My "Not Me"

Hello, my non-self. Let's get something straight here: my friends don't hate me. You hate me. Go away. I don't like you. I am not the person you want me to be, and I will never be the person you want me to be.

A friend of mine wrote a very interesting blog post a few weeks ago about her "not me." She defined it as a part of herself that occasionally takes control , convincing her that she is unloved and unlovable. I thought the phrase was profoundly true and helped me to explain some of my own experiences.

You see, I have a not me, too. She cyclically affects the way I treat other people, making me grumpy, irritable, and even less tactful than normal. She also makes me cry at the drop of a hat. Worst of all, though, she tricks me into an exaggerated perception of how unfit I am for human companionship. Suddenly, the friendships I felt to be strongest just the day before are threatened: any moment, my closest friends may figure out who I really am and leave me on my own.

In five and a half years of dating, Adam has never gone anywhere.

In fact, it's largely to his credit that I've learned that the "not me" never tells the truth.

Adam used to fight with the "not me" all the time. It isn't his fault. He simply didn't know she existed. I finally admitted her to him. I expected him to bitterly put up with her a few days a month at best or break up with me rather than go through the trouble at worst. He did neither. Instead, he's shown love and support for me at almost every opportunity. He watches for her, for the moments I feel unloved or unworthy, and treats me with a special respect and kindness. He even gently helps me keep my grumpy behavior in check, knowing how painful the memory of it will be to me later.

The best part is, Adam has never once denied that the "not me" exists. He never scoffs at me, or jokes about my "woman troubles." He knows that my feelings and fears are, no matter how artificial, absolutely real to me in the moment. He never ignores the "not me." And he never shows any resentment toward her. He loves her because he loves me, and she's a part of who I am.

"Not me" is a part of my life that may never go away. But because Adam loves her, I, too, have stopped dreading her return quite as much as I once did. It helps to have Adam's outside perspective that, no matter how bad things seem now, everything will be normal again in a few days. Besides, knowing that Adam loves even this worst facet of myself means that my greatest "not me" fears will never come true: with Adam, I'll never truly be alone.