Teaching Myself

Don't hold me to this, but I'm kinda working on writing a memoir. Basically I've started reading about it and working on random writing exercises. Very early stage stuff. I still can't see myself as a writer (even though I went to school for a degree in English) but life keeps leading me back to words, so here I am again, trying something new.

Anyways, this post isn't about a memoir project, it's about some realizations I've gained in these early stages of work.

First, it's not about where I'm going, it's the journey. Reflecting on my memories, haunting or happy, and analyzing, reflecting, and processing makes me realize that sifting through my feelings and finding my truths is the real point to writing. I already do this quite often while trying to combat my depression, but trying to boil down and refine meaning from my life is a much more challenging task than just teasing out feelings!

A finished product isn't as important as the transformative process of writing, thinking, and creating.

Second, I struggle to internalize my insights because I lack self-validation. As much as I wish to throw off hurtful rules that have guided my life for so many unhealthy years (namely that I am worthless, not good enough, and have no authority) I fail to transform insight into altered behavior because I don't respect myself. How can my insight be meaningful if I don't respect the source of the revelations?

Historically, I take in other people's advice, comments, and opinions like air. It goes right down and settles in my soul. Societal norms, advertisements, media-it all gets under my skin. Well lately I've been in turmoil, a small part of me resisting that pattern, challenging the "norm," another part of me wanting to blindly forge ahead without questioning the system.

My need for acceptance and validation lends itself well to herd behavior but wears on my soul. I have been forfeiting power over my life for far too long. Following the rules like a good girl and trying to fit in with a dysfunctional norm has exploited my weakness, the original lesson I learned so long ago that I am worthless. My life has been based on a lie. Now that I recognize this, it's up to me to change it, up to me to rewrite the internal laws governing my life. Up to this point all incoming information has been revised to support the conclusion that I'm worthless, now I have to reverse it all. I have to save myself from the inside out.

It's on me.

I'm terrified of that responsibility. I've been avoiding ownership of my life for fear of failure and disappointing others, and in doing so I have disappointed myself.

I have changes to make. I realize that the pressure and expectations I toil under come from within and not from others. Like a broken slave I have been brainwashed. I have learned bad lessons, been bombarded with misinformation, and lived my life based on erroneous beliefs. It doesn't matter how the damage was done or what mistakes have been made. I can change now. I matter now. I have authority to change the rules that I live by.

Change is happening. It's messy, it's confusing, but it's happening. Part of that mess is declaring my authority as teacher, my authority to question as well as generate valid conclusions-and believing in that declaration. It's not self-evident, it's a practice of faith. I believe in me.

I believe in me.

Melatonin Hangover & Some Odd Dreams

Last night the hubby and I tucked into bed and chatted about the day before drifting off the sleep. 

Ha, right. That was the plan. 

Instead an all too familiar tension in my stomach and a wave of dark thoughts curtailed my sleep. Anxiety was settling in. Before the hours of sighing, tossing, and turning could ensue the hubby brought me some melatonin. Before I knew it I was off in dreamland, wading through intensely detailed, nonsense dreams in a heavy sleep. 

This morning was a rather slow start because of it. I was finally able to oompf myself outta bed after 9:30 am, but not without the cursory guilt trip and fear over backsliding fought to keep me in bed til noon. I can't imagine using prescription or other OTC sleep aids when melatonin can pack such a punch for me!

Anyhow, the dreams. 

I jotted down some key parts on the mirror this morning but still can't recall all the details. Here is what I can remember:

I was in a small local shop. Housed in a renovated home it seemed to be a florist with a little toy shop and Christmas decorations. Family friends were there with me and I was helping my friend's younger daughter pick out gifts for her class. There was some wibble-wobbling and consideration but we finally decided on 3-inch tall Disney figurines (similar to the Vinylmation collectables) and small notepads. We picked out almost thirty of each of the items and piled them into our arms.

Then my dream shifted. Still set in the same location but instead of helping the young girl I was sitting on an old sofa in a waiting area at the shop and chatting with family and friends. 

I can't remember the exact conversation but I remember some feelings. Whatever the topic was somehow I made some comment revealing how much I had struggled the past couple years and I remember the honesty I felt and resolve, a peacefulness tinged with a little fear of rejection. I also recall the shock and confusion of my mother and our mutual friend as they tried to reconcile the truth I told them and the person they had thought I was. 

That section of the dream was somewhat familiar. A familiar theme to my thoughts and dreams where I violate peoples' expectations and shock them with honesty. I suppose it's a fantasy of mine to be able to stand up for myself, express myself and own my identity without conforming to expectations of others. Funny how we can't know ourselves without the reflections provided by others, yet our identities often become clouded or inhibited by others projections.

Then the dream moved forward again and I was loading a used pre-lit, artificial Christmas tree into a truck along with an assortment of decorations. I drove the truck "home" which was no place I recognized and proceeded to put the tree up and decorate it, but there were some very odd decorations. 

The weirdest decoration was a slip. A large white slip that covered the entire tree. The directions implied that the slip go over the tree before adding the garlands and ornaments but I only put the slip over half the tree before realizing how stupid it was and how I couldn't see the needles. It was all very odd. 

I threw the slip aside and proceeded to cover the tree with the rest of the ornaments and garlands. White, gold, and silver. It felt bridal. I felt rebellious for disregarding the "tree slip," but satisfied with the tree decorated in my own fashion.

After that dream apparently I dreamed something about a rather large, fat guy dancing with bottles of coca-cola. Don't remember all that. But the dream after that I do remember, it took place in a band room....

It was a band class reunion and I was rather a mess not having practiced and barely able to read music. Talk about feeling in over my head! For whatever reason I was sitting next to my high school beau (if you know anything about band seating you know trumpets and bassoons are in very different sections) and I remember feeling some awkwardness. Not because we didn't want to see each other, but because something was very wrong and he was upset and I could sense it, and he knew that I knew something was wrong.

Before you know it, we were talking and crying and I had figured out that his wife was sick. Very sick. Like MS or some other horrible ravaging mysterious disease. It was awful. Yet beautiful. We still had a connection and I was able to comfort him without any weird tension. It was just a natural chemistry lending itself to a sensitive moment, nothing more. Just a moment of supreme clarity and understanding. A moment for him to cry and break down with someone he trusted and knew would understand. And that was it. We returned to our music, tears streaming down our cheeks. Playing for that moment, our past, our separate futures, and for his wife.

Those are the dreams. 

Man I wanna pull my bassoon out and see if I can still manage an F scale!

In other news, I've been managing to clean more but still feeling sluggish. The hubby and I are feeling some anxiety over me being home alone again and avoiding backsliding. We've decided that it's all right to have those feelings, be aware of the risks and situation but don't want to over analyze or worry ourselves into breakdowns. Day by day, we'll be vigilant but forgiving.

The pets are all right but still shedding flea dust so flea treatments are in our future, and lots of vacuuming. Iroh is enjoying having his fountain back (originally decorative it is now nearly entirely dedicated to his hydration and entertainment) and Millie has taken to sleeping on my side of the bed during the day. Fio has sprouted a wart or something on his nose and it otherwise his barky, scratchy self!