A reason why I question my sanity.

I tried to tell him about this yesterday but I failed horribly. Heck, I tried to tell counselors about this in the past, and they didn't really listen to me even. I'm afraid to talk about this because I'm pretty sure that I'd be declared the dangerous kind of crazy and locked away somewhere, never to really live the rest of my life. I'll admit it, I'm terrified of the thought of being insitutionalized. I'll talk a bit more about that in another post, because it'll just serve to distract me from what I want to say here.

Sometimes... sometimes, I suppose I could say that I hear voices in my head. Sure, I know, I hear whispers from the other side and such as a psychic, but I know this is in my head. There's always a difference between what is inside my head and what is not. I'm not that fractured yet. I hope to god I never am.

I suppose it all started when I was a kid. I had a voice in my head, a male voice, that usually said pretty horrific things. It's the voice that whispered to me how I should have killed my beloved pet cat Sandy because it would be possible. It suggested that doing so would relieve the anxiety that I felt. That happened when I was about 15. I don't know when that voice started whispering to me, possibly when I was about 9 or 10.

I don't remember much of those early whispers, but it was present. This was the voice that told me I should just start hitting people when I'm angry, that it'd make me feel better. I knew that was wrong, so I didn't do it. But that voice still whispers such things to me in my head. It scares me, because it's become more complex in the things it says. I think I hear it whispering to me around 30 times a day. If I'm having a bad day, I'm angry, or something else like that, that voice makes it's presence known even more.

I can't say if I'm comfortable with it. Other people I know apparently have a similar monster in their head. Some have chosen to ignore it and other have chosen to find amusement in it. I don't know what to do with it. I'll have times where I am filled with a sudden, visceral urge to do something horrible, like throw a pot of boiling water on my infant son or shove the little old biddy walking in front of me on the sidewalk, jabbering away on her cell phone right out in front of the truck that's barreling down the highway. Those times, I immediately distract myself with something else, usually the exact opposite of that urge. I'll pick up my son and cuddle him, and tell him how much I love him. I'll walk in the opposite direction of the old woman who's presence irritates me.

It's not that I don't love my son. It's not that at all. I adore my son. I love him and would rather die then harm him. I haven't harmed him and will do everything in my power not to. Please, don't anyone think that is the case. And this has been in my head alot longer then the postpartum depression thing too. My ability to shut that voice up... to just turn it off... well, that's what got screwed up by the postpartum depression. I used to be able to just will it into silence. Now... now it doesn't work that well.

My family wonder why I listen to music so often, it's because it distracts my attention from that voice and the others in my head. On the whole, it scares me. What happens if, someday, I'm no longer strong enough to resist it? What happens then? I don't want to hurt people. Especially the people I love or people who are defenseless (like children or the elderly). It's there, though, in the back of my head all the time.

I've had people look at me like there's something horribly wrong with me because I can tell them with relative ease where to cut a person to make them bleed out quickly. They get disturbed when I will sit and talk about poisoning people as though it's as easy as cooking dinner. It's actually easier, but they don't generally want to hear that. No... instead, I get troubled looks and people who move away from me. I find myself more isolated then I began because I just was talking about the wrong things, apparently.

Social isolation really isn't good for me. It makes me more depressed. I'm usually dealing with some degree of depression most of the time anyways, so I try not to think about the bad days where I find myself in a position where I'm actively being pushed away. The worst part of it all is how that male voice in my head tells me that no one really wants me in their life. It tells me that I'm not really loved by people but being used by them, that I'm only as valuable as what I can do for others. That male voice tells me about how everyone I love... I hurt them just by existing. I have some how emotionally hurt them and will someday cause them greater harm just by the virtue of my existence. It tells me that I'm the reason why my family has such financial difficulties, and the only way that we'll be in a better place financially is if I go out and prostitute myself.

I hear other ugly things in my head on a daily basis. At one point, I was put on medication for depression and I had the idiot thought that maybe it would work to help shut that voice up in my head. The other voices in my head, I like them. They're generally decent and nice. They don't get abusive towards me or others. It, however, is something I don't talk about. It's bad enough to have a raving sociopath inside your head, to admit that there's a child or something else in there... you start sounding like Sybil and people start to look for a white coat for you. And don't you dare mention the fact that the sociopath is violent, or you'll be at risk for getting drugged.

No... no, I don't mention this. I'm terrified of being pushed away by the people I love for that reason on top of so many others that could be found for some reason. I've already been met with scorn for my choice of religion. I'm terrified to even bring sexuality into the conversation, as I've seen the people who I thought were tolerant suddenly have the highest degree of scorn towards the remote idea that I may enjoy BDSM or anything else remotely like it.

So, I do my best to be the person that I'm expected to be, that I'm supposed to be. In a limited fashion, I'm allowed to let some of the other less threatening elements out. The artist is welcome, as is the poet. I'm tolerated the child's presence in the correct environment, like when I'm playing with children. It's funny... people wonder why I'm so good with kids. It's more then the fact that I have few qualms about providing structure in their lives via guidance and discipline. I think like them at times too.

Honestly, it bothers the hell out of me when people tell me that I should relax and just let myself be who I am. With all of this noise in my head, what exactly am I supposed to let out? Do I admit to the fact that each aspect/element/voice in my head have a personality that is different from the others. I try to synthesize all of this into one but it doesn't work too well. Hence my fairly regular struggle with depression. I feel like I'm trying to glue together a crystal goblet that has shattered into hundreds of pieces. I may be able to cobble together some of it, but there's a lot that I just can force together.

So, I wonder, am I crazy? Because I can ask that question, does it mean that I'm not?

I don't know and that scares me.