SO, we have this class called “Web Expressions.” In it, we had to make a blog. I would link it, but it says what college we go to and we don’t want that information just publicly available for any violent hater out there that has a few hours of free time and a crowbar, SOOOO.. Here’s my first post on it. We’ll continue to post the entries there over here so the people who want to read the posts can do so.
IT’S LONG, SO LOOK OUT.
I haven’t spilled the contents of my thinkmeats anywhere for a while, so since this blog is now a thing that we have to maintain, I might as well gut my brain and splay it all out here for your amusement. “You” is, of course, referring to the fellow members of the class with whom I frequently discuss the morals and other such banal topics that modern philosophers must mentally berate until they can only wonder how the topic even came about. Seeing as how this blog is also meant to be read by fellow multiple systems and possibly ‘kin of all types, however, I’ll keep this in a somewhat colloquial format. Those not “in” on these topics should hopefully be able to follow along, while those “in” on it should be able to relate in my frustration regarding the sticky topic of “coming out.”
I find this to be an appropriate first post, seeing as how we’re effectively outing ourselves to a small group of our peers. Naturally, we’re all expecting hate of some sort, no matter how undeserved it is, because all hate based on any sort of mental, spiritual, physical, whatever the fuck thing is undeserved and uncalled for. If you want to hate on us, anyway, then keep in mind that you don’t know us. You don’t know the life we’ve lived, you don’t know how many therapists we’ve seen and talked to, you don’t know how much being multiple has hurt us and helped us, and you don’t know how much hate we’ve already gotten — from both internal and external sources. Nothing you could say would be anything we haven’t heard before, either from ourselves or some other special, special snowflake attempting to make us see the error of our ways, or whatever the hell it was they were planning to accomplish. You don’t know if we’re faking or not, either, really, but hopefully from this entry and the ones soon to follow it, you’ll come to believe that we’re not faking, even if you don’t necessarily believe that multiplicity is a real thing. Hell, one of my headmates isn’t entirely convinced that he’s not just batshit insane from too much mental and emotional stress and that he created everyone else as a defense mechanism. All things considered, if that was the case, I really wouldn’t give a shit, because I know who I am and even if I’m a delusion, I’m a real person with real feelings, just like anyone else. Whether or not I’m living in my own body and whether or not I share that body with several other people is irrelevant. If I’m mentally ill and you decide that hating my headmates and I is the proper course of action, then you will be mocking and verbally flogging a mentally ill person for their mental illness. That is seriously fucked up and if that’s what you like to do in your free time, then you need therapy more than I do, and I have other people living in my head.
Now then, to anyone that thinks we’re faking for whatever reason, whether that be attention-seeking, to feel “special,” because Daddy didn’t hug us enough, whatever, I cannot even begin to fathom why anyone would wish this upon themselves. Imagine that you wake up one day to find that you’re in the middle of a crowded mall sitting with someone you don’t recognize and they’re mid-sentence, talking in a conversation that you were suddenly thrust into against your will and that you have no idea what they’re talking about. Now imagine that if you act as confused, startled and scared as you feel, that the other person will immediately ask what’s wrong and being smothering you with attention, because that person obviously cares about you, on some level (otherwise, why the hell would they be talking to you in the middle of a mall?). Now imagine that you have to act calm and normal and try to figure out what the conversation is about before they finish talking and that you have to contribute and make it seem as though everything is normal. Now imagine that that other person is your over-protective mother, who is aware of your uneasy mental health history and may or may not attempt to dump your sorry, crazy ass in a mental institution. That is our every day — and that’s on a good day. The other side of this is that because other people share your body, you can’t do whatever you want with it. What you see in the mirror, whether you like it or not, is subject to a massive democratic vote when it comes to major things, such as body modifications (piercings, cosmetic surgery, etc.), or mundane things, like haircuts and the day’s wardrobe. You have next to no control over your appearance. Oh, and let’s not forget about friendships. Lovely, lovely friendships. Tell the people you know the truth and they’ll never look at you the same way again — and it’s usually not in the way you’d like. Stay in the closet and they’ll know you how they want to know you, rather than knowing you for who you are. You will find it next to impossible to make friends with people who don’t know about your “condition” because you can’t share any details about who you really are. For instance, if your favourite movie is Avatar, you can’t tell your newfound friend. Why? Because it won’t always be true. When someone else fronts, their favourite movie might be Finding Nemo or Electric Space Monkeys 5: Revenge Of The Flaming Poop. Keep in mind, though, that that’s just a minor example. The same logic applies to religion, life philosophy, literally everything you hold dear to you. If I could just “turn this off, ” I would, because I’m really goddamn sick of all the bullshit I have to go through because of my headmates. I don’t blame them, though, because they all go through the same shit that I do.
