He's coming

 I think I get it, why I've lived my life in the constant push and pull of two personalities. At 27 years old, I seem to be having an identity crisis. Or perhaps I shouldn't call it a crisis. It's not an absence of such, but the occurrence of more than one. It's not a matter of which is real or not. Both personalities are mine. My problem is how do I merge it into one. How do they meet in the middle? How do I get opposite personalities to find harmony in coexistence. 

I am the stereotypical "good" girl. Maybe I even encouraged it. Growing up, home is where I take off my mask. I was raised in the not-so-rare practice of going back and forth between my parents. I refuse to blame anybody or even the situation itself because I refuse to hurt anybody. My parents' are both victims of fate, and I honestly believe that they did the best they could given the complications. I commend them both for living through it. 

My Mom and I both adapted to the situation. My childhood consisted of many "visits". And each time was grand. Looking back there is always some type of preparation involved. Often it feels like he was a permanent guest in my life, and I spend every single day anticipating and preparing for his arrival. I always have to dress properly, act properly, eat properly, think properly or converse properly whenever he's around. The times I caught myself struggling, my Mom and I would put up a facade. Hide it until he leaves. That's how it had always been. And that part of me remains until today. 

When I was a teenager, I had a lot of anger for no reason at all. I was just mad. I fell in love with the life of the free spirited. I often wore black and I had a brief fascination with skulls and everything emo. Although my Mom understood this silly phase of mine, she knew my Dad wouldn't. So we devised a strategy to co-exist peacefully. Even though I was emo, I held back. I reserved a part of me that is pure and proper. She became the mask. And I flaunted her in front of my Dad, especially his relatives. My Mom and I, we got used to a life of "getting it over with".  Family reunion? Just go and get it over with. I can't tag along my friends because he's coming today? Just deal with it and get it over with. He won't understand my "style"? Just fake it and get it over with. 

I was never whole. I am constantly hiding a part of me every single day since I was a kid. I raised them both. I nourished them both. And now they both live inside me, each having their own minds. Each battling a way to outdo the other. For 27 years, this is my way of life. This is how I survived. I lie just to get it over with. I wait until he leaves. But some things in life, I realized, do not just leave. And when they don't, they hang around you. 

I look at my life and how I've always done things and wonder how did I end up here. I live in the expectations of people of me, that my only way of salvation is to please him. That's how I can get it over with. I live to see another day, then another day, and then one more. Before I know it, I have 27 years of backlogs. 27 years of mistakes I didn't acknowledge. 27 years of confrontations I didn't participate in. 27 years of my life managed to fit itself into my brain and I'm running out of storage. I can't get it over with. I refuse to the get it over with. It corrupts me instead, from within, like cancer. And the worse part is, it manifests in some very toxic reactions.

I have a personality disorder for sure. I have anger management. I have excessively high and unrealistic expectations of other people. My imagination gets hyperactive, to the point where I spend hours just making stuff up in my head. My judgment gets clouded and I can't think straight. 

I am not a "good" girl. I refuse to become one because there is no such person. This side of me, this imperfect part of me, exists in a different realm. When I'm alone. When I'm comfortable. In front of the screen. But she's brave because she keeps on going. She realizes it's okay to catch up. It's ok to be confused and lost. It's ok because nobody can see you struggle anyway. Nobody's here to witness your downfall. Not until he visits again. 

Because when he visits, the "good" girl comes back. Then my failures turn into lessons not to repeat again. There's no time to waste because he's coming and you can't cry. You have to be strong, to switch off your emotional side because by the time he comes, you must have already recovered. You must have already learned. You must have already crafted a plan B. Hide your failures and show off your achievements, if you have any. Or better yet, never announce them for good. Bury them, so they never see the light of day. After all, it will save you the sermon, the unnecessarily and exceedingly painful words that gets carved in your psyche, echoing the very thoughts you already know. 

But life has a funny way to play with you. He realizes you don't pay attention to it, so it gives you one mistake after another. So now you're preoccupied. You can't get it over with because it's too much, too heavy, and too tiring. Each personality passing the ball to the other, hoping one of them gets a solution, and pronto. Because he's coming.

In fact, he's here..

And he's going to hurt you, as if you don't already feel the pain. In his mind, you should have recovered by now.

 But that's the thing. He repeats exactly what I've been overthinking. The blame. The pity. The anger. Everything that I don't manifest into the real world, he will say it out loud with conviction. He will make sure that you know it is your fault. That everything you've done leading to your mistake was to blame for. Newton's law. Action, reaction. It is your action, hence, the failure is the direct result of your action. 

I already know that. And I'm doing my best to make peace with it, because otherwise, it will consume me. And I might just refuse to fix things altogether. Oh but please be my guest, tell the world. Put a medal on it. I'm sure I can take it. Until I can't.