prime

Driving around getting appointments and errands done, listening to a youtube playlist on my phone. I slapped it together during the last couple months of my dad dying, no rhyme or reason except decent nygmobblepot fanvids. I don't question these mad, random searches I go on. Pinky blog amply demo'd the rabbit hole tendencies over the years. It's like a free association thing where the most random popups in your head wind up leading you through a thought maze and you wind up at a refreshing mental destination somehow. I've been doing that for years.

Anyway, this one came on and bam, I was back in the day as a young kid, probably elementary school somewhere, feeling so alone and suddenly feeling another me bump in and say you're not really alone, I'm here. It was so like another person just being there, but not really saying anything. I've had some really bad high depression days even as an adult where I wind up in a messy ball of weep over 'nothing' and sometimes out of the blue I get that again. I can't call it up or fake it or anything, it just shows up.




And then the song after it immediately triggered the memory of the day I burned the box. I've been wanting to know things about that day, blocked off for years. Well, my best friend from childhood to adulthood was viciously horribly murdered one day, and the day I found out about it, the other me hijacked me and took over, and then the next day burned a box filled with 4 years of letters we'd written back and forth (3 to 4 letters a week for all that time) after my family moved. That other me stayed 'out' for awhile, making huge mistakes and not really knowing how to handle them, I'm guessing because that wasn't the typical social me, but one day about 3 years later? maybe 4, the blocked out me kicked through because the situation had become so dire I was on the verge of losing custody of my child over a really bad marriage. So 'other me' saved me from the nasty pain of grief and loss, but really f*k'd up my life for awhile making very poor decisions. The day I woke up and realized I had to get back out there started with me desperately making long distance phone calls at work trying to piece together what might still be left, and I was so terribly shocked to learn that it was far too late to send flowers to her funeral or condolences to her family. This was me kicking my way back out past a personality that had been hijacking me through pain all my life, without remorse, guilt, or any other feelings whatsoever. The cold me that survived everything. I think I'm kinda seeing how we have been sabotaging each other for a very long time as we swipe control back and forth. I think this is where the narcissistic love/hate thing I have with myself springs from.




Sometimes I lose a little time or 'forget' things, and I've been mixing my timeline up for many years. I can't recall or remember getting from point A to point B to point C even though I can remember most of all three points. It's like sharing space, but who retains the logical sequence for sure isn't me. I am mixed up most days, lost like I'm floating around, constantly remembering little things I meant to do and haven't done yet, hours going by without me feeling them.

I think Pinky is the explainer. The identifier. The one who organized how to proceed after I kicked through, saving the day talking to the right people in the nick of time to retain custody of my child. The situation was ugly and dire and needed a highly skilled chess player.

Pinky is easy to share memories with. Whenever I need real help, Pinky goes all executive command. I feel like a mess, Pinky sorts it all out. Like blogging. When I first started blogging I was a ball of pent up thunderstorm struggling not to strike the ones I love, filling up private blogs with all the negative junk I could barely contain. Over time, Pinky slipped in and was all like Let's just straighten this messy desk up, and next thing you know there are blogs for this, blogs for that, like a sorting machine for all my stuff in the way, and THEN Pinky went public and that was about the hardest thing I have ever had to manage. I had to learn to step out of my own perspective and look over my writing with fresh eyes and then learn how to make it more fun to read, because I was horrible. I still can't go reread my private blogs without cringing because I was so unforgiving and angry.

Blogging has been a very interesting way to see how I hide things from myself. I go back and reread my posts about honesty now and just shake my head. I mean, I was right, right? Pinky was right about that stuff. But I was the one it was written for, this mess of mes, not the people I thought it was about.

I'm very hard on me. It would be better understood to say it like one of me is very hard on original (prime) me, the me that falls apart. That one is very strong because I don't have to feel anything, and of course very judgmental on the me that can't be strong. We are forever at odds. I beat myself up in ways I can't even see, but it stills affects me.

Now that I can look at me as me prime, me Jacky, me Pinky, me Janika, etc, it's really helping me fill in a few holes. I'm still having some problems accessing memories, but I think the last few days feel more like a cooperative effort going in a positive direction.

Side note, my parents never liked the name Jack. I was around 5 when I met a boy named Jack who hated his name and said to call him Guy instead. (Wonder how messed up he was himself...) I wanted to name a pet Jack, both my parents said no (I had weird parents), and I guess I internalized Jack onto the other me that showed up sometimes in my head or something. I never even thought about that until lately. Outwardly, there are plenty of clues that I latch on to anything Jack, like Jack Wild, Jacky Chan, Captain Jack, the OMD song Jackie Bue, stuff like that. My first really big step out into public was my Bluejacky blog. So I guess Jacky is the one hijacking me until Pinky steps in and sorts things out. I guess Pinky had a lot of sorting to do, because I wound up getting a psychologist in on it.

Me prime is autist. By default, so are the rest, but me prime is content to be alone all day long working on whatever interest absorbs me. Me prime has never done well in school, in crowds, in social settings of any kind. I've always had to employ gimmicks to survive relationships. I step into role play in real life nearly everywhere I go, and cringe myself silly stepping back out when it's all over. Me prime is the proverbial hiding and rocking maxed out. But I wasn't allowed to be like that as a child, and I had to develop survival methods very quickly because the punishments kept shutting me down and I was so confused I couldn't cope.

Yes, I do get jealous of the mes who can cope 'out loud'. Yes I hate that I am a wimpy mess that I would like to stomp and squish like a bug. Yes, I do think I'm super smart and dumb as a rock at the same time. Yes, I do get it and fail to get it at the same time. Yes, I am stuck and can't click over when I want to and I'm so frustrated I could tear up whatever is in front of me. (I've broken two door frames in my house. Thankfully, I'm completely against breaking dishes and throwing objects.) (Funny, I tear up doorways... wonder what Freud would say.)

But maybe that I am starting to see all this now, maybe I can find some peace.

~~~~~

On a whole different subject, do you ever think what the f*k and just shave your whole face? I'm turning into a fuzzy terrier of some kind. What is even up with that?