Functional Fracture

Today, at my appointment, I revisited the "illness scenario"... every so often I try to convince my therapist and myself, that I am not really sick. As usual, I lost this argument. I asked him to remove the gloves and just tell me how it is... straight to the gut. "What is the deal with me, Doc?". In his professional opinion, I am a "well-managed schizophrenic"... based on the fact that I have a support team helping me refrain from drooling on myself, covered in my own feces and living under a bridge. As for my "personality disorders", as I have come to label them... that is the incorrect terminology. He told me, as a child, due to the extreme abuse in my life I have "fractured" my core self. This is not to be misunderstood as the same thing as someone that "splinters". Someone that "splinters", develops multiple personalities... these people are suffering from DID or most commonly called, MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder). My condition has left me with incomplete personalities, unlike someone with DID... I don't lose time in the sense that I disappear for days having no memory of where and what I have done. Those people, have their lives run by the other complete personalities... my case is different. I remember the things being done, I just may not have the ability or power to stop them from happening... eyes peeled open to watch as the marionette contorts the moppet. When someone else comes to "steer the ship", as I call it, it is a conscious event... I decide to leave, rather than being pushed off of center stage. Even though I have these symptoms, I do not have a "personality disorder"... there are no technical terms for this event. Added with the problem of dealing with and understanding human emotions, the inability to make and retain lasting and positive relationships and function well around the masses of sheep... these are all under the umbrella of schizophrenia. With such a huge fucking umbrella, I wonder how I am getting so wet... the melting plastic is forming a helmet along the crease of my scalp. The collective, my choir and tormentors, are internal voices, not external... this point was moot and added nothing to my defense. The verdict... I am sick, there is no escaping this fact. Am I to become a bridge dweller living in a cardboard box? Not if I continue seeing my doctors and continue receiving the support from the few people in my life.... this is assuming I don't drive them away screaming or with kitchen knives decorating their foreheads. Curiously, he asked me if I wanted to have a personality disorder. I told him, that it would make more sense to me... I am lacking the software and firmware updates to process this information. For the moment, I am quizzical and weary... at ease, my little friends, we shall revisit this topic again in the near future.