This brings me to my next thought — integration. Integration is essentially forcefully “turning it off” and combining all of the “parts” into one, so that the system in question is no longer a system. Fuck. No. We. Are not. Integrating. We view integration as the systematic murder of individuals and basically throwing all of their thoughts into a blender until a Frankenstein monstrosity crawls out of the wreck and is “fixed.” My unedited thoughts on this: HELL FUCKING NO! As much as I get annoyed and irritated by being multiple, our collective life has gotten INFINITELY better in terms of stress, school performance and social anxiety and we would never give any of that up for anything. My headmates are my family, whether I like it or not, just like blood-family. We didn’t choose to be here, and rest assured, if I could choose my headmates, I would NOT have chosen this group, as mean as that sounds. I love them, but holy bean dip do they piss me off sometimes. If someone asked YOU to kill everyone in your family — including yourself — and blend them all into one person, would you do it? I think not. Some systems do require integration, for one reason or another, but those systems usually strike me as being disordered and unable to function in daily life — which we are not. I seriously doubt that anyone in this class thought that anything was “wrong” with me, aside from maybe some eccentric behaviour. We’re an honours student, for fuck’s sake. Clearly, we’re doing something right.
Now, I’ve been typing for over an hour and I’m starting to get pretty mentally exhausted. I’m starting to wring my current thoughts on this dry, but I’ll keep typing and making you less and less interested in the stupid shit I have to say until I damn well please. What I want to end this with is that just because I identify with a fictional character (which has a long story behind how that even came to be a thing), does not give anyone the right to trample all over me and think less of me. I’m sharing personal details with you people by choice, against better judgement, probably, but I am SO SICK of having to hide who I am down to not even being able to tell people what MY name is — REALLY is — that I don’t even give a fuck anymore! If you REALLY want to go ahead and tell me, “You can’t be that character because he is a character in a comic and you are a real person,” thank you for telling me something I already know. I don’t exactly know if I believe in past lives or the multiverse theory (the idea that there are an infinite number of universes, each one being different in drastic or minute ways, and so any work of fiction would probably actually exist in one of these multiverses. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that if an infinite number of monkeys were typing on an infinite number of typewriters for infinity, one of them would eventually type out The Beatles discography in its entirety), but I do know that I read a comic in which a character with my exact ideal body image, down to the height (I thought for so many years that our body was 5’ 9”, but it’s actually 5’ 7”), spitting out thoughts that I’ve kept to myself since my childhood while battling three distinct mental forces and calmly discussing, debating and being calmed down by a friendly fourth force that would often go tragically ignored by his own frenzied stupidity. I don’t need to justify anything else, and I shouldn’t even have to justify anything. If someone tells you something personal about themself, don’t question it, goddamnit. It probably took a lot of courage to share what they shared, and the last thing they need is someone that they trusted to be shooting them down. Privacy is a right, not a privilege, and that includes privacy of the mind. No one is obligated to share anything with you if they don’t want to just because they identify differently than you or they seem a little “weird.” The sooner the general public realizes that, the better, although I seriously doubt said general public is open-minded enough for such a selfless and tolerant feat.
In closing, I’M HERE. I’M WEIRD. GET USED TO IT.
-Johnny “Nny” C.