Goin' Buck

Ok, I realize this is a totally, utterly and completely un-PC posting, but I feel that it must be said. I say it as a matter of humor and not to belittle or make light of those with the diagnosis. I say it because it's partly true and because part of me wishes it to be true. I say it because it must be said and because I'm probably not the only one who wishes it. So, here goes:

I wish I had multiple personalities.

Now, before you get all up in arms, hear me out. We don't have cable in my house, so we have a subscription to Netflix. Recently, we rented United States of Tara. If you haven't seen it, the show is about a wife and mother of 2 teenagers who suffers from DID. Now, in order to suffer from this, you have to have suffered a horrible trauma in your life. Something so bad that your brain splits into different personalities in order to help the original person deal with said trauma. That's an over-simplified explanation of the condition, of course, but you get the general idea.

Now, you would think a show about a woman with DID would be totally disturbing and make your heart bleed, but I've gotta tell you...the show is freaking hysterical. I mean, it's funny, it's honest, it's heartbreaking, it's a whole lot of things wrapped up in a not-at-all neat package. But the part I've really come to appreciate is the humor of show. And while I'm happy to report I've not suffered any horrendous traumas in my life, there's a certain appeal to having different people hidden within your personal recesses.

My favorite character is Buck and he's the reason I want to have multiple personalities. Or maybe it's really that I already have multiple personalities (because, really, don't we all?) and I just want to be able to really utilize them productively and, quite honestly, more often. I want to use them in the outside world, where they'll do me some good, and not just in my head. Sure, they're entertaining to me, but shouldn't I really share them with the world?

But I digress.

Buck is Tara's alter who is basically the ass kicker. And when he comes out, you can bet some asses are gonna get whooped.

I have an inner Buck. But he doesn't come out to play nearly often enough. I think that's why I get headaches and achy shoulders at the end of a long day.

Instead of just whoopin' some ass and takin' names, I grit my teeth when the deli clerk at Wal-Mart takes 20 minutes to simply locate the sliced turkey, while my infant wails in his car seat, the 2-year old starts pulling bread off the racks and the 3-year old whines about the doll I told her she couldn't get.

Instead of getting on the phone and reaming out the customers who've decided they don't need to pay my husband in a timely manner for the floors he so kindly installed in their houses or stores, I wait quasi-patiently for the mail man to arrive with a handful of junk mail and NO CHECKS.

Instead of telling the people who refuse to hold the door for a woman with 2 toddlers attached to one hand and a car seat slung over the other arm what I REALLY think about them, I sigh, mutter obscenities under my breath and sigh some more.

Now, I have a very dry sense of humor, and I realize not everyone appreciates this. I've also been known to speak my mind a time or two (hundred thousand), and again, not everyone has appreciated this. I can be too blunt. I can be too forward. I can be a lot of things. But by and large, I'm a head talker. If you could hear the arguments I've had (and won) in my head, you'd be amazed.

But if I had a Buck, all my head talking would come to light and boy would that be a day of reckoning.

And it would feel good.