Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a sweet, caring, compassionate and understanding girl. If my neighbors need help carrying their groceries into the house, I’m there. If I cross a homeless person pandering for change on the corner, no problem. I even tip my garbage man on Christmas because I understand how hard his job is. People will tell you, I’m an all around saint.*

*And if you don’t know me, you probably don’t know that the preceding paragraph is a line of shit, except, of course for the saint part.

But being a saint doesn’t preclude you from problems, mental problems in particular, because of those I have many. When I started this blog, almost ten months ago, I was a wreck. And today, because of this blog, I’m more like a fender bender. Putting my thoughts down in writing has helped me enormously. What’s helped me even more, is hearing those cries from the blogosphere telling me they feel the same way.

But when I blog, something happens. Something dark and sinister. Leila V. The Saint, is replaced by Leila V. The Nefarious Villain.

No noise is allowed in the room where she blogs. There will be no TV or music, unless it is that of her choosing. She hurls insults at innocent bystanders (read Rey), and peppers them with scowls. Manically writing and reciting and rewriting over and over the sentences that make up her post. She neurotically probes and scrapes the flesh from her face with ten-inch nails as she thinks.

But, once the finishing touches are put on the latest entry. Once it has been ceremoniously reread for the fourteenth time. Poof! Leila V. The Saint reenters. The silence is lifted. The scowls and insults die away. She fades into the night, a little more sane, with a sense of satisfaction, and blood dripping from her face.