I had an epiphany. . .

Well, no, not really. Or maybe. I don't know.

Anyway, this always seems to happen late at night or insanely early in the morning when I'm in that not-quite-asleep-but-not-awake-either state of mind. Needless to say, I did not get up and write this then - shame, too, because I think it would come out more eloquently. But I'm going to do my best.

I've mentioned that I've felt "weird" lately. Not depressed, not me, not always okay, not sure what the hell is going on. Like I'm in this strange holding pattern and there's all these lights and sounds and whispers and I can't quite see the ground I'm flying over.

There's this part of me right now that doesn't care. About anything. She's very flippant and blase, short and to the point, quick to anger and annoy, and very much dissatisfied with everything. Dissatisfied with work, family, friends, coworkers, meds . . .everything. She's dissatisfied with and tired of everything. No longer does she want to do things right. No eating healthy. No going to the gym. No meds, no therapy, no mindfulness, no trying. Nothing. She doesn't care. She doesn't feel - other than anger, frustration, annoyance and hollowness - so how could she even begin to care?

Now this part of me, sadly, has been gaining a foot hold. She whispers seductively in my ear, her breath hot on my neck. It's so much easier not to care. When you don't care, you're not let down as much if things go wrong . . . .everyone else can handle it. You really don't have to worry about anything . . .no responsibility . . . Her words are poison, her breath acrid and stinging . . . but alluring. There's something sweet about the promise of not feeling and not caring . . . .

Except . . . .

Except for the fact that I do care. See, there's this other part of me - the part that's actually me - that's screaming out in tyranny over the false prophet gaining ground. NO! This is not who I am! I am a mother, wife, friend, nurse, artist, sister, daughter, idiotic goofball and I DO care! I DO feel!

And I want to care and feel and do things right. I want to be me.

And right now, these two are in a power struggle. Over me. Over who I am, really. And as they fight, what's left at the center is who I am now. The person who can feel, but doesn't all the time. The person who functions and copes and for all appearances looks in control and put together . . .but who is floating along the surface in limbo, barely participating in life. There are moments - sweet beautiful moments - where the real me shines through . . .but there are moments where the other one stands front and center, feeding me with lies.

Who I am right now, with this power struggle going on, is the girl who is withdrawn and quiet. She is often slow to smile and distances herself from others. She stays on the surface of conversations and offers little to them and often seems to be staring off in the distance, unsure of how to act or what to say. This is me right now.

I am the "me" of my childhood.


(now, I may elaborate more on the "me of my childhood" line later on - I'm still mulling this over in my mind - I have some interesting thoughts)