sick, twisted and manically neurotic

The last couple of weeks have crystallized a fact that I’ve been hiding from. There is no more hiding. Denial has become impossible. And acceptance is an unacceptable course of therapy. However, just like in the AA classes, I’m going to stand up and say, “Hi, I’m Augustine. And I’m sick, twisted and manically neurotic.”

There. Now that I’ve said that openly, albeit in an anonymous forum, I feel much better. This is how it unraveled:

Moment of Realization 1:
Walk into a dinner. Lots of people. I’m definitely late because lots of people seem to have finished what I think was lots of food. There are only empty platters now. Wrap my arms around myself and stand there looking for a familiar face. Spot one and almost run over but remind myself to walk. I say hi and stand there still looking at the guests. He asks, “What the hell happened to your arm??” I look at it, make this pphhffttt sound, wave my hands and say, “Cat fight.” and start looking around the room again. “Cat fight?! With whom??” Eh? Did he just ask me ‘with whom’? Didn’t I just tell him ‘cat fight’? What an idiot. I get on tip toe, slap him on the head and say, “I just said so! Cat fight!” He’s looking at me like I’m the one who’s crazy. “Yeah woman – but who’d you beat up?” I have an ‘Ohhhhh’ moment and I realize that while my brain was literally stating the fact – normal human beings don’t get into literal cat fights. So I explain it to him, “My cat? We had a fight? She beat the f*ck out of me. See? Black and blue and these gashes. Yeah. My cat. I lurrrve her. So yeah, cat fight.” He stood there for a while, not moving much, mouth open. I think if he’d stayed that way a second longer he would have drooled – not in the ‘ohmygawd I want that’ sort of way but rather the ‘I live in a mental asylum and I just drool, so sue me’ kind of way. I was going to hand over the cute, little pink tissue with yellow flowers to him but he closed his mouth. “You’re crazy. People don’t get into cat fights with their cats!” I nod in agreement as I sip my drink. “I mean, what the hell sort of person gets beaten black and blue by their cat??” I nod again and sip again. “You realize that’s not normal? For your cat or for that matter – even you! Have you put her to sleep?” I nod, sip and say, “Yeah yeah, made sure I did that before I came here. Gave her food, sat with her for a bit till she dozed off on my bed.” He’s about to hit me I think. Or maybe he’s epileptic and he doesn’t know it? Possible, possible. He insists this is not normal feline or female behavior. That’s when I hear myself saying it: “I know. I’m sick, twisted and manically neurotic.”


Moment of Realization 2:
This beggar pissed me off at a traffic light. When it turned green, I hit the pedal and the friend who was following me (that’s another story) made a panic call. I didn’t pick up. I mean, come on. It’s not safe to talk on your cell phone when you’re driving. When we got to my place he got off his car yelling, “You were hitting 140!” I opened the gate smiling wryly, “You’re crazy. I wasn’t going that fast at all..” He’s jumping up and down in the middle of the street, “You.Were.Hitting.140!” I stop to look at him before I get into my car and say, “That beggar annoyed me.” “And?? Then you drive like a complete pagal woman??” Now we’re standing in the middle of the street arguing. He’s giving me some lecture about speed limits. I’m telling him he can’t read his speedometer right. He’s looking around for a rock or something. Eventually I admit that it was possible I was speeding ‘a little’ but really, that was because I was just sick of these beggars and it did help that the road was clear. Friend is shaking his head, “You’re just crazy.” I correct him, “No it’s just that I’m sick, twisted and manically neurotic.”

Moment of Realization 3:
I had a perfectly normal conversation with the guy I was going to marry and maybe even have a few babies with. That’s huge. He dumped me solid. Didn’t even bother to make up a good excuse. Just did this laadeedaa thing one day and said, “Oh. Hey, it’s over. So what else is up?” I had this normal, friendly chat with him the other day. I can’t understand how. I mean, I was all messed over being dumped and all you know? Like torn up and stuff. Like devastated and shit. Like depressed out of my tiny skull and so on. But I called him up, asked for a favour and talked to him in an unusually friendly and polite manner. Surely I must be sick, twisted and manically neurotic?

Moment of Realization 4:
I talk to my plants. Like, we have a conversation. Like, we’re friends.

Moment of Realization 5:
I wave to Bono. Even if it’s his face staring back at me from a magazine.

Moment of Realization 6:
I eat Nutella straight from the jar.

Moment of Realization 7:
A couple of sane friends told me I had ‘serious neurosis’.

Moment of Realization 8:
I’ve been iLogging about the ‘other’ for way too long. I definitely need to get a couple of bricks. Best to use those on myself before I move on to 'other' things.

Moment of Realization 9:
I’m still iLogging. Even when I know it’s this lame ass compulsion. I also put time stamps on each entry.

Moment of Realization 10:
I’m still here.

Hah. Hopeless.

Hi. I’m Augustine. I’m sick, twisted and manically neurotic. Pleased to meet you.

16/05/08; 11:17am