The Dichotomy of My Mind
I don’t talk a whole a lot about my psychiatric disorders here. Or any where else. In a way, I am comfortable with the weirdness with in myself. I feel that I know it and have worn it like a familiar, well broken in pair of boots. But I have always struggled to talk about it in a meaningful way. It is difficult to talk about it in a manner that makes sense to other people. I usually just leave people giving me that vague, quizzical look. Or the one that suggests I have grown another head which happens to be of an alien variety.
There is a dichotomy inside my mind. Two halves that pull my brain. I have both ADHD and OCD. Sometimes it feels as though my brain is trying to split itself in half. One a ridge rock. One an ever changing, fickle river.
I am impulsive. If a thought crosses my mind it is likely to come out of my mouth. This doesn’t mean that it is anything that I believe, think is true, care about, have given any consideration to or give two shits about. It is likely that it is something that I will not recall saying a few minutes later. These thoughts are little wisps of clouds that pass through my mind so quickly that they never really form into anything solid or real. I vomit them out still in their vaporous forms. Little ghosts of ideas that have died before they were born.
I am obsessive. Some thoughts simply will not leave. Unwanted house guests that arrive and cannot be evicted. Whispering in the corners. Their presence oozing anxiety out into the very pores of my being. Then I must act. Something must be done. Methodical. Plan. Urgent and pressing. Required. It cannot be put off or delayed. Cannot be denied. Words or sentences that must be repeated. Actions must be completed. The thoughts depart, but only for a while. It comes back. It always comes back. The same little imps with their needling claws, digging into my mind.
I’m an over excited hamster running on that never ending wheel. I can’t stop because my brain says bad things will happen if I stop. And I always have that crazy energy like the stupid, spastic hamster. Oh, wait! There’s something over there in my cage! Gotta go check that out. Neat. Oh, the wheel. Got to go run on that wheel. Must run the wheel. Always the wheel. A ball! Push, push. Wheel. Got to run. Run and run. Get the idea?
Order must be maintained. Little dancing thoughts that scatter like frighten birds. Get the little ducks in a row. Shit. There are no ducks. Just these fucking squirrels. Have you ever tried to get squirrels into a line? Fuck. I think they are at the rave again. And I’m talking again. What did I just say? Shit. I don’t know. Who was listening? Look around. Alright. No one looks upset. I think I might be alright. Better not to be around a lot of people. The more people there are, the more talking. When there is more talking, more thinking. That’s when the squirrels arrive. Fucking squirrels. I want to keep the ducks in a row. Does anyone have the fucking ducks?
I’m not one to pour my soul out. One of the things about me is that I am a rather closed book. I am not very comfortable letting people read my pages because I am rather certain that people will not like the things that are written there. I fear judgement of others because the judgement I have given myself has been rather harsh over the years. People, over all, are kind. That has been my life experience. They are thoughtless, self centered and move about their lives without thought of how their actions effect those around them, but few actively seek to harm those around them. But few seek to understand others. Judgement comes too quick.
It is a constant fight within myself. Half of my brain demands order. Not so much in the world around me as much as with in myself. I must be this and behave this way. But there is this jumbled mess on the other side that keeps shifting about. Little squirrels hopping from tree to tree. There is no way to put them into any kind of order. Because of that, I have this constant anxiety that I will “misbehave.” I have a difficult time keeping track of myself in social situations and the more people that are present, the more difficult this becomes. Every bit of incoming stimulus triggers a thought which leads to cascading ideas. Each pressing itself to come out in a burst.