identity and Amanda Palmer
Before I knew Amanda Palmer existed, my goal was to be her. I discovered her shortly after the tragic end of the Dresden Dolls and for me, the tragic end of a relationship. As I watched her create images and music, it was really truly like finding a character I had created in my early teens had somehow warped her way into our reality. It was and continues to be beautiful, and astonishing, and heart breaking. The fact is that a part of me is jealous, for she represents all I wanted to be and was unable to become.
My goal as a teenager was to exist within a constant maelstrom of creativity and travel and life. Lord knows over the years how I tried. I was convinced that I could mold myself into whatever identity I wanted, nature and nurture be damned. But for myself, this turned out not to be the case. It wasn’t till narcolepsy and a host of mental health problems pulled me back to earth and I had to confront that being a manic dream pixie art girl wasn’t in the cards for me. Combine this with a case of dissociative identity disorder (fancy pants name for multiple personality/complex ptsd) and instead my adult life has been a process of untangling myself to find what’s really there rather than an explosion of creative output.
I don’t know how to end this little diary entry, probably because i’m still in the midst of it and have no idea how to reach resolution about this. There are definitely still alters (fancy pants name for my ‘personalities’) that are upset that I am who I am and didn’t become what they thought I needed to be. They pine not for Amanda Palmer, a woman who is real and pinchable and i’m sure is as full of blah stuff as anyone else. They/I pine for the freedom she represents, freedom of emotion and body and spirit. Perhaps those parts of me need to find what freedom and excitement look like for me.








