Forgetting to be self-aware

I say I'm self-aware, but really I am not, or not unusually self-aware. I'm a lot more self-aware than I used to be, but I think I am probably about average for self-awareness, which may be slightly above average for the personality disordered?

Self-awareness is a tricky thing, though. You have moments of it, you don't live in it. It's like everything else, I guess. For instance, I am not particularly aware during the day that I am wearing clothing unless I see myself in the mirror perhaps, or start experiencing discomfort because of a lack or excess of clothes. We get used to things and let them fade out of our awareness. Little things like a haircut or shaving or not shaving remind us of what the wind feels like to blow through hair or across bare skin.

There are times when I am not aware of my sociopathy, manic and oblivious periods punctuated by abrupt periods of re-acquaintance, maybe a fit of rage, a shiver-inducing temptation, or some interpersonal problem. But for the most part, I'm aware of it to the extent that I am aware of my underwear or body odor -- I notice it only when there's a problem.

That's what is so weird about writing this blog and trying to write regularly. I'm currently in a happy place, professional success, no personal drama, plenty of alone time, a daily routine of variety and stimulation that I find deeply engaging and pleasurable. At times like these, I don't really feel that much like a sociopath. In fact, before the blog I often would just forget about it completely in times like these, only to be jerked out of my blissful oblivion by some crisis or another sometimes a year or more later. I wonder if it was better to be like I was before, forgetting periodically. If I can forget, why don't I?