I didn’t want to write about my fainting. It’s such a silly thing, and it’s so harmless. But those present deserve an explanation, and it’s an event, and events are good for philosophizing about.

First, thank you all so much for caring, and I’m sorry to worry anyone. Thank you truered for the part of the party I was there for!

So, doctors have a name for my fainting which I always forget, but it’s the same thing as a breath holding spell in babies. Under weird circumstances (it used to be when I got badly hurt), I’ll forget to breathe. My vision goes tunnelly, then I faint and have a short seizure (which scares people, but I’m just aware of lots of cool visuals), and I wake up feeling relaxed and a little weak.

It only happens when I know I’m safe: I was alone both times I’ve broken bones, and I knew I had to get myself back to my friends/family, and I didn’t come close to blacking out. The last time it happened, two years ago, I did it voluntarily on some good drugs. I’ve done it less than ten times in my life.

I’ve never had an ambulance called on me, but I had fun schmoozing with the EMTs afterwards and getting them to tell me about their other calls (a big evacuation, three crazies, two drunks, one of whom they hinted was someone famous).

I explained it to them as a condition because that’s what I’ve been told. But for me, it’s much simpler: this is a consequence of what I am, down to my core. Some people’s unconsciousness when it comes out to play makes them wear lampshades or hit people or cry or rant. Mine has something funny in it. My unconscious desperately wants to make itself heard, and my conscious mind knows it has what I want, and yet what it has to say cuts so close to what I cannot conceive of that I won’t let it speak or act. No matter how much I try to pry my mental fingers open, they hold tighter. I’m might hold on for the rest of my life, but I’m going to dedicate some indispensable part of my whole life to letting go.

The first thing I said when I suddenly woke up to Ted asking me if I was okay was, “Yeah, that was wonderful.” I know I shouldn’t, but I not-so-secretly love the fainting. It’s when the struggle between conscious and unconscious consumes me, and my consciousness loses, I’m in my own world for that little while while I writhe on the floor. It’s a natural consequence of the struggle I live to excuse myself from.

That’s all. I’m chilling right after, drinking some tea, half considering party hopping, still plenty high, the night is young, and I have so many things to work on.