My Own Reality Show
It’s hard work being more than one “entity” and sharing a brain. I’m mentally & physically & emotionally exhausted. I’d like nothing more than to open up my skull, remove my brain, and stick it on a shelf for the night. Just let me be empty. No feelings. No thoughts. Nothingness. That sounds glorious. I’m so very tired of thinking. So many thoughts, coming at me from all sides, some being shouted at me by different voices in my head, some whispered into my ear. Mental noise. So much mental noise! Sometimes I fear I’m going to freak completely out, just going to snap from all the voices trying to talk over one another, each one vying to be heard. Some of the voices are male, some are children, many of them are females of different ages both young and old. Then there are the other, outsider voices which are (almost) always present in my mind. These are the voices of the news broadcasters, the sports announcers, the disc jockeys, the talk show hosts, and the paparazzi-all of whom exist in my head-and who bombard me with information, questions, and laughter. I also hear applause, cheering, and, more often, booing and heckling; sometimes I’m even threatened with violence. They are telling the story of my life as though it is unfolding live on TV and the world is watching. My every action is commented on, “liked” or “disliked”, critiqued, analyzed and gossiped about. I am currently the star of a reality TV show and I’m never sure if the “special guests” are going to talk me up or make fun of me. And it’s all live, in real time.
It is notable that I often “rewind” parts of the show and watch them over and over again. Sometimes I pause a scene, to look more closely at the physical details. I can’t erase anything I see or hear. That’s very important. I can’t erase what I hear. I may very well forget, but my subconscious never does. And while I can still recall listening to the sports announcers discuss my every move as I played tennis (actually just bouncing a ball off a brick wall) at about the age of 8-for example, one of the men would exclaim “Wow! What a great shot!”-the people who narrate my life now are not nearly as nice, as complimentary, as appreciated as the ones of my childhood. When I was 10, the news broadcasters praised my people skills, my high I.Q., my talents for art and short-stories… I was a celebrity in “Kellie World” and I was popular. By the time I was 13, though, all of this had changed. People (in my head) started making fun of me, criticizing me, and insulting me. There was –and is– often laughter in my head, laughter directed at me, and not in a good way. I must take the time now to note that not all of the K’s are very nice to us/me, and in my day-to-day life other K’s talk down to me, make fun of me, point and laugh, and worst of all, one of them slaps me in the face or even punches me. I’m my own worst enemy. Wow. I’ve never admitted that before, not even to a therapist. I guess that’s pretty important: the fact that I hit myself in the face. Hmm. Perhaps I should tell my psychiatrist about it… I wonder what she would say? Maybe I should write a short synopsis of my TV show and take that to her. Is it strange that I’ve never told her about all of this? You must remember that I’ve only just begun to trust my doctor, it took me 2 years to get comfortable with her, and so I started talking to her openly and honestly about 3 months ago. So there’s a TON of stuff that I haven’t told her yet. I go in to see her every week, and my mind just goes blank. I can never remember what I want to talk about or tell her. Actually, after the session is over, I usually can’t remember what happened anyway. She tells me that this is because I sometimes come to therapy in a switched state or I’ll switch while I’m in her office. I don’t know what to make of this. All I know is, my TV show is for mature audiences only due to bad language, drug use, sex, mature subject matter, and, I realize now, violence as well. I never thought about the violence until today. At least, not about any violence that K causes. She’s often been the victim of violence, but I’m surprised to learn that she can also be the perpetrator. Hmm. Oh well-I guess it makes for better television.