpurposeful is not a word? Goddammit spellcheck)

***I haven’t transitioned in at least a month now and my therapist thinks I’m “integrated.” I didn’t know integration sucked so much. I don’t even like myself anymore really. It’s this awful combination of being an introverted extrovert AND and extroverted introvert. Exhausting to even comprehend how that works. Mental integration, by the way, not social. Don’t condemn me.

****I did find my phone. Did you know that the “Find my iPhone” feature actually works?? Like damn. Technology is cool, man. I love this generation.

*****You know you’re a sociopath. It’s ok. Love you.

******If you really are curious what DID (dissociative identity disorder, formerly and more commonly known as multiple personality disorder) is, just watch The United States of Tara on Netflix. It’s spot on.

 

That time I wrote a blog post while on a stair master 

Valentine’s Day was everything I hoped it to be! A lovely dinner, tears, wine and cats. What more can a basic bitch like me want? 

I guess maybe if my boyfriend didn’t leave at 8:00 because depression grabbed me by the neck and choked me until I was blue and finding myself eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerrys (I was planning on doing that anyway but not under those conditions and I was also pretty drunk. I need to reevaluate my life. Maybe. I’ll ask Rob. Not that he’s my therapist or anything he’s actually my boyfriend but sometimes that’s the same thing, right? Ok not really, so I found out) I wouldn’t be at the gym trying to “reinvent” myself by getting in a good workout and being a strong independent woman. I don’t think stair masters are good places to write long blog posts either though, just by the way. I just spent the past few minutes disgusted at someone’s B.O. only to realize it’s me. But I’m strong and independent so I figured that out myself and I’m just going to roll with it and hope no one says anything. I think that should be a gym rule, especially at planet fitness because I have definitely smelled some real ratchet smells here (is that weed I smell?). 

Conversations between Rob and me:

Me: so you like my blog? Right?

Rob: I mean it doesn’t make much sense but I guess it’s just your stream of consciousness 

Me: NO ROB ITS ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS AND IM MENTALLY ILL AND THATS JUST HOW MY BRAIN WORKS

Rob: nonsensical?

Me: it’s more like the DC metro. Makes no sense.

Rob: uh yeah it does. The New York subway doesn’t make sense.

Me: are you kidding? The orange line takes you from “I should have my knife with me” to “oh god where’s my Chanel and Louis Vouttin?”

Rob: there’s a map in every station!

Me: well not in my brain there isn’t! There’s like some orange line that takes you to now but later I might hop on the brown line and end up.. Wait where does the brown line even go? Anacostia?

Rob:…

Me: ANYWAY. My point is that my mind doesn’t make sense so neither should my blog. I figure if you don’t like me you won’t like my blog.

Rob: get back on the orange line and go home.

He gets me. He really gets me.

And I haven’t fallen off his stair master yet but I can feel my dinner from last night. Anyone who takes medication knows what I’m talking about. That is the most real struggle ever. I think I’ll write a post about that once I stop losing readers.

that time my cat decided to sit on my head while I was kidnapping him

So, it’s valentine’s day. Or, as I mentioned in my previous post, “Single’s Awareness Day” (Thank you, big sis). So instead I have a bottle of really cute prosecco that I totally bought because the bottle was cute (who can resist a good label on a wine bottle? It has “I love you” in like, 15 different languages all over it with little cartoon people holding hands and heart shaped balloons), my cat, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, my new vegan Ben and Jerrys, and maybe I’ll just wear my sexy Victoria’s Secret teddy BECAUSE I CAN. It’s not like I’m getting laid or anything but there’s nothing wrong with owning completely useless lingerie.*

On a more serious note, Valentine’s Day is pretty lame. As Joel in Eternal Sunshine says (the Jim Carrey character, and if you don’t know what I’m talking about and you’re single on this day, then grab your bottle of red wine or whatever it is that you have and watch it because it’s totally a depressing Valentine’s Day movie for single people. But we’ll pretend that the entire world has seen it anyway), “Valentine’s Day is a holiday invented by greeting card companies to make people feel like crap.” Yeah, this is pretty true. Restaurants, greeting card companies, even fucking GIANT and every major grocery store commercializes Valentine’s Day in such a way that it’s like HEY SHARE THIS DAY WITH THE PERSON YOU LOVE SO MUCH YOU HAVE TO GIVE THEM THIS USELESS TEDDY BEAR THAT SAYS “LOVE ME” OR SINGS SOME STUPID SONG AND THESE FLOWERS THAT ARE UNNATURALLY BRIGHT PINK. Nothing says “I love you” like a giant teddy bear. Except that that is kind of true because I have one and it’s the most cuddly thing ever. Besides my cat.** But anyway, Valentine’s Day, to me, is more of a reminder that humans are capable or even experiencing such a strong emotion. I mean, dolphins are one of the only other mammals that have sex for fun (how does that even work? I’ve watched dolphins at the aquarium and it literally makes no sense to me and it’s also all I can think about when I see them ever since I learned that. Dolphin sex. Think about that for a second.), so it’s amazing that as a species, we can are capable of having this strong feeling of “love,” as well as “hate” and everything in between. Sure, some of the “love” we feel is not real attachment as much as passion, but attraction is a strong emotion as well. The brain is really weird sometimes. Like you know how when you meet someone you like for the first time and it’s like fireworks are going off in your head and there’s little kittens in can-can skirts dancing around and there’s literally sparkles coming out of the other person’s eyes and you’re pretty sure that the sun is actually shining out of their ass? That feeling. Initial attraction (I still don’t understand the “sun shining out of their ass” part but I know it’s a phrase I’ve heard before. It anatomically makes no sense, just saying). To an extent, I believe that to be some sort of “love.” And even if you just have a too many cocktails together, have really weird sex (but really really GOOD sex) and have to leave at 3am because you’re having a panic attack, that first attraction felt amazing didn’t it?***

Oh, but you’re probably wondering about the title of this post as I have not addressed it at all and I’m already 700 words into this post. There’s not much to that story as much as that is what happened to me today when I picked up my cat from my mom’s house and he decided that the headrest on my seat was more comfortable than sitting in a real seat. I love him, but seriously, Dexter Morgan, will I wake up wrapped in plastic wrap tomorrow morning? Please don’t kill me. I love you.****

Ok, I guess I should engage in Valentine’s Day shenanigans with the boyfriend even though I have reminded him three times today (not that I’m counting) that today is Valentine’s Day. At least I have my 2 boyfriends named Ben and Jerry for later.

*ok, I’m not really single. My boyfriend is here cooking me dinner. But he’s leaving in a couple hours because he’s that weird idiot that wakes up at 4:30 in the morning and goes to bed at 9pm like an old person. Ok, I’m joking. Except not. He’s totally an old person. Love you babe. You probably won’t read this anyway even though you’re 3 feet away from me right now. Or maybe you will. And then I’m sorry. Thanks for making me dinner.

**He’s not really that cuddly. He totally could be because he has the fuzziest belly and he’s so cute but instead he likes to sit in the corner and stare at me and sometimes groom my head with his rough cat tongue. I find this quite affectionate. Unless it’s 5am and it’s a “FEED ME NOW HUMAN” reminder that my alarm is going off.

***that’s a true story. No details necessary. Why did I do this sub note anyway?

**** a love of cats is the most real love there is and I’m not even a crazy cat lady. Not really. I only have one.