I had a dream. No, I had a nightmare. I don’t know what it was – it wasn’t happy and it wasn’t scary. It was… the truth.
We were at a party at church. I wasn’t feeling right inside. I was likely on the downward slope into one of my blue days. None of the activities, people or food choices were making me feel any better. And you were having a good time and I couldn’t get your attention to let you know how I was feeling. I picked up a giant Costco-sized cupcake and tried to eat it. But after a few nibbles I did not want any more. For some reason that I did not understand then (and still cannot understand now) I threw the cupcake frosting-side down into the corner of the kitchen floor. I wandered around for a little bit and finally plopped myself in a field behind the main building. I heard the caterer exclaim in disgust when she found the smashed and partially eaten cupcake. After a few minutes you found me and wanted to know if I had smashed the cupcake. I felt angry that you would immediately come to the conclusion that I had done this. I stared off into the distance – never making eye contact with you – and slowly shook my head. I knew it was a lie, but I could not admit that I had done something so impulsive and destructive. I did not want you to see that side of me. I wandered around a little more and found myself in the room where they were stashing all of the raffle prizes. You once again found me and shoved the smashed and picked-at cupcake into my line of sight and asked me if I had done that. You were angry. You were so certain I had done it, but at the same time you didn’t want to believe it and you did not really want me to acknowledge it.
The feeling I came away with from this dream was not triumph in the success of deception. It was a kind of sadness. It was defeat. I felt defeated because there was no way to explain to you that I had not thrown the cupcake. That I had thrown the cupcake. I had made a decision to throw the cupcake and hide, yet I was not responsible for my actions. I did not have control over them. I felt like I was watching my self from the outside. I was yelling at my self to stop it, but I would not listen. And I came away frustrated because I knew no matter how hard I could try to explain it to you, you would never understand.
I did not throw the cupcake. My blue self threw it. I could see my self making the decision to throw it. I tried to stop my self, but my self was out of control and untamable. I watched someone that looked, sounded, and acted like me destroy something innocent. But no one ever sees that self. They only see me. And I’m the one that has to take the fall for it all. Because it always sounds like a cop-out to say, “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.”