Back & forth, back & forth, back & forth...

I fell compelled today to write about the feeling that has always frightened me most. Mind you, I do not know if this feeling has a name. For as long as I can remember, I have felt on display. Like a science project; you know like the glass jars in a lab filled with formaldehyde and some disfigured body part or unidentifiable species. In my warped imagination, I am on display so that others can look and stare and scratch their heads and say "I've never seen anything like this" or "wow, do you think it's real?"

Okay, I know that is not real. It is my one true paranoia obsession. My phobia, if you will.

When I was a little girl there where times I had convinced myself that I was nothing more than a character on a TV show. What the show was about I have no idea, but I was in it and people who watched felt sorry for me. Empathy vs. sympathy? Oh that poor girl, she is so pathetic. Look at her, she's fat - ugly - stupid - not good enough! How does a little girl have those feelings about herself? Not to mention that I knew better than to let anyone know this about me. Matter of fact, I have never told anyone about this (not to this extent).

That brings up another thought...secrets! Secrets come in many forms. There are secrets we have about other people, secret desires, secrets regrets, and I am sure there are others. How would this one be classified? Embarrassing secret. Shame. That is the feeling most present when I think of my childhood and these weird things that I hid from everyone. I would never have told my friends about the role I played on the TV show (I wish it had a title), nor would I have told them that I hated myself so much that not one day passed without me wishing I were someone else, somewhere else.

I recall being aware of the fact that this (this life) was not NORMAL. How did I know that? Why did I believe that? I don't even know what normal is now, how could I know that I was not normal?

Shit, I just got myself dizzy.

All I know is what I grew up with, isn't that right for all of us? Did I measure normalcy against my friends and their families? Or against television families? I was a huge Donahue fan and started watching Oprah from the first episode. Oooh, I could be addicted to talkshows. I still watch them and I have written to Dr. Phil and Oprah too many times to count.

Perhaps the answer lies there...they never did respond to any of my letters. Does that mean I am normal and cannot be a topic on their shows? Or am I so far gone that not even they can help?

I am in a constant state of confusion...back & forth, back & forth, back & forth.

I started this post less than 15 minutes ago and already I have no idea what made me start. What was the first line? I know I can go back and look, but I should not have to.