Crazy Five Year Olds

I just got off the phone with my dad. We hadn't talked in a couple of months. He is miserable and debating a third divorce. Not fun talk. It makes me unhappy. To paraphrase a friend or at least a friend of a friend I need to get over my dad-shit or it's going to ruin my life.

He left when I was five and it still kind of bothers me. My gut reaction as a well traveled five year old (I had recently run away to Long John Silver's in Manteca with a penny to buy dinner for the family and the therapist says that that speaks volumes about the way my personality developed) was to destroy and rip apart all of my Star Wars figures, records and record player. A little crazy destructive five year old who had recently become the man of the house. I guess that is when the cracks started to show. Still, to this day, I will check to make sure that the doors are locked in any house that I am in before I go to bed. I always know.

Now, this may seem crazy, but I don't think that little shit has ever left me. There is some duality going on internally and I suspect, he is the one screwing everything up. Just when I think I have it dialed in and have figured out how to be content if not even happy, he starts to move stuff around in my head leaving messes for me to constantly clean up. Or, even more subtle things so I don't even know that I am in the middle of a huge mess at all. It's like taking the batteries out of someone's remote or leaving their car window down inthe middle of a rainstorm. It's not too much, but just enough. He is the yin to my cartoon angel on the shoulder yang, constantly battling any good that I find and want to exploit. This could be why I have trouble sleeping.

Externally, I am riddled with fakery. I am a people pleaser and will say anything to manipulate someone or even hurt them for unconscious personal gains of some sort. I destroy things and hurt people without them even having any idea that it was me, in most cases. An emotional ninja who will flip out on you and then rock out on a guitar. Rocking out on guitar being an obvious trait of a well-schooled ninja. Another trait being Chinese stars or shurikens.

The fakery is who I want to be and the smoke and mirrors to distract from who I really am. That is why some can see right through it and spot the fakery right away. They know the comments are meant to appease and are miles from genuine. It has gotten to the point where I don't even really know what's real or fake anymore. I may really like you or I may just be faking it because I don't want to upset you. I don't want to upset anyone, ever.

It would all be great if it satisfied me somehow, but it just lays layers and layers of guilt on me that have to be continually peeled back to make me comfortable with myself when I am alone. Somebody told me that my problem is that I don't value myself and put myself at risk constantly for some reason as if I am daring myself to fuck up. Other people have made me feel like a fuck up lying in wait in any given social situation, especially with booze involved. That combined with utter self-absorption mixed with a fear of saying or doing something to hurt someone leaves me feeling like a Dr. Jekyl/Mr. Hyde type entity. So, when I get home today I will do my best to leave my box of Star Wars figures intact and see that as a step in the right direction of personal growth. I'm a laugh riot today.