Crossing the Borderline Personality

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It's soup kitchen day today, yeah!

I got up early this morning after sleeping for an hour. That really pisses me off sometimes. I crawl into bed, close my eyes and black out at...well, let's just say 8:00PM. I sleep all night long, waking up and looking at my clock. It' reads 9:00. Damn, I think, I really must have been tired because I slept all night. I get up and look at the window and it's still dark outside. I look at the clock and it's actually 9:00PM. I didn't sleep all night. I slept for a fucking hour. I can't get behind that!!!



I'm pissed at myself, but I get busy, jumping on the computer, reading and writing. Finding and searching the Internet diligently for book publishers and agents. I'm getting busy, and then around 8:00 in the fucking morning I can no longer keep my damn eyes open. So I climb back into bed and call it a night, waking up one hour later, feeling like I just slept all night. Now. I'm beginning to realize what the fuck is going on now. I'm getting it. There are two intervals here. Falling asleep at 8:00PM and then doing the same at 8:00AM, both for an hour. Now think! In between are two durations. Me awake during the daytime and me awake during the nighttime.



Now here's where it gets skanky. What if there are TWO ME's. I'm awake during the morning and another me is awake during the night. Someone not me. Normally this someone is so far gone inside my head that when I wake up, I have no recollection of what he did over night. Nothing whatsoever. So to the daytime me, I fell asleep at 8:00AM and woke up again at 8:00PM, getting a  full night's...err, I mean 'Day's' sleep but in actuality only sleeping for two hours total.



BUT, the system is not perfect. My divided brain does not work out as it should all the time. Some nights it has missed the night and I clearly see myself as my other personality doing what I do, blog, write, send emails, bitch, moan, jerk off, shit, wash dishes, mop the floors, whatever. This other personality does what it wants to do and normally I would never know about it, but some nights...some nights, I bleed through and see what he's up to. And I realize that I do suffer from Dissociative Personality Disorder. A faulty one, because some nights I see my Alter personality through his eyes, and some nights I can't. I don't. I just see the effects of what he does.



Shit. I am in awe at how I deduced this fact. It has always bothered me that I could only sleep an hour or so here and there, but now I see it. Normally, when I sleep for eight hours, like you, I'm actually asleep for two. The other six, I am dreaming, but I am Him. Walking around my room, doing what he wants to do.  Not me. I shake my head at this. I knew I had the disorder but I could never explain what its like. I could never really explain a changeover or the weird feelings that I have when others tell me that I had done or said something when clearly I had not. Especially all of you lovely readers of this blog who know me personally. You guys and gals. You constantly ask me: "Why did I write that?", and "I didn't know that you felt that way". NO, I didn't. HE felt that way.



I make no bones about what is said and done on this blog. I take no respon- sibility for the Alters, what they say and the arguments that ensue between them and you. They are all over the place in my head, I know that, and Wellbutrin allows them to come to life on the posts of this blog. So beware. Especially for the hobo. That man is a maniac. Watch your steps. He's like going through a minefield with no map, blindfolded.



Mark my words. There are many more nights where it feels like I sleep normally. Those are the nights that I'm beginning to worry about. Those are the nights that I have no recollection as to what he's done in the interim. The one thing I wish I could control is the fact that this fucking screwball doesn't seem to understand that he does not have to eat three square meals an interim. Because I'M eating three square meals an interim. That means six square meals a day. That's not good. Not good unless they are very small portions, and unfortunately for me, they never are.



More unnecessary turmoil in my life. I have problems without, and now I've proven to myself that I have very real problems within. I can't wait to see my psychiatrist again.

I can't wait.

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