Two in One Skull
On living life with a fractured mind - pulled between patient curiosity and vigilant fear.
I know myself well. I don’t necessarily like the traits that drive my life or how I function, but life’s hard enough without me trying to change. I leave this sentence here as evidence of fixed mindset.
There are two characters living in my skull. One is Creature, a rudimentary paranoid force that always demolishes before it understands. Creature is what you get when you exist without a safety net from birth. On high alert, it’s there to guard.
The other one’s a stubborn, rational investigator who, more than anything, wants to be left alone to understand things. It forages through books and data, looking to connect some dots. Like a sponge, it takes the shape of the complexity it investigates. It likes to take its time to get it right. It jumps into deep rabbit holes and ponders there until it’s ready to come back victorious with essence. When it’s absorbed by some puzzle, it might forget to eat.
These two can’t stand each other. They battle every day – one for supremacy, the other for survival. When something’s new, high stakes, with too many eyes watching, Creature jerks, collapsing the investigator into rubble. When dust settles, the investigator rebuilds resentfully. Confused by constant cataclysmic interruptions, it goes to keep the score instead of chasing the next brainwave. Never forgets a wound. Until the next tingly question absorbs it, it keeps me focused backwards and exhausts me.
It follows that, to the outside world, I’m two different people, depending on which one is winning now. You’ll see me sitting out flying for a decade. Then marching into a travel agency to book a flight I’m confident I’ll dare. Then trying to cancel. Then getting on the plane. Medicated. Then feeling both ashamed and proud. I wish I could just pick a side. Investigator. If only I could trust its fickle power.
I’ve seen these two united in confusion only when there’s no map. When Creature looks to the other one for help because there’s nothing to demolish. Then, the investigator starts its tense research, trying to build, awaiting the jerk. It walks in circles, gathers observations. It scribbles gibberish in notebooks and fritters away assumptions. It needs more time, permission to be wrong. It wobbles at the edge of something it almost understands. Then the insight arrives. A path is found. And Creature lounges.[1]
For the longest time, I wished I could be rid of Creature with its destructive moves. Except that I have seen its roaring force in Fight back moments, and understood it has a crazy courage flipside. When I was eight, the school bully terrorized my sister. He knew there was no sober father to defend us. I analyzed all possible solutions until I gave in to fear. At recess, my scrawny self went looking for him. I charged at him through the crowd of kids. Whatever I performed there earned me the nickname Karate Wild Horse. The bully never looked at us again except to make sure we were not around.
It’s hard to play a long game with Creature in the way. Aware of my collapses, I’ve built my walls to keep the threats away. And then a moat.
[1] Written by the investigator.
Edited for brevity by Creature