Bring Your Alter-Ego Along

There’s a crowd in my head, and it’s getting louder...

Before the noise drowns me out, allow me to introduce my selves.

First, there’s me. I need space, and lots of it. I’m prone to frequent bouts of claustrophobia, and I think mostly of running. To anyplace, as long as it’s open and vast. And far, far away.

Then, there’s me. I need enclosures to make me feel safe, protected. A hug does well. My car does, too.

And here I am. I see reality. I recognize it for what it is, and am clinical in my observation and assessment.

And here I am too. I dream. I refuse to let what’s in front of my eyes dictate to me its terms and conditions. I believe that someday, things will be alright. We will be alright.

This is me. I thrive on seclusion. I’m sadomasochistic in my loneliness and do a good job of elevating it to self-righteousness.

And me...I love company. I love the attention and I love the spotlight. It brings out the best in me.

Oh, wait, here I am. I’m unsure about a lot of things, and I hesitate and I agonize over small, insignificant things that don’t need a moment’s thought, really.

And this is me. I’m confident. I’m not given to worrying because I know I’m right. And even if I’m not, I don’t really care what anyone thinks.

Here I am, again. I can never be good enough. For anything. For anyone.

And then there’s me. I’m the best! But didn’t you know that already?

This is me. I cry over spilt milk and obsess over how things could possibly have gone wrong.

But then there’s me. I fetch a cat to get rid of the mess and then get rid of the cat too.

Here I am. I’m given to being haunted by ghosts. No matter how far I run, I cannot outrun them. Sometimes, I don’t even want to.

There’s me. I hear angels. I hear the voice of hope. I see yellow and white and gold. And feel love.

This is me. I’m dark, negative and brooding, cynical and sceptical. I turn inwards for comfort.

But there’s also me. I have corners that are flooded with sunshine and warmth. I am joyful and optimistic and reach out easily to others, to share my goodness.

I think of what Walt Whitman once said -

“Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am vast; I contain multitudes.”

And I know that I contain multitudes too.

And through recognizing, discerning this multitude in me, I understand the multitude in you.