dreams

I've been dreaming about the community where I grew up, and I've been dreaming about it a lot. Over the years I've dreamed about the ranch a lot, but not much outside of it. The two main scenes take place either in the little town, or McDonald's place about 3 miles up the road (4 miles if you didn't take the short cut across the field). They were our second closest neighbors out in that little ranching community.

When I dream of McDonald's place, sometimes Sally (the family matriarch) is still alive, sometimes not, sometimes I just don’t know and I'm trying to find out. Often when I visit there in my dreams, there’s generally a sense that I shouldn’t be there; that I am trespassing or just don’t belong.

Last night I was there again, but all that’s left of this dream is just a vague recollection of being on the edge of their front yard, with the badlands at my heels. I am not doing anything, I am simply on the outside looking in.  In to what is the question. I'm not looking into the house. No one is present. It's just the house, me, my apprehension, and the badlands.

The badlands. My home. The bones of my bones.

I don't know why I was there last night without Sally being there...she is the only reason to return to that place. She was a kind, loving, caring soul. And I miss her. Another woman who I wish had been my mother. As a17 year old alone during the week she was one of the women who took care of me. She and Ella. As much as they could, as much as I would allow them; they were my stand-in mothers.

I’m sad. Sad that they are gone. Sad that I didn’t get to tell them how much their caring meant to me. Perhaps it is only now that I realize just how much it meant to me, what a precious gift it was that I had somewhere to go, that I had someone drag me to town and buy me a prom dress, and tell me "You are NOT missing your senior prom!" 

So that covers one side of my associations with the McDonald place. But the other association is much darker. It is a black root twisted around my soul.  And often I don't know which association brings me back there. Maybe both. I don't know. Either way, that place only holds sorrow for me, and it's time to uproot myself from that part of my past. What is the lesson Psyche? Can you be a little more specific so we can move on, please?

Gratitude

My insomnia and anxiety may be in part due to hormonal crapity-doo. If so, hopefully things will mellow out soon. Slept about 7 hours last night. It was good but I am sooooo exhausted still. Trying to keep my chocolate down to a square a day just to minimize any caffeine that may be exacerbating the situation. Got a sweet little yellow puppy snuggled up to me, and a supportive wife on the other side of him. Life really isn't bad, it's just the internal storm that keeps me from seeing the good stuff around me. Gratitude. It's what i harp on to others, but what I need to focus on myself. 

I am grateful for the love from so many people in my life (i'll call you the next time I need to get bailed out of jail Mona!), for my trees, for my garlic patch, my pups, my wife, my car, the smell of horses, the smell of spring grass, the memory of my grandmother. For chocolate, and coffee, and throwing, and my kilts, and bacon socks, and laughter. And bacon. For being able to walk to the mail box, or bend over without pain. To be able to go up the stairs without having to pull myself up. For the days I can slide my foot up to the gas pedal without having to pick up my leg with my hands. For puppy dreams. For videos of baby elephants. For the people who love me when I think I'm unlovable, and who remind me that I am loved.

Thank you.

Reality of convenience

For a change, a post that isn't written while half asleep.
Step 1 down. I've called someone I trust for therapist recommendations. I've also been doing a little research on my own. I know what I need...I just need to find someone who actually does what they say they do.

I'm tired. Exhausted. I spend so much time studying...and worrying. Mostly worrying about stupid, unimportant crap. Working out helps, and throwing helps, but still the worry is consuming my life and my energy. I'm turning into my mother. damn. 

Not sure how much I've written about my mother, but here is one reason I don't want to be like her: She exists in a reality of convenience. 
Here is what I mean by that. She sees what is convenient to see, she remembers what is convenient to remember. She acknowledges what is convenient to acknowledge.

A few examples: 
-When she stayed "too long" with my father, she did it because of me (even though she stayed because she was afraid to step out on her own at her age). When she left him, she did it because of me (even though it was her fears that made her choose to leave). 
-When she was with one of her husbands previous to my father, she conveniently ignored his violence against her children until her turned on her. More recently when this man passed away, she went on and on about what a wonderful man he was...in front of some of those siblings who suffered horrors at his hands.
-When I came out to family, it was a complete surprise to my mother....except for the fact that she had told my siblings a few years before that she thought I was gay.

There are many other examples, but not ones I care to share at this moment. 

But hopefully I've acknowledged what *I* need to acknowledge. 

Yes I am my mother's daughter, but I don't want to be like her. I want to be present, I want to be real, I want to live my life for the moment rather than the past or the unknown future. I want to be associated not with my "paaaaaiiiiinnnn" but with how fricking groovy I am. I want an identity of positivity.  Right now, I don't really have a good sense of what my identity is, either from the outside, or from my own perspective. Whatever it is, it is in transition. It is in my control. Lets see what I make out of this lump of clay. shall we?

12 thoughts

Not sure where this post will go today...lets take a ride and see...

So what I have to report.
1. I've been released from PT. I'm very excited to not be dropping that copay every week. I already kind of miss my PT crew-they're a great bunch of folks. Hip is way better. Still have some improvements to make, but waaaaay better.
2. I'm working on this online class and it is kicking my ass. I spend over 20 hours a week studying and doing my quizzes and still, after getting straight A's in my masters program, and getting B's on the unit tests, and it is frustrating as hell. Not only am I dealing with over-achiever syndrome because "if only I do good enough, maybe I WILL be good enough", but also, this is a prerequisite for a very competitive program and I need all the advantages I can get. So, in short, this class is making me feel like a failure, and stressing me the frak out.
3. I have disengaged from therapy. In part because my life is so stressful between my class, my 3 jobs, and the nasty bout of insomnia I'm going through. And in part because my therapist can't remember what I said in my last sentence. And also because I sought out a therapist specifically for EMDR so I could root out some deep knots, and it turns out the therapist I found had strayed too far off the designated EMDR course to really help me.
4. Anxiety is off the charts. And I'm frustrated as hell with that. I've done soooo many things to address it, and it only seems to be getting worse. I know I need to look for a new therapist, but the anxiety that pops up at the thought of that freezes me in my tracks.
5. I love chocolate. I haven't been eating sugar for a while so I get bakers chocolate and smear homemade sunflower butter on it, and plop a date on top. It's heavenly. I would like to eat some right now, but I know it would mess with my already messed up sleep. Perhaps for breakfast?
6. I'm looking forward to the Phoenix Highland Games. I really thought that the Flagstaff games would be my last competition. And I was depressed as hell. It was with great joy that I realized I could continue to throw...the black dog was sent to the dog house. There are few things that bring me as much joy as throwing. I don't really know why...I'm not particularly good at it...and I kinda hate crowds of people...but it thrills me to no end to strap on my kilt, step on to the field, and join my sisters in a day full of shenanigans.
7. I've been going to the gym regularly and it is helping with my hip issues, and my mental issues. It's become my new "drug."
8. Speaking of drugs, I've been thinking about drinking. A lot. For some time now. I fantasize about it. I know I shouldn't romance it, but I do.
9. I've thought about this a lot. I used to think I had all kinds of friends. Then when I needed them, instead them needing me, I realized I didn't have friends. Who would I call in the middle of the night (besides my wife) if I had an emergency? I wouldn't. I'd deal with it myself. Or not at all. Maybe I'd go to the bar.
10. Am I drunk blogging again with out the booze?
11. Maybe I need to sleep. Maybe I need to write when I'm not so fricking tired.
12. The end.