Psychopaths. Sociopaths. My family is crazy. I'm sure there are many more "-paths" that apply, but those are the only terms that I know. My paternal grandmother was bipolar. Actually, I hope she was because then her actions would make sense. However, she was never officially diagnosed.
I asked my therapist if I'm bipolar (yes, I have a therapist and I love it -- imagine, I get to talk about ME for 50 minutes!). She said "No." Her confirmation was good to hear. I mean, I know I'm not crazy crazy, but when you come from a background of people with major emotional and psychological issues, it makes you wonder. I act out sometimes. But, it turns out that I am nothing but an extremely complex individual torn between the dichotomy of polar personality characteristics. As a result of my diverse dualities, I get anxious and as I've programmed myself to go through life feeling as little amount of emotions as possible, I don't know how to handle it so I surrender to my impulses. I enjoy being impulsive. It's fun. I get to experience things that other people may never experience because of their conservative natures. However, being impulsive is not the same as being spontaneous. Impulsiveness can get you in trouble.
Just in case anyone is questioning it, no, I don't have multiple personality disorder either. I asked. I ask a lot of questions, keeps my therapist on her toes. She thinks I'm defensive. And guarded. I think I amuse her. Oh, I'm also too intelligent, probably for my own good. She's never said the "for my own good" bit, I added that on my own. I make a lot of assumptions. The thing is, I'm usually right. Kinda sucks. Often times, I wish I knew nothing then I could drown in the bliss that is ignorance!
But really, my paternal side of the family is filled with wack-jobs. Those things can be hereditary. I think it skipped my sisters and me. But, what insane person would admit to being insane? The Mad Hatter sure doesn't. And he isn't. He's in Wonderland. He's quirky, complex, entertaining -- too deep for most commoners to appreciate. The Mad Hatter, he's my soul mate. Well, the Johnny Depp version at least. His cuckyness is saturated in his muchiness; I have muchiness too. Yeah, I really do appreciate the emotional layers that compose that character.
Back to the crazies though. They don't possess that nuttiness that's charming. The Mad Hatter is charming. My own sanity imbalance is endearing (so I'm told, but I agree. I'm neither boring nor lacking personality). Their insanity is disturbing. It's mean. Not all, just certain individuals, but those are the ones of my focus.
There's Mimi, who's dead but left her mark. Don't know if she became the person she was because she was bitter, malicious, or just really not all there. Crazy. Mean. Spiteful. Her redemption was Clayton. Poor, innocent Clayton. Clayton, who at my age can't walk, talk, or function as a productive individual in society. Clayton, who will never experience love, heart-break, joy. Clayton, who depends on the kindness of others to survive. She loved him. His love, devotion, and blind faith in her saved her.
Then there's Tita. Funny, Mimi and Tita are namesakes. Memo to self, never name one of my offspring Esther. Maybe Tita is normal now. She's a mother, a wife, and per Facebook, appears happy. But can someone like her really change? This is the girl who would try to drown her sister and my little Gugu for kicks. This is the chick that stalked her crazy ex-boyfriend, ignoring the restraining order he had against her. This is the girl who claimed to hate her sister, who called her ugly, a nigger, who tried to dehumanize her. If that's not crazy, I don't know what is.
Then there are the aunts. Two of them. Sisters. Both equally crazy. One is suicidal. Lady Lazarus. "The peanut-crunching crowd shoves in to see them unwrap me hand and foot. The big strip tease." A show with no final act. The other aunt, well she is just iiiiinsane. Amen. That's all I gotta say about that one.
The men are more sane. I don't know enough about them because I'm smart enough to keep my distance.
The cousins are normal; most, at least.
My sisters are too.
So am I.
I'm biased though. Kinda. But really. I'm actually pretty fair and quite objective. I see my flaws. I can own them. I'm arrogant, overly proud, suffer the tragic hero complex. Hubris. To quote Pacino in The Devil's Advocate, "Vanity - definitely my favorite sin." Mine's pride, but same difference. They're tightly intertwined.
To conclude, I'm not crazy. Just half my family. There must be something in the Nicaraguan water or in the Alvarado surname. Glad the mad-Alvarado chromosome isn't contagious.
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