I’m back to listening to music from the war, looking at info about the war, even talking about it.
I don’t know what I’m going to achieve by confronting these feelings again. I was afraid that giving it any of my time would make it real again, make it something I couldn’t handwave as eccentricity. Even now, those memories are still there. There’s probably more where they came from.
But it bothers me the way all this lumps together with the general chaos in my life. I want it to be mental illness. What’s the alternative except that I’m either damn good at scaring myself or I’m a legit anomaly.
I don’t want to be a legit anomaly. This whole thing has the stink of some of the darkest recesses of Tumblr. I never bargained to be a special snowflake, or an attention whore. I just want a quiet, normal life like everyone else. But I have to prepare myself for the very real possibility that I’m just a freak and there’s nothing anyone can really do about that.
I do know this: in the last 12 years I have undergone four religious conversions, several noteworthy supernatural experiences, and a gender transition. That doesn’t sound normal. That sounds like someone with TLE or some kind of severe personality disorder. There’s definitely some dissociation but that dissociation could be caused by trauma. On the other hand I’m never sure what exactly the trauma that did it was or if I have any business being traumatized by anything I’ve had happen to me.
I’m going to get to the bottom of this. But for now I’m having a smoke while “Mademoiselle From Armentieres” plays through my hazy thoughts.