Never been one to let the carrier drop

So, I don’t really know who did what. There’s no way to know. For all I know, I did all this to myself. If you all want it to be my fault, that’s fine with me. I just want it to stop hurting, and want shrinks to stop fixing me-for-other-people at the cost of hurting me-for-me, which is real popular.

$person, it’s not like you’d suddenly start talking to me if I was 100% complient. So I’m not even going to try. I’m going to try, instead, to scale my psych meds to give me the best system performance, and to give me manias timed for when I can take vacation time from my day job, and to make sure I lock out access from the internet and go far away from cars and the like. Basically, make them safe for the rest of the world.

In other words, fuck y’all, I’m living for me. You all want me to live for you instead, you’re going to have to convince me there’s a reason to want to.

So, you should probably read these in reverse chronological order, meaning you should read them from oldest to newest. See that category marked $person, over there on the right? Yah, click that. 😉

That said, I have a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing to you. For example, when I said something about what are you going to do about having a child, what I meant is, how are you going to handle it if one of your children has a mental illness (which does, believe me, happen) if you can’t handle one of your friends having one.

And the bit about me not even owning a gun.. what I meant to say was “I would never ever use force on you”. I don’t know how that got so tripped up coming out of my fingers.

Remember, I’m afraid of you being afraid of me, and that’s a nasty, nasty, nasty feedback loop. And I can’t just not care about you – I can’t remove you from my history, or from people I care about, or make how I feel about you have unhappened.

I’m in love with you. That’s a fact. It doesn’t have to be a major detriment on your life. I’ve got people in my life who are in love with me who I’m not in love with. It doesn’t keep us from being friends. However, me being in love with you does, often, make me say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time when you’re concerned.
Please remember that the part of me that needs to understand what happened is *still a young teen*. Never aged. Time stopped for him. Think of him as a process sitting at a breakpoint.

You remember what that was like? Now throw in DID, mania, and the whole box of cookies I’m trying to keep juggled, including adulting, a day job, a music career, and helping my friends not go under.. I actually think I’m doing quite well, but I’m sure Clint will inform me about how well I’m not doing. But sometimes the amazing thing about the dancing bear is not how well it dances but that it dances at all.

So, when the protective order runs out, I’m going to do my best to *not* run over there and try to convince you to talk to me again. Instead, I’m going to ask ALL my friends for help, and use the gentlest, most careful way I can think of, because at this point, I’m convinced, yes, you’re scared out of your mind too. I don’t know if this is because I’m not seeing the real $person but rather reflected light from you inside the warped and twisted reality engine that is my mind outside my CE, and on the edge you’re just fine, or if this is really how you feel. But I’m gonna keep playing it like it’s real until it’s either utterly clear it’s not or something changes.

FWIW, I won’t call you, but you are free to call me. I want you to call me. And I won’t talk about anything a coworker at a place of business wouldn’t talk about, at least until we’ve negotiated a lowering of DEFCON level and figured out what if anything can be salvaged of our friendship. If that helps any. At the very least, it would mean a lot to me if we could get to strangers at DEFCON 5 and me knowing what you saw happen at the party where what I saw happen was a system crash and a suicide by drowning of *me* and a running away from my parents but still being captured and hurt and hurt and hurt.

You all will notice there are a number of users that post on this blog. Each one represents a alter, or a DID personality. There are likely to be more, not less, because I think I’m committed to giving all my secrets away. People at the edge, if you can see me, very real, loving, worth keeping personality down here where the light is shining. Me. Keep me. I’m worth keeping. Really.

As many of you may or may not have guessed, I’m able to completely close off this aspect of myself and just be Sheer. That’s fairly easy, although Sheer is not always the most comfortable or happiest guy around – he does have his moments. There are definitely some good times in my life. It’s not without joy. It just doesn’t have nearly as much of it as it probably should have, and I feel very closed in and constrained and afraid a lot of the time.

So, here we are again. Me writing you. Except not as email, because your request that I not do so was starting to come with handcuffs. So I’ll do it here.

Look, despite some of the insane emails that I’ve sent you in years past, I don’t expect you’ll be my lover. I am, however, hoping you can find time to be my friend, at least enough time to help me put together my memories of what happened at your party enough that they make some kind of sense.

I’m *begging* you for help. My mind is badly damaged. I don’t even know if it is a closed head injury from a rear end impact in a car with no airbags at 60 mph (I was stopped, he wasn’t) or if it’s psychological damage from some sort of abuse (memories suggest there was a lot of that, but memories are unreliable), or if it was the experience of being cut off from my support network by Kayti (my experience with Kayti HURT a lot), or it’s just that it wasn’t rated for the number of cycles per second I’ve asked of it repeatedly. (I’ve pushed the limits. A lot.)

In the real, in the now, it works very well most of the time. See my linkedin recommendations. I’m really good at what I do, and I do a lot of things. In mania, I have a lot less control, but since you’ve asked that I not contact you, that’s the only time that I even think about it. Except as a backgrounded task, I’m thinking about it all the time, and it’s hurting all the time. We could really both save ourselves a lot of trouble by just having a conversation while I’m not manic. PLEASE consider this. I know there’s sort of a “Sheer is a horrible monster / Sheer is a rapist / We Hate Sheer” club out there. But I haven’t in fact raped anybody, unless you know something I don’t, and I never would have kicked my sister in the stomach – the threat was just the only way to stop her from *constantly* physically attacking me. Or so my memory (admittedly a fragmented view) tells the tale. And I do in fact try my hardest to be the very best person I can be, every day. As far as your “Don’t talk to me”, it is *really* hard keeping track of reality during periods of mania when you have DID. I invite you to try and do better than me, except that I don’t, because no one should have to go through the experience of *needing* DID, and I think I must.

