Back to my old tricks.

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm a spin doctor; I always have been. My powers of manipulation have made almost every situation work in my favor, and I control the thoughts of people who have influence. I do this involuntarily; after attempting to quelch my instinct to do so, I now know that trying is pointless. It's ingrained in me.

Thing is, I honestly believe that everyone tries to be a spin doctor, and in a way, everyone is a spin doctor. The inflection of your voice as you tell a story, your word choice, the subtle physical cues you use - those are all to persuade the audience of something, because, as any political campaign can tell you, "It's not the truth that counts. It's what passes for the truth."

Rewind to this past Thursday. My hormones were out of whack. I was crying every fifteen minutes. Every little thing upset me. I was seriously suicidal for all of half an hour. And just a day before, I was on top of the world, conquering every obstacle thrown at me and loving it. This, dear reader, is why a therapist once suggested that I'm bi-polar.

Every sound out of my mouth was a scream or a holler or a yelp or a cry. Every tear made me shiver and quake. The depression that hit was deep and all-consuming. I couldn't face the thought of leaving my room and dealing with things. No work, no writing, no people. Everything just added to the melee of confusion that attacked me. So I refused to do anything. I stayed home and hardly communicated with the outside world. I slept and cried and ate a bit and repeated the process. I thought about slitting my wrists, then laughed at the idea.

It was in this state that I decided on leaving the country. It came as a revelation, and just as soon as the thought was formed into words and I spoke those words aloud, I felt an overarching sense of relief. Somehow, there existed a plan of action that didn't make me feel more burdened; it was whole and perfect and encompassed everything that I needed to feel all right. In one fell swoop, it canceled out all of the issues that had surfaced within my deep state of depression, and it made me feel better about my situation and my life.

I can't tell for sure, but I think I called people that night. Who I talked to and what was said, I can't really say. Some of the people I remember speaking to have been dead a long time. Some of the people I thought I spoke to tell me they didn't speak to me that night. All I know for sure is that, somehow, I managed to tire myself out and fall asleep. The next day, I woke up and I was fine.

No. Not fine. I haven't been fine in a while. I've been walking the line between crazy and normal, and I know it (and this makes me think that I must be okay, because crazy people don't know when they're crazy). I was mired in residual feelings of laziness. It was hard to get out of bed. I couldn't bring myself to go to work on time. But unlike in the past, I knew all of this and I didn't care; I was no longer afraid of the consequences and feeling guilty about the situation. I thought, "So what if I don't [insert responsibility here]? My first responsibility is to myself, and fuck what anyone has to say to that."

Like so many platitudes and cliches, there is a strand of truth in this line of thinking which makes it difficult to argue. Most people who try to argue with me are immediately shut down because I don't like the way they approach the issue. Some people [read: close friends], I can't help but listen to. However, in the end, more often than not, I stick to my guns. Another platitude about self-reliance rings in my head: "Who can you trust if not yourself?"

I've become enamored with thoughts about fate and destiny. I am zealous about controlling my own fate and loathe the idea that it might be subjected to someone else's plans or whims. I am paranoid that other people might attempt to exercise their influence over my life, and I am angered by the notion that I might be stupid and weak enough to allow them this ability. In the end, only I can be held accountable for what happens to me, and I don't want to be disappointed with myself.

But what do I do now?

I am standing at a precipice, facing the choice of staying in New York City and taking the more conventional route of growing up. If this plan of action is followed, I will lick my wounds, horde my money, get my own place, and find a sense of dignity in joining the masses. I will feel as though I have accomplished a phase that society has deemed necessary, and I will soak in the praise of the ordinary people who will recognize in me the same obstacles they've faced. But more than that: I will, for the first time, compare myself to the masses. I will feel safe and comforted from having chosen to be more conventional, from using the accepted norm as a measure for what I should do or who I should become. I will know that, despite the outcome of my life, there will be a safety net to catch me: people will understand my choices and they will relate to me. This route is personified my Mei.

But, on the other hand, is the less conventional route: the complicated and seemingly perverse route which includes leaving the country and starting anew. It is the choice that seems more natural to me, the choice that most people do not have, the choice that is extraordinary. The parts of me that are inherently from my parents love this choice. It exemplifies everything that is unconventional and quirky and misunderstood and strange and out-of-the-ordinary. In short, it exemplifies everything that I am. It is a vastness of contradiction, i.e., In order to get to the end result of "acceptable norm" I will go through a very "unacceptable ab-norm". It fortifies me with something that most people do not have, and maybe, that's what all of this is really about. Maybe I've come to accept that I am most certainly not like most people, and that's okay: I don't want to be like most people.

*****

This choice is difficult for me to make because I'm being told by Mei that my original way of thinking - aka, the way that makes me want to leave the country - is not healthy.

But maybe, despite all of Mei's understanding and tolerance, my way of thinking is simply out of the bounds of her understanding. Maybe it's simply too unconventional for her - and thus relegated to the realm of unhealthy. What if the risks that I'm taking are simply not the risks that Mei would take? Who's to say what normal is, anyway? And how can anyone know what is healthy?

*****

I've lied to Mei. I told her that a family emergency caused me not to go to work. I told her that Rob's landed a job. I've said that I've started going to therapy. I know that whatever I choose to do in the long-run, it won't be what she wants for me.

If I was going to therapy, the therapist would probably ask why I feel the need to lie to Mei. I'd say that lying facilitates having a relationship with Mei; being honest with her only leads to arguments and confrontation, and I've come to the conclusion that what I want from her isn't mentorship: it's money. In a strictly work environment, I have to responsibility to her to be honest and open about my life, so I'm retracting from what I'd previously done.

*****

I've long ago come to the conclusion that there is nothing in the world that is right - or - wrong, black - or - white. There are shades of gray, and those are the shades that we live in. None of us have definitive answers. Those who claim to have answers are usually the ones grasping hardest at straws, hoping to find a way of consoling themselves.

But strength lies in standing on one's own, familiarizing one's self with the terrain of their personality, and catering to that personality despite what other people might say or do. Strength resides in the faith one has in him/herself. Strength is tolerating negativity and overcoming obstacles - especially when you're something that most people don't understand.

And yet, on the flip side of things, there are, I'm sure, ways to the contrary of being strong. And within the seemingly concrete edifice of my definition of "strength" there are indeed gray areas, dents and nooks and crannies, in which contradictory ideas reside. I will venture on a limb and say that I know all of these sides of strength, and after all is said and done, there will be no one who can doubt my strength of will and character.