I Did It All For The Nookie
Finally, I had the time to sew. I had brought my sewing machine with me to Basket Bear's house. Two weeks in a remote location provided the perfect opportunity to sew. Yet days went by without me touching it. First, there was unpacking. Then there were errands, including driving out to a farm to buy five gallons of raw milk (two of which came from goats).
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It was our fifth day at Basket Bear's when I finally began to sew a robe for myself. Buying myself an organic cotton bathrobe would cost me some absurd amount of money, and it wouldn't look like anything special. My own design was much more creative, a quilt of purple and cream fabrics.
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As I laid out the fabric and began to pin pieces into place I noticed my unconscious playing music. As usual, it took me at least ten minutes to take conscious notice of it.
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This time, it was a Limp Bizkit song I hadn't heard in years and years.
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"I did it all for the nookie, come on, the nookie." I frowned at the words in my head. What was this about? Yes, I do a lot in the name of desiring sex, but this was the first time in a very long time that song lyrics of this sort were playing in my mind. "They'll tell you... They'll give you their advice... It's easier said than done. I appreciate it, I do. But... Just leave me alone... Just leave me alone. Nothing is going to change. So you can go away. ... Always be the same."
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Those particular lines kept running through my head.
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I don't like to be left alone. I don't want to be alone at all. So what is that about? Which part of me is singing to which other part of me? Is this my 'internal vampire' singing to my 'rational self'?
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After getting about half way through the robe project I stopped. The song had stopped too. I still didn't know what it meant. Still, some part of me was happy that I was listening, even if I didn't get the full intent.
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The next day when I began to lay out the fabric another song came to mind, one I had been hearing in my head fairly frequently.
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"I hate everything about you. Why do I love you? You hate everything about me. Why do you love me?"
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I don't hate Paladin. I don't. Do I hate myself? I must be singing this song, like all the others, to myself. Which part of me is hating me while simultaneously loving me?
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The previous night I had mentioned to Paladin that when I was fourteen I had actually named various parts of myself. I had been intentionally trying to develop a split-personality. It wasn't for any particular reason that I was consciously aware of, other than it "seemed cool."
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Now, twelve years later, I was finally feeling the aspects of myself and how they related to one another. They were not dissociative. There was no amnesia when switching from one aspect of myself to another. Really, my aspects were no more dramatic or strange than other people's aspects. The unusual part was my growing level of awareness of the relationships between these aspects.
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I wondered if perhaps they did need names, just so that I could communicate with myself about myself. How could I describe which aspect of me was singing to another aspect very clearly without names? Once upon a time I had called my inner sex-demon "Persilla." I had come up with that when I was eleven.
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Another peice of the picture came a few days later. Persilla, a part of me I had rejected, had become a part of me I was trying to reuinte with, causing some of my most taboo fantasies.