Do It Yourself Lobotomy?

I already have a headache so I don't think taking a drill to the front of my head would really increase that pain level. On the other hand, it might relieve a large number of issues that keep recurring within my head. I'm tired of fighting with myself. Why is there always a conflict between logic and emotion? Why can neither seem rational when put up against the other? Why can I recognize certain things as extremely healthy thinking and yet not be able to stay with those thoughts? Why can recognize illogical and unhealthy thinking and yet not be able stop it or redirect it? My own bloody head and I still feel so out of control. I read in a book that another book says that a guy says emotion comes from thought so if we can control our thoughts we can control our emotions and our mood and apparently we can control our thoughts like we can control what color socks we wear.

Oh wait - I hate socks and when I do have to wear them, I have trouble finding ones that match so if I can even find ones that match, I generally just go with whichever I find first, regardless of their color. I would say that's a bad metaphor, except that's kind of exactly my point. *evil grin*

Here's a sampling of the conflicting concepts floating around my head. I'm not going to go into the arguments they generate or the details of where they come from or lead to, I just want to document the polar extremes of them...

It would be easier to live without a conscience because, without a conscience, not only could I do whatever I wanted without feeling bad, I wouldn't feel bad about not feeling bad.

I have a tremendous strength: I am intensely interested in understanding things from the other person's POV. I think I can use that to get past my past, to move on. The things that trip me up and generate the unshakable (despite being illogical) undermining self-talk are things that I have been told and can find no reason why I would be told that unless it were true. Maybe if I can understand what would make someone say something like that to me, other than the reasons I have in my head to explain it, maybe I can work through it.

It shouldn't be this hard to just breathe, every minute of every day.

I think I would enjoy being a psychologist. But I have so many questions about it and no one to ask and not the confidence to tell anyone with any answers that I even remotely think I have the capacity to even think of thinking of becoming one. Perhaps I can find the information under the guise of research for a story, which would be perfectly plausible because several of my stories feature shrink-type people.

I am a liar of the worst kind: I tell lies that I won't even admit are lies. Apparently, my very approach to life is to create as many lies as possible. Apparently, not standing up for a point of view or an opinion, letting it slide and discussing the issue on the other person's level... apparently this is lying. I am a liar in my heart and in my intent, as I am told, even if not in the letter of my words. I am a liar in the spirit of the law if not in the letter of it.

I am exactly like my mother in all the wrong ways and nothing like her in any of the good ones. My worst fear has always been to become the dark side of my mother and here I am. My biggest wish was to become to good side of my mother and I have missed the mark so far I can't even see it anymore.

What exactly is the problem with being manic? Isn't there someway to be manic and control the negative side-effects? When I was "manic" I didn't NEED sleep. Three hours was fine and I was up and flying. When I was manic, I didn't care about many things that tear me up now. When I was manic, I could stand my ground and even advance forward. When I was manic, I could understand each of my Voices so much clearer, more distinctly, more separately, and recognize them for who they are, what their roles are in my head. When I was manic, I didn't have to pretend to laugh. When I was manic, I had ideas coming out of me so fast I couldn't write them down quick enough. Yes, I had bugs crawling on my skin, and I skipped town without telling anyone anything, and I burned the hell out of myself and not only didn't notice, I didn't give a flying... fart. And I forgot to pay the bills. But I had energy!! I had LIFE!!

I think I am only mentally ill because I choose to be. I choose my thoughts, or so I've read. I choose my actions, as I have been told. I should be able to just be better. It is only because nothing has triggered my tipping point to make me get off my fat lazy ass and change my ways. It is weakness and choice that is causing my symptoms. I need to snap out of this. I need to suck it up and do it anyway. I need to grow up.

My entire life is fiction. Nothing I say is the truth and nothing I have lived through really happened. It's all just one big story, with me as the "poor unfortunate soul" in the center trying to get attention in all the wrong ways.

I could do it. I could get better. I could let myself think the good things. I could consider the possibilities. I could grow and evolve and heal.

I could do it. I could take every pill in every bottle and go to sleep and this time I wouldn't wake up and have to live with the results. I'd be gone and whatever mess is left behind would no longer be my problem. I could do it.

I love my children more than I love myself. I would kill to protect them where I wouldn't raise a hand in my own defense. I want to be the kind of Mommy they deserve. I want to do the right things at the right time in the right way. And I'm not.

"I want to change the world. Instead I sleep." from Ingrid Michaelson's song "Keep Breathing" in which I swear she had picked my brain and spilled it out to music. "All I can do is keep breathing..."

What would happen if I quit? If I just stopped trying. I could go away and never bother coming back and not leave anyone in charge. Just stare at the ceiling and never have to see it. Never speak again... never think again... never fight again...

Why am I so fascinated and drawn to actors, okay, hot actors? I get sucked into their characters, pulled in to their eyes and their storylines. Then I have to know more. I have to know how much of the actor is in the character and the other way around? Who is the actor and how does he become the character? What kind of person does it take to become so many different kinds of people, live them, breathe them, feel them, think them... then not be them and move on? Patrick Dempsey is hot. And McDreamy is the kind of guy no woman actually thinks exists anymore. But when you dig deeper - Patrick Dempsey and Derek Shepard aren't that different. And the mystery fades. (Even though the butt and eyes and smile and integrity are still HOT!!) Jensen Ackles is hot. And Alec is dark, broody, self-involved, cocky, and HOT! And Dean is cocky and self-assured and more troubled than he cares to show and more sensitive than he'd ever admit. I haven't seen him on the other shows. And I can't quite get a read on Jensen Ackles. Alec and Dean are like shades of each other. Is this just Jensen with a storyline? No fun... Johnny Depp has the potential to be HOT. Captain Jack Sparrow has irresistible charm but Willy Wonka kinda makes me vomit a little in the back of my throat. Gilbert Grape is deep and carries the weight of the world but Edward Scissorhands is just scared and lonely. And then there are the interviews with Johnny Depp. He is all of them and none of them and he is fascinating beyond belief! I get so involved with these characters and what makes them tick until I dig so deep I run into the actors and then I have to keep digging until I understand what makes them who they are. Perhaps I shall give up this anonymous life as a SAHM from the Midwest and become a celebrity stalker... ;-)

Why, when all I want is to be invisible and left alone, do I fantasize about being noticed by the people who never notice people like me? I would die of embarrassment if a celebrity spoke to me. I almost cracked when I got a call from a politician on the campaign trail... I don't ever want to be seen, let alone by someone important, someone who has a million people to see. And yet I secretly wonder what if I was noticed by someone like that? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!??!

I want to change the world... instead, I sleep.

All these thoughts and more bounce and roll around in my head, sometimes taking turns, sometimes colliding all at once. Sometimes they play off each other, one triggering the next or defending the last. I'm tired of thinking. I'm tired of thinking the wrong things. I'm tired of thinking and not getting anywhere. I don't want to think any more. I want a lobotomy... I hear the brain transplants haven't made it out of clinical trials yet.

"I want to change the world. Instead I sleep....... All I can do is keeping breathing." ("Keep Breathing", Ingrid Michaelson)