But I’m begging you. Consider that you might not have the whole story, especially about things you’ve been told by my sister. Consider that if you heard my side of it you might feel differently. And consider that I have no reasonable way of assembling my memories of the night I first went dead inside at all without you.

Please, if I ever meant anything at all to you, please help.

Also.. Our friendship was for a time the best thing in my life. Maybe I remember it as better than it was. But I kind of doubt it. I’d really like it back. Enough to jump through basically any hoop.

There’s a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to
In our adolescent war
And I start to feel the fever
From the warm air through the screen
You come regular like seasons
Shadowing my dreams
And the Mississippi’s mighty
But it starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across
With five steps down
And I guess that’s how you started
Like a pinprick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me
And I start to drown
And there’s not enough room
In this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost
And time passed makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits
I need you the most
I’m in love with your ghost
I’m in love with your ghost
Dark and dangerous like a secret (don’t tell a soul)
That gets whispered in a hush
When I wake the things I dreamed about you (don’t tell a soul)
Last night make me blush
And you kiss me like a lover
Then you sting me like a viper
I go follow to the river
Play your memory like a piper
And I feel it like a sickness
How this love is killing me
I’d walk into the fingers
Of your fire willingly
And dance the edge of sanity
I’ve never been this close
In love with your ghost, ooh
Ooh
Unknowing captor
You never know how much you
Pierce my spirit
But I can’t touch you
Can you hear it
A cry to be free
Oh I’m forever under lock and key
As you pass through me
Now I see your face before me
I would launch a thousand ships
To bring your heart back to my island
As the sand beneath me slips
As I burn up in your presence
And I know now how it feels
To be weakened like Achilles
With you always at my heels
This bitter pill I swallow
Is the silence that I keep
It poisons me I can’t swim free
The river is too deep
Though I’m baptized by your touch
I am no worse than most
In love with your ghost (in love with your ghost)
You are shadowing my dreams
(In love with your ghost)
(In love with your ghost)

Jonathan Pullen
10323 Wallingford Ave N.
Seattle, WA 98133

949-357-5701
skype: sheer_panic
email: jonathanpullen@gmail.com

As my friend Mei would say, stalk me!

That $person_who_wants_to_hurt_me[0] is reading my blog and cackling with glee that she succeeded so thoroughly, or that she doesn’t even know, nor care, the amount of pain and fear and havoc she created. I wonder if all the sea turtles she rescued make up for this. I wonder if she *thinks* they do.

So, I’ve probably talked about this one before, but maybe writing more about it will help me refine my ideas on it still more.

At this point, I do not think the 3D reality I’m wandering around in is a accurate representation of the data coming in at the edge (wherever NNN space owned by me meets NNN space owned by others). In particular, I think that because of my paranoia, what I’m seeing is a mix of real data being thrown across the wall (“reflected light” of the real people out there) and my fears. I have no easy way to confirm how much is internal/imaginal and how much is external/real. I don’t think any of us actually know that, I think it may well be a unknowable. But I think my paranoia has met confirmation bias. I no longer know if the cops are in my head or in the world, for example.

I know I’m damaged. I hope the people at the edge are receiving this message, and understand that I need help to clear away the neurological filters that are making it impossible for me to see people as they truly are and instead see what I’m most afraid of. At this point I’m convinced confirmation bias is probably more my enemy than my friend. I just don’t know what to do with it.

I thought I’d talk about this, because it does happen. I haven’t yet experienced someone loving me who I don’t love at all, but I’ve had a couple of people who loved me – or wanted me – more than I wanted them.

I give them as much of my time as I can spare, and I tell them honestly that I don’t feel as strongly as they do. I avoid them only if they actively hurt me repeatedly – something that as far as I know has only come up once, and I think that the fault may have been mine. I think this is the winning answer.

Here’s why. If someone loves you, they are happier when they are around you. In addition, because of the same phenomenons that cause vibe to work (at concerts and raves), you are slightly happier. Therefore, it’s a net happiness win for the universe – and I choose to play on the side of happiness wins for the universe, because I feel like at least this corner of it has far too much fear and pain, not nearly enough joy and love.

For $person[0]

Shame
Doesn’t Become you
There are no mistakes
In the final view

No blame
How could it be so wrong
That your heart was braver
Than your will was strong

For every path you follow
There’s another left behind
Every door you don’t kick open
There’s a million more to try
For everything you taught me
Here’s the one I learned the best
There is nothing but the moment
Don’t you waste it on regret

I’ll Go
Who will it have to be?
Will you just get by?
Forget what you need?
Just know
I don’t need to fit in (But i’d like to)
Is there room for you
In your life with him

For every path you follow
There’s another left behind
Every door you don’t kick open
There’s a million more to try
For everything you taught me
Here’s the one I learned the best
There is nothing but the moment
don’t you waste it on regret

It’s out of my hands – out of my hands
But I miss my friend – I miss my friend
So this is the price of honesty
I’m not sorry (But it hurts. A lot.)

For every path you follow
There’s another left behind
Every door you don’t kick open
There’s a million more to ty
For everything you taught me
Here’s the one I learned the best
There is nothing but the moment
Don’t you waste it on regret

Oh, the moment.. happens now
The moment.. everything..
How could it be so wrong?