It’s rather intriguing, this conglomerate of selves I collectively call me. That is of course depending upon which self is observing. Others of us find it confusing, irritating, and downright depressing.

A therapist might say I struggle with dysregulation. In fact, I found a great YouTube video from The Crappy Childhood Fairy that explains it quite well.  I know there’s more to the story. There’s probably much more to the story than I now know. In fact, it would seem a far more accurate explanation comes from another of our favorite, most admirably self-aware YouTubers, The Rings System.

Whether dysregulation or dissociation, it can be hard to stay on one track. This psyche is more like a collection of various sized spheres. Some microscopic. Some like beach balls. Some filled with courage and commitment and motivation. Some are quivering masses of fear or frustration or morbid depression. Some contain memories that aren’t half bad. Some are saturated with the stuff of vivid lived nightmares. None seem stable. Especially when agitated, they more or less fly around like ping pong balls in a lottery machine.

No matter which ball is in the slot, it may be displaced at any time. It’s rather difficult to plan or rely on anything when I may not be the same me this afternoon, tomorrow, certainly not next week. Unlike most people I know, the me that likes wood-crafting and the me that writes aren’t interchangeable. The writer me trying to build a desk would be a time-consuming exercise in frustration. The woodworker me, can build a desk a dozen different ways in imagination before settling on a final design. Quite a time saver. And yet is hard-pressed to even pen a materials list.

It would seem I/we are on a collective quest to comprehend the nature of this psyche and the world in which we find ourselves. Those are my words for it. I know, however, that others just want to hideaway.

The possibility of exposure is quite frightening to them. Others, given the chance, feel free to fly forth into realms of exquisite potential, yet restrain themselves at least to some extent in deference and defense of our less adventurous others. Some of us love to socialize, are quite animated, playful, and outgoing – in our context at least. Others don’t talk, perhaps don’t even know how to have a conversation.

An actual three year old in a group of adults is one thing. A three-year-old in an adult body trying to act like an adult among others is quite another. None of us, apparently, claim ownership of the core. None assume it’s our rightful place. Like a solar system without a sun, there is no radiant center to organize our orbits. There’s no ruler on the throne. Collective and cooperative organized leadership would seem the most practical solution. How does one organize such a diverse collective, especially if some don’t know they’re part of it?

So, those of us who can each take our turns, sometimes deliberately, often quite randomly and unexpectedly. Each expresses according to our individual nature and inclination for a time until eclipsed by our replacement. We endeavor to be patient, understanding and accepting of the process. However, the world doesn’t really have much of a place for such as we.

So, we aspire to create our own world within the world – one that accommodates fulfilling self-expression, the pursuit of meaning and purpose, and contributes something of service to others. Perhaps one day, if luck and longing prevail, we will have a circle of kindred and a real home, a place of our own, a center from which to thrive.

J. Bradley O © 2020

 

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