Mental illness doesn’t necessarily run in my family, but it does meander aimlessly with wild rolling eyes and a cackling laugh that will raise the hair on your arms.
Lately I have been holding my breath in anticipation of the day when I finally lose my grip on reality. I’ve been convinced for some time that because it has been a generation or two since an ancestor has gone bonkers that the odds are pretty good that my number is up.
Most of you probably have no idea what it is like to wake up and wonder if today is the day that the voices speak up. Or maybe today will be the day that I’m met in the hallway by a 4 foot tall leprechaun wearing a purple caftan and singing show tunes with a thick Irish brogue.
It may seem like I have most everything together to the outside observer, but I assure you that there is a whole lot of crazy going on over here.
I submit the following evidence:
- Every time I drive across a bridge (which, living in the Bay Area, means quite often) I picture in my head just how easy it would be to launch my car over the side. Then I imagine the moments of weightlessness as I start the plummet towards the cold bay below. Then I wonder if the impact with the water would be sufficient to kill me, or if I would be conscious long enough to be aware that I was drowning.
- Some mornings I find it difficult to recognize my own reflection. Each time this happens I spend a few moments absolutely certain that another personality has taken over my body and he’s pissed to be stuck in this fat body with sleep in his eyes and a bed fro. I get this same sensation whenever I see photographs of myself. Especially photos where it’s apparent that I’m not aware that my picture was being taken. You know those shots, where you’re talking to someone else, or seem to have just wandered into the frame completely oblivious of the photographer. I don’t know who my stand in is, but he’s beginning to bug me.
- Even on my best days when I am not having some sort of weird schizophrenic crisis, my CFS causes memory problems. Poor UMB has to spend an inordinate amount of time reminding me of conversations that we’ve had, or some meal we’ve eaten of which I have absolutely no recollection.
Mind you, I have no intention of launching my car off the bridge, but nevertheless I picture it every time. I don’t think this is normal.
This all makes me wonder if there isn’t another personality taking over on occasion who enjoys fucking with me.
Just in case, I’m writing this record tonight so that if tomorrow morning that other guy who shares my head space can read this message: Knock it off, will ya?
Dude, that’s so gay.
Shit.
I mean, the bridge thing isn’t that crazy. The mirror one is a little bizarre, though. But everybody has crazy moments.
Don’t worry…I’ve got crazy covered for our family. Well, wait, unless you are talking about your dad’s side, in which case I’ll share my padded room with you!
interesting post. makes me wonder about some of the thoughts i have. i’m not sharing my whackjob thoughts here in your comment section, but know that i have em. k? you are not alone!
Yup, you’re batshit crazy.
I kid… But you know, it’s really ok. You get used to hearing voices, just don’t do what they say, and don’t drive off the bridge. (I think the bridge thing is more of a facination with death and a “I wonder what would happen” moment. It’s the thrill of the ultimate unknown) Make friends with the leprachaun, and write a book. For the rest, I can’t help you. I am facinated with the sight of myself whether in pictures or in mirrors, because I can’t believe that’s really what I look like. I’m a curiosity to myself. But at least I know it’s me.
Avitable – If you think I’m bizarre, there must be something to this.
Marge – I would gladly share a padded room with you. We’re going to have a great old age together. Our imaginary friends will get along nicely.
hello – Oh please share some whackjob thoughts?
Gina – I thought so. I’ve already made friends with the leprechaun. We’re writing a broadway musical together called, “Pot O’ Gold.”
Well, I said a little bizarre. You’re not ready for the padded cell yet.
Sharing a padded room would simply make my growing old years that much more pleasurable. I do feel the need to warn you though – my imaginary friend does tend to get quite frisky at times.
Marge – I was counting on that.
I heard something (TV or radio) about the large number of people (well, large for this- considering I had never heard of it) who cannot recognize faces. Sometimes this includes their own. They’re not crazy, they just have this weird disorder. Maybe that’s you.
As for driving off of bridges? I would advise that you take up bunjie jumping, but measure the rope first. It sounds like you have some unfinished business carrying over from a past life that you need to get out of your system.
Or something.
Ummm, exactly which generation was skipped??? OMG, i thought i was the only one who kept wondering who that fat old guy in the mirror was! Do you know how much time i spend every day trying to remember what it was i was about to do, or trying to remember the name of one of my favorite bands? I thought it was just all the wine i drink!
Liz – I don’t have trouble with anyone else’s faces. Just mine. I’m telling you, I’m just not right. Bungee jumping? No thank you. I can just see my foot popping off at the ankle. Gee, me dragging baggage along from a past life? You don’t say…:D
UMB – I think it IS all the wine you drink. You’re neither fat nor old. Yet.
I have to admit that I have had similar thoughts. However, mine is falling over my balcony to the concrete floor below me. I always blame it on too much CSI. But for MANY years, I had a recurring dream about Lael (remember her?) and I driving into the Brookfield city lake because of the winding, way too close to the water, roads it had…so just know that you’re not alone. I just hope out alternate personalities get along as well as we do (at least recently…maybe I could blame what I did years ago on my mini me)! And Marge, I’m just a little offended that you think you’re going to share those padded walls in restraints alone with him. Move over mama!
Toby – Maybe it is too much CSI and Law and Order. Hmm. There’s plenty of room in our padded cell. The more the merrier! Though, I will give you a fair warning… like Marge’s imaginary friends, mine too might take the opportunity to molest you.
So I see NOTHING has changed!
Toby – Exactly. Hope you’re not disappointed.