There have been times in my life that I have referred to myself as two people; Anne and Vail, Jekyll and Hyde, whatever. But in analyzing the thought when it came I could never actually divide my personality in half - each persona having good and and bad traits. So later on when struggling to understand why I was or wasn't doing something I would instead visualize the little angel and devil from childhood cartoons sitting on my shoulders and delegate the internal argument to them.
It must be normal to some degree, this internal examination, but as E. Gilbert said in her book, "Can I please have an unexamined lunch?" The desire to feel 'normal' - defined by a fat person as having the compulsion to eat stripped cleanly away leaving only the rational desires for fuel left - was a strong recurring lament in my younger years. I think somewhere along the journey I became embittered by it. Then later this dissolved into the pity pool, just another component of what was rapidly becoming a lake to drown in. I must have recognized this and labeling so many posts as 'pity party' did help me to visualize getting out of the 'water'. How I digress. What was I saying? Oh yes, mental illness, the two me's, the arguing, the desire for internal peace. I've been actively analyzing everything since....ok, I can't pinpoint exactly when because it goes back so far. Before high school, before junior high. My first strong memory might be in elementary school and watching the big kids wait for the bus taking them to jr. high and being intimidated because certainly I would never be able to learn enough to do that. Something along those lines. Crazy that; I was an early reader, the fastest runner in my class, and already beating myself up inside. And no, I was not a fat kid. I was healthy and athletic. The fat came later - and yes, probably a direct correlation between thinking and eating. The more I thought, the more the compulsion to stuff my face.
Which brings me full circle to the thought this morning that there is something intrinsically wrong inside, something not 'normal' that keeps me from staying level headed and focused and positive. Somebody PLEASE hand me a scalpel. Or maybe just a thread and needle. Because I am tired. I want the gene fixed, or the lesion removed. I want the internal dialogue to fricken CHANGE THE CHANNEL and leave me alone for a while. I want more than a good week, I want a good year, hell, I'll take a good month to start.
Thoughts are things? Okay fine, I'm putting Pollyanna in charge.
Sigh, proofing this for spelling I see the sadness and rage and how for all my struggles and book learning and experience nothing has really changed from that little girl standing at the fence. I'm still looking out on the world wondering how to be good enough. The good news is that a low this deep will instigate a new high in my roller coaster of moods - bring it on!