Run, Don't Walk, To Your Nearest Mental Health Professional

I ran across this article on The Onion today, and I like it because sometimes I worry that this is what it's like to talk to me:

"Rhetorical Pleasantry Elicits 45-Minute Response"

Some would agree that that is, in fact, what it's like to talk to me. But those people can GO TO HELL AND DIE.

*****

Speaking of extremely inappropriate responses, the Asshole Voice in My Head had a bit of a renaissance this past weekend. Maybe he was trying to help me celebrate my birthday, I don't know. All I know is that on Friday night, Lee and I were supposed to hang out with my friends Cristina and Todd, because Todd was also having a birthday last weekend, but that was all preempted by The Asshole's treacherous muttering. On Thursday, Cristina was originally a little vague on the plan for the evening, mentioning only that we "might go out somewhere" and that she would call me Friday. She really seemed excited for us all to hang out. So my plan was to have dinner and spend time with Lee until I heard from Cristina, and then later tag along for Todd's birthday festivities.

On Friday night, however, it got later and later and I still hadn't yet heard from Cristina. I didn't want to call her and ask what the deal was though, because she had seemed so vague, and for all I knew they had changed their minds and decided to do something that was just the two of them. Finally, around 10 pm, when Lee and I were busy amending our plans to just watching a movie and getting drunk in my apartment, I finally got a text from Cristina saying, "We're going to head to Boozetown in about an hour." I wasn't sure how to take this. Could she not have filled me in on the plan earlier? What had she been doing all this time? Luckily, before I could get too confused, the Asshole in My Head graciously stepped up and offered his own explanation. Obviously, he said, they've been having a fantastic time doing super-fun things with other people that are NOT YOU and you weren't invited along for that because Cristina and Todd don't actually like you and would prefer if you were not a part of their lives at all. Actually, he went on, all of your other "friends" probably feel the same way about you, too. Happy birthday!

(My personal brand of Crazy. It's like paranoid schizophrenia, but without all the excitement of auditory hallucinations and delusions of grandeur.)

I expressed this reasonable interpretation of the events to Lee. He, in turn, expressed some skepticism, but told me that he would go along with whatever I wanted to do. We sat in silence for a little while, as I'm sure Lee wondered just how irrational I planned to get this time, and I listened attentively as the Asshole In My Head expounded on his central thesis of how and why I have no friends. Finally, he concluded with: ...So you see, really all you can do is stay home and feel sorry for yourself, since obviously they don't actually want you there anyway. You should probably also drink half a bottle of wine, to teach everyone a lesson.

"Yeah, that'll show 'em!" I agreed. "What??" Lee said. My eyes narrowed with resolve. "Take me to get some wine."

I texted Cristina back and told her that I wasn't sure if we would join them, but to let me know when they were on their way to the bar. In the meantime, I followed the advice of The Asshole and drank me some wine while we watched the first half of The Day The Earth Stood Still. (The remake with Keanu Reeves. I find him attractive and I SHALL NOT apologize for it.) (The movie, however, was mediocre.) By the time Cristina notified me that they were on their way to the bar I was feeling (thankfully) much more jovial and forgiving, and I think The Asshole was taking a wine-induced nap, or something. "Well, we ought to at least make an appearance," I told Lee. "Just to be nice."

And so we joined them and I celebrated with more booze and even though it wasn't ideal I considered the evening a success because at least I got to get drunk and flirt with my boyfriend. And I didn't throw up. The end.

My main point ('Oh, here it is!' you may be saying to yourself) is that I'm a little concerned that The Asshole in My Head was able to get me so riled up, so long after I declared him to be 84% conquered. I think the reason he got so powerful the first time around is because I was dealing with a major life transition at the time, so I'm kind of worried that he's going to try to stage a coup again soon, since I'll be distracted with all the moving to a new town and getting a new roommate and starting grad school and slowly draining my bank account. So I think that what we have to do is come up with a few ways to protect myself from The Asshole and his Crazy-making monologues. Here's what I've got so far...

Ways to Protect Myself From The Asshole in My Head
1. Tinfoil hat. Duh.
2. Ooh! Entire tinfoil SUIT OF ARMOR. Is someone writing this down?
3. Eating magic mushrooms until I develop a new Voice in My Head that can drown out The Asshole. Preferably one that has the commanding, yet compassionate voice of Mr. T. Or Morgan Freeman. Or Sidney Poitier. I need a distinguished black actor, basically.
4. Counting. Constant counting.
5. Repeated hand-washing. That's healthy, right?
6. Teaching The Asshole to speak in a language that I don't know. Maybe one of the African click-languages.
7. Sedatives. Sedatives that were designed for large jungle mammals.
8. Hitting myself in the face with a shovel until I escape into sweet, merciful unconsciousness.

Ok, so the list so far leaves a bit to be desired. But I don't move until the beginning of August, so I've got a little time to come up with some more alternatives. Feel free to leave your ideas in the comments.