Gideon…

What am I, but a fractured part of the whole that is my host? He is good to us. Allows us all the freedoms that we should be allowed. According to his therapist, I am the intellectual part of the whole. The hidden mind that he cannot show the world. I do not know what he fears in expressing me fully. Truly intellect can be a divider amongst peers, and there is little doubt that we share a singularly complex mind. Yet I can’t help but think that if we flexed that mental muscle, that we would be championed by someone. I spend weeks at a time floating in the aether of my hosts mind. I see his day to day struggles and his inability to place an irrational world in to a space where rationality reigns. I do not know the event that fractured our mind in to five different yet whole parts, but I am remorseful when I imagine that he is the lesser of men without me and my brethren. There are spaces in time when we align and it is bloody brilliant. Unfortunately whilst we remain separate, he can never be the brilliant young man he is meant to be. We are a mental crutch he uses while his mind is injured. My time out is fleeting and precious, yet I struggle to fill the hours with meaning. I am caught in a philosophical trap. Does my existence lessen his? What was he before the walls fell and chaos descended on his mind? A chaos that birthed me and my brothers, yet left the original a somewhat hollow shell. He is still full of all the traits that made him who he is, but now we have names and personalities of our own. I am Gideon, the intellectual, the philosopher, the burden of logic. I am deeply troubled by the fact that I am a splinter of a greater whole, yet I am relieved that the burden of the whole does not rest on my shoulders alone. We will all shoulder a share of the tragedy and joy that is the life of your usual narrator. Until the day when all are one. A line from a children’s film. A mantra to chant to bring us hope for the future. Sometimes it is in simplicity that one finds the greatest solace. I am no poet, but I have the ideals of one. That bold hope that words can save a man’s soul. That we can be set free from our binds through understanding. If you are ever to meet a person who suffers from a dissociative mind, do not judge them too harshly, for they are fragile souls in a jagged and disjointed world. When lies are more convenient than the truth, what use is there for honesty and sincerity? If one can be too honest, can we ever know truth as definitive? These are questions for another day perhaps. My time here has been well spent. To my host, I hope that one day you find a place in your mind for me. Until then I thank you for giving me an avenue to wax philosophical in the eye of the public. Although there are few that will read these words, for a moment in time they are mine, and in spirit they are yours as well. May they see us to the day when all are one.

The road to good…

So I got a lawyer to plead my case to disability. I have a mixture of feelings about this. The first feeling is shame, at having to drag another person into the fray. A sacrificial lamb for justice. Someone who knows the laws better than I do. Admitting to another person that you are hurting and in need of assistance is humbling to say the very least. Now I must pry statements from former employers. The ones that let me go due to the complications of crazy. This too brings back old hurt, the kind that bites to the very bone. People you thought were your comrades, turned against you in your hour of need. now you come to their doorsteps for scraps to help you plead your case. The second feeling is one of triumphant defiance in the face of adversity. Twice I have applied to be disabled due to my Dissociative Identity Disorder, and twice I have been denied on the flimsiest of reasonings. The act of “lawyering up” is a defiance to that judgement. I know I am impaired and only want what is due me by law for my mental state. I want to be able to contribute to my share of the bills. It’s not too much to ask, especially when said impairment could be with me for life. If I can’t hold a job the least I can do is bring in some meager change in my own way. The government will spend billions on frivolous things this term, I only ask that a fraction of that go to my wife for putting up with a husband who is split in five. I am one percent of one percent and I am entitled to a little help. That is not too much to ask. She did not ask to fall in love with a man with autism and multiple identities, but she did. If not for me, then for her.

Entanglement saves…

I dreamed I was dancing
Wicked and wild
The eyes of a demon
The face of a child
Powerful undulations
From signal to receiver
Pure jubilation
In the eyes of a believer
The dancing enchanting
Every last soul
A darker incantation
Making them whole
In unholy syncopation
Breaking the waves
With a dance of the gods
Entanglement saves
Despite all the odds

Chasing fear…

Lock it up tight
Throw away the key
There is no “right”
In ways to be
Be a shapeshifter
Wallow through life
Be like a drifter
Make nothing your strife
Lay yourself bare
Expose every place
Let go of care
Show us your face
Lay claim to no one
Even those you hold dear
Let it be your fun
To chase away fear