University of Baltimore MFA student Tyler Mendelsohn has always understood her various disorders and neuroses — less so, her self.
When I was a kid, I kept my parents alive by finding all the spots on my body I could feel a substantial pulse, and counting and counting. I still feel that the numbers 1 and 6 are neutral; 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 and 10 are lucky. Three and 8 are bad. Despite the overwhelming probability of anything I count ending on a lucky number, I often feel bombarded by 3s and 8s.
Both of my parents are psychoanalysts. So are an unbelievably large number of my other relatives, but that’s a separate story. When I was a kid, I realized that my parents were the most perceptive people in the entire world, especially my mom. There was not a thing that slipped past my mom’s radar. I always thought that all moms were like this, but I still believe that mine has a perception super-sense unlike anyone else’s in the world. Sometimes, I feel like she knows what kind of trouble I’m getting into all the way from New York to Baltimore. Over the span of my childhood, I was thought to have a cocktail of mental impediments to my highly praised and mythical potential: ADD, ADHD, Asperger’s, bipolar disorder, OCD, anorexia, body dysmorphia, narcissistic personality disorder, dissociative personality disorder, a whole host of learning disabilities, sprinkled with a healthy dose of paranoid delusions and separation anxiety.