There are many things that fall under a split category.
Gymnasts can do the splits.
You can split a pizza with someone.
The seems on your pants can subsequently split from too many shared pizzas.
In the 90's there was a film called Split Infinity (though I don't really remember what it was about... time travel maybe?).
Wood gets split.
Time gets split.
And my personal favorite, Banana Splits (with extra whip cream).
None of these are what I am here to talk about... but all of them mirror the action.
Do you ever feel like you are split? Not split personality disorder... but something close to it. You can feel it in the very fiber of your being, a tear, a splitting of self. I often feel torn between ideas, people, style, decisions, worlds... it makes for a rather messy mind; full of patchwork and botched seeming to hold everything together.
I sat on the sofa the other morning completely at a loss. I have been beyond busy, every day, every hour, full... and on that particular day I didn't have a thing planned (to be fair a job got moved last minute). I felt torn by all of the things I could, should, do that day, and I felt them splitting me apart. The terrible part is that as I felt myself being dismembered mentally (seriously, sometimes my to-do list turns into little army men who can pull me limb from limb in two seconds flat), Drew asked me a question, which I responded horribly to because at the moment I had zero empathetic capacity. This of course made me feel like the worst human being to have ever been birthed onto this planet, at which point my heart sank into the pit of my stomach and refused to come out until World War Me had subsided.
I don't understand why or how this happens. I am (usually) a very stable person. I love my life, my husband, and the people who I spend my time with are (for the most part) really great. However, when things get quiet, when I am not distracted, I am left to deal with all of the things I have been pushing off to the side, my mental junkyard as it were. Facing this mountain of tasks and expecting to accomplish them all is like telling a little kid to eat two cups of brussels sprouts before leaving the dinner table... aka THE WORST.
I suppose, though I hate to admit it, the first step to repair is to start something (the conclusion I most often come to I feel). To get off the sofa and go to the grocery store. To find quarters and do the laundry. Research a new found disease (oh yeah... I have a fun story coming for you guys) and be proactive in taking care of it.
Splitting oneself is not nearly as fun as splitting a cupcake, so perhaps I will go and do the latter.