January Third, 2001, in the Stupid Calendar

I love being multiple because there are almost always people around to talk to and share experiences with and learn from. However, one downside to REALIZING I'm (we're) multiple has been the gradual discovery that, well, this quality you thought you had actually came from Rose, and that other skill belonged to Todd... and in fact a lot of the things I thought were part of me were not. And up till now, I've always prided myself and taken solace from the fact that I had a VERY strong identity. I knew exactly who I was and I didn't have any problem knowing what I wanted. In life, that is. Possibly a few tiny problems making smaller decisions like what books to buy or what ice cream flavor to eat :)

And I've been thinking, you know, that I would never want to integrate because we don't have any major problems resulting from being multiple; we like having people around; et cetera... but that the one thing that would ever make me want to integrate would be if everything, absolutely everything that I had loved about myself turned out to belong to others in our system, and that actually everything about me was... small and annoying and not what I'd thought I was. Like, sure I've identified as stubborn and a nerd and so on, but those aren't my MAJOR strengths and loves in myself. And what if they are all I have left?

And I think it would be *terribly* selfish if I was all "I don't like who I am, and I want all YOUR virtues, so cmon, everybody back in the car! smush smush smush! you're all going to be integrated now!" But ... god, I'm not full of unconditional love for everyone... I'm not adorably flamey... Rose is a bigger Pagan than I am, although I'm not sure that's such a huge difference between us... and I worry that I'm not the creative one when it comes to writing. That maybe I'm good at clear analytical non-fiction, but I don't know how I do at fiction. And fucking fucking hell, if it turns out that I'm not one of the creative writing sluts, if I ever tried to write fiction and found out that it wasn't me who could write it, I don't know what the hell I would do. Kill myself off and let everyone else run the body probably. Okay, I don't think it's likely. I'm sure I can still write. I'm sure that I could learn how, if I wasn't already able to. But when I'm worrying about this sort of thing, those thoughts don't occur to me. I guess it stands in for all my other fears about identity and security at once. Woo.

I've actually been taking shelter in my younger ideas of identity lately. This is partly because I've been visiting home (Davis, not my apartment obviously) and they're more readily available there. My identity is ready for me there, and it's beautiful like a never-ending gobstopper - layers and layers of colors and loves and beliefs burnt one on top of another, all cut away in wavy layers so I can see them all at once. So I've been leaning on that when I'm afraid of who I am. But of course sometimes I worry that it will turn out I was a totally different person then. I mean, there are different people who were around a lot in highschool, like whoever it is who freaks out really bad at any stress. I just hope that the things I really cling to there are really mine.