i was talking to someone the other day and in this conversation, they mentioned a person they’d loved being a sociopath. this and recent drama has gotten me thinking and remembering and reveling and questioning. basically, i’ve been in my head for the past, what 36 hours or so?
three? years ago, during my winter break down, i was diagnosed by a psychiatrist (and it was agreed upon by three other medical professionals as grounds for holding me to psychiatric care, should i get “worse”) as someone suffering from the undocumented “full spectrum personality disorder.” this made-up disorder basically summed it up as me having three or more of the characteristics of most personality and mood disorders, as well as some other ones, just for kicks. diagnosis was like a chain reaction:
bipolar disorder (type 2), but no massive lows and mania was atypical
⇓
schizophrenia, based on aural and visual hallucinations, but since i didn’t have religious delusions and a non-existent sense of grandeur
⇓
antisocial personality disorder, but i was missing the lack of concern for laws and also have a heightened guilt complex (after the fact)
⇓
OCD (which i still have problems with – try that with a one year old!)
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borderline personality disorder (unstable interpersonal relationships? check. rapid mood changes and need to not be left alone? check. rageaholic? yahuh.)
⇓
dissociative personality disorder, based on fugues or blackouts wherein i would run around like a normal person, but like sleepwalking, actually have no memory of the times i was “out”
+
excessive/aggressive/dominant sexuality
+
substance use
+
eating disorder
+
ADD
=
1 fucked up girl, high on coke, crystal and caffeine, who hasn’t slept in days. she’s smoking and drinking away her rent money, which she can’t make back because she quit her three jobs with no notice within a three day period. her phone’s been disconnected, but she still has a cell and the internet’s still up (cuz it’s in her ex’s name anyways) so she’s active on msn and myspace and this is how she chooses when she will meet the two men she will sleep with in the next week (but not kiss) and not call them afterwards because she was done using them. she makes food for other people, but never eats. dates a girl and invites her to move in after a week and then throws her out because the furniture was moved when she was out. she radiates fragility and spits venom towards anyone who wants to pick up her pieces. she just wants to be saved or to sleep forever or to be wanted by anyone or everyone. she is willing to believe that she controls everything, when in fact, she’s only in control of how far over she will bend to receive what she thinks she deserves. she would choose manipulation over intimacy, violence over gentility, lust over love. she craves and thinks passion but she really feels nothing. just like in the good old days of chasing dragons with syringes.
it seems as though i’ve come a long way since that winter. at least my diagnosis has – now i’m apparently cyclothymic. but then again, not that far and how far is far enough? yeah, i might be a bad person, but at least we can surmise that i will always feel sorry about it later.
