I wake up sprawled on the floor, lying on my travel pillow which I purchased for twenty-five dollars by advice of chiropractor. "I don't think you're really in the position not to take my advice, Daniela" this is what Dr.Calluci tells me, and because I've been waiting for an hour and a half among the elderly I say, "Dr.Calluci, just wondering, are you like-- an actual medical doctor?"
I buy the pillow anyway.
On the floor of the airport I sit up and I am immediately handed a pamphlet about Jesus Christ. This seems appropriate enough: the sun is shining brightly in my face, the wind is not blowing in my hair.
My arm is really banged up and because this is not New York City everyone asks over and over again "what happened to your arm?"
A boy who could be my age, but is probably younger asks me "Are you afraid of flying?"
Of course. I tell him. Not scared at all. I want to say that I love airports that I am in my element, that I could be anyone but instead I do not say what happened to my arm I say "I cannot handle the take offs and landings"
I wake up sprawled on the floor and suddenly I am taking a shit ton of Percocet with missionaries who are on their way to Peru.I let them tell me about God and I mainly not my head, I stop to say "I really only believe in the Blessed Virgin" and they note that I am not speaking of myself and keep going.
"Why are you going to Peru? Can't you just leave those people alone?" I don't know if they give me a real answer but their backpacks are filled as if they were going to go film Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas not Jesus Camp: The Sequel
Once I let my friend Jesse borrow the book White Noise and she read it on a flight with her mother on their way to Costa Rica, a missionary vomitted on her and all over the book something like fifteen minutes after take off.
We are not sure if this actually means anything, but we write it down anyway. Just in case. Just in case the police come storming in and ask for an account so I can "well here it happened like this officers, I have it on this sheet of paper"
but even the police man, the private would ask me from the door frame
"what happened to your arm?"
There are times in life where you start settling and truly, I have no idea why. I either want to say "hurry up and get it over with" or "chill the fuck out man and let your guard down" I believe in purgatory, naturally, of course, but I've never been a fan of limbo and the authorities, the missionaries, the men with missing jaws-- none of them can tell me that there is any difference.
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The other day we drove in a car Nick, Ashley, Autumn, Aaron and myself and tried to find a place called "Amelia Island" we ended up at Fort DeSoto and it was completely deserted, all you could see was sand and water and some grass and an occasional bicycle going by. At first we just stood there. Then Nick waded in. That ashley said it wasnt so cold. Then I collapsed like the the earth was begging me to and then I wanted to take off all of my clothes. I have never swam naked in the ocean, i have gone bras and panties in the night, but I have never been truly naked during the day in the water. So I stripped off. Autumn, who goes to an all girls school in Roanoke, which I believe is called Roanoke, held my bra in my hand for me while I touched my own breasts in the water. I kept saying to everyone "we have to do this now because this is beautiful" there was a sense of urgency but still a sense of panic. There is always a sense of panic like "what if I can never do this again?" It's not a question of whether I'll ever come back to the ocean, but whether the ocean will ever come back.
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In the car Autumn, who has her masters or is working on her Masters or something about Psychology diagnosis everyone. Ashley takes a drag off of her Newports even though she is enraged that I handed her the wrong pack "Newport Lights" we didn't even know they existed.
"THESE PROBABLY DONT EVEN HAVE FIBERGLASS IN THEM"
I apologize, smoke one myself, cant inhale but figure that she's wrong and they probably do.
Then Ashley says "well Daniela, we diagnosed you already last night."
Oh do tell
"We diagnosed you with HPD"
like HPV?
"No HPD"
What's HPD? Why did you diagnose me? What the fuck?
Autumn has either printed this out or is maybe reading it from her phone but then she explains to me that if she was my doctor she would diagnose me with "Histrionic Personality Disorder"
I say from the backseat, half glaring at Nick because he was born, "I don't think I have any kind of disorder.
Autumn begins reading:
Histrionic personality disorder (HPD) is defined by the American Psychiatric Association as a personality disorder characterized by a pattern of excessive emotionality and attention-seeking, including an excessive need for approval and inappropriate seductiveness, usually beginning in early adulthood.
The essential feature of histrionic personality disorder is an excessive pattern of emotionality and attention-seeking behavior. These individuals are lively, dramatic, enthusiastic, and flirtatious. They may be inappropriately sexually provocative, express strong emotions with an impressionistic style, and be easily influenced by others.
People with this disorder are usually able to function at a high level and can be successful socially and professionally. People with histrionic personality disorder usually have good social skills, but they tend to use these skills to manipulate other people and become the center of attention. [1] Furthermore, histrionic personality disorder may affect a person's social or romantic relationships or their ability to cope with losses or failures. People with this disorder may seek treatment for depression when romantic relationships end, although this is by no means a feature exclusive to this disorder. They often fail to see their own personal situation realistically, instead tending to dramatize and exaggerate their difficulties. They may go through frequent job changes, as they become easily bored and have trouble dealing with frustration. Because they tend to crave novelty and excitement, they may place themselves in risky situations.
She finishes reading and everyone in the car just nods their heads. "I have never even heard of this! Everything cannot just be a disorder. Having a personality is a disorder"
I put on lipstick. I stare out at the ocean. I wake up days later and the missionaries from Peru diagnose me with hell and slip a white pill in my mouth.
I pack when I get home. I unpack even though it's been dark for hours.
Before bed, or during bed, I fall asleep with my glasses on. All this time I thought I only suffered from terminal uniqueness. I am back in New York. No one asks what happened to my arm, and if I told the truth would they even believe me?
"someone cut me with a butter knife"
I'm not sure. The pamphlet about Christ is at the bedside table. I cannot keep my eyes open. I didn't get a sunburn.
SYMPTOMS:
The symptoms include:
* Constant seeking of reassurance or approval.
* Excessive dramatics with exaggerated displays of emotions.
* Excessive sensitivity to criticism or disapproval.
* Inappropriately seductive appearance or behavior.
* Excessive concern with physical appearance.
* A need to be the center of attention (self-centeredness).
* Low tolerance for frustration or delayed gratification.
* Rapidly shifting emotional states that may appear shallow to others.
* Opinions are easily influenced by other people, but difficult to back up with details.
* Tendency to believe that relationships are more intimate than they actually are.
* Making rash decisions.
and the clothes go
Life Advice:
Arnold
Amy
Mnemonic
A mnemonic that can be used to remember the criteria for histrionic personality disorder is PRAISE ME:[8][9]
* P - provocative (or seductive) behavior
* R - relationships, considered more intimate than they are
* A - attention, must be at center of
* I - influenced easily
* S - speech (style) - wants to impress, lacks detail
* E - emotional lability, shallowness
* M - make-up - physical appearance used to draw attention to self
* E - exaggerated emotions - theatrical
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