fire and water

i've learned that my emotions become water when i sleep.

calm, still water. mountain lakes with rope swings. massive water walls of approaching terror. waterfalls. tidal waves. swimming amidst whales, dolphins, sharks. and one of my recurring nightmares, a strange ocean that has two levels - it stretches out for a while, then right in the middle of the ocean is a ledge of water and the rest of the ocean continues on that level. it is terrifyingly unnatural. it seems to be approaching, and brings with it an inescapable finality. my dream water takes so many forms, and each form holds incredible meaning for me upon waking.

i dreamed a new form of water the other night. however unnatural my water dreams may be, they usually occur somewhere out in nature. but this dream was different. i was trapped in a giant complex white concrete reservoir of sterilized water, purified by man's technology, controlled and directed by artificial processes. dazed and blinded, i tried to find my way out of the trap. there were empty white buildings towering on all sides. i felt myself being pulled by the current through the aqueduct, helplessly heading toward some unseen outlet, unable to find a handhold along the endless white concrete edges of the maze.
there was no escape.

this morning, i was among a large gathering of people in the rolling hills, surrounded only by grass and sky and sun. there was music, lovers holding hands, children laughing, hula dancing, relaxing in the sun. in the distance i saw a line of smoke against the sky. the oblivious crowd continued their playful festivities while the horizon darkened. it was up to me to bring them to safety. when i stood upon the crest of the hill, it became clear that the smoke was coming from the city of our origin. it was thick and dense and dark, yet seemed cold, like the mist on a mountaintop. there was no clear path home to safety. yet we had no supplies to sustain us if we journeyed away from the city. i watched as ashes and glowing embers were carried on the wind around our valley. the fire was moving swiftly, much faster than we ever could. terror and chaos began stirring within our hearts as we scrambled up and over the hills, scattering in every direction. the air was filled with smoke and sparks and ashes, yet held an eerie glow, as if light was radiating from the earth. i could see the faces of panic and bewilderment as the flames slowly encircled us. we were powerless against its power.
there was no escape.

trip down memory galactic wormhole

sometimes i get all mixed up and question all my assumptions.

is up down? am i the only real human and everything else around me just some sort of made-up imaginary scenario? am i merely a test subject in some weird experiment? are the people i consider friends actually evil beings who have charismatically soothed my suspicions, lulled me into a hypnotic trust, only to twist my mind and bend me to their will? am i being unknowingly used for evil purposes? is god testing me? are meds the work of the devil? am i being fooled? taken in by the lies, lured by the promises of artificial fixes rather than facing my demons and battling them head-on? am i cheating? will i die without finding the real solution, when it was right there waiting for me to stop taking my drugs and feel what's real? am i failing? am i missing the entire purpose of life?

i've been asking myself these questions all my life. however, i was not especially concerned or worried about them until around age 16. ever since then, there has been an inescapable deep and constant fear that lingers backstage in me, a half-hidden abyss within, waiting for my inevitable careless misstep.

i believe the catalyst for this terror comes from my experiences while living on the streets, ingesting massive quantities of LSD (eating multiple tabs of blotter at once, drinking entire vials of liquid, getting "puddled" by the guy who sold it, etc.), completely aimless and defenseless, adrift in a sea of chaos. i was with all the street kids, my boyfriend's name was "cosmo" and he looked out for me. i did not love him. i was alone. i was not afraid. i was searching. i felt such an incredible longing for something but i didn't know what. at 16 i chose that life, i left a perfectly good and loving family to seek out a world without bounds.

on one occasion, i saw aural glows around people; individuals who were negative had very dim glowing auras, while more positive, spiritual beings had brighter, more vibrant glows. i could also sense the existence of a singular incredibly shining aura but it was far away.
then there was the time that i heard people's words before they spoke them. i could actually speak in unison with whoever was talking.
on another occasion, i encountered the gates to heaven and hell. i got to choose which way to go. i wanted to go to heaven, but couldn't figure out how to get in. i tried to die. i sped up my heart rate until it was nearly one constant beat, just an intense vibration, but i still could not get in. i figured it was because i was meant to go to hell instead. so i tried that. but that didn't work either. finally it dawned on me that the only answer there ever was is to take the middle path. and that's what i did.
i dissolved all the barriers of time and space, dissolved the division between myself and the boundless. i became infinite, eternal. i connected the beginning and the end so that all was one.

eventually i came face to face with my own existence. the meaninglessness of my aimless life was revealed to me. all of a sudden i was accountable for my choices. it became painfully clear to me that i had selfishly disregarded the magnitude of the pain i inflicted on all those who loved me. i had resented their concern and rejected their love, spit hatred upon them when i walked out the door, while they helplessly watched me drift into the uncharted chaotisphere, stubbornly bound for destruction and pain.

the vastness of these experiences can never be undone. it merely gets reinterpreted with every moment, every up, every down. i am human, i must be bound. upon returning home to make amends, i once again became confined to my body, my life, my experience. everything i experience must pass through my filter of understanding. and now i know all too well that my filter is not a consistent one. it oscillates in extremes.
after having expanded my perception to such an extent, i had a hard time adjusting to the confinement of the practical world. i used to hear, read, interpret everything to be direct messages to me, if only i could decode them. as if god were trying to get through to me, but i was so far away and so muddled in my mind and soul that everything had become scrambled into hidden messages instead of clear transmissions.
i recently came across the phrase "delusions of reference."
i think i understand what that means.

but am i truly crazy? can i fight this disease? am i making it up to have justification for my irrational life? am i taking the easy way out, blaming my inner weakness on a diagnosis? should i be trying harder to heal this sick mind and heart of mine? will i ever be whole, healthy, real?

new blog toy

So check it out -take a look at the bottom of my blog page - I have this new little customized search engine that is google-based. You just type in whatever keywords you want to search and it offers a list of sites that are related to my blog. It's kinda cool, even though i feel slightly cheap for putting it on there. like i'm sponsored by google or something. but i was curious and wanted to see how it works, so if you wanna, give it a try and let me know what kinds of results you get. if it's useless i'll take it off. i promise.

Today Is A Vibrant Day!!

I could tell things were going well with me before I even opened my eyes. The first alarm on my cell phone is set at 4:55am; it is the pre-wake nudge to help me (too frequently unsuccessfully) process and respond to the next several alarms, slogging my way to the bathroom in a groggy, heavy-lidded stupor to splash some cold water upon my pillow-creased face. This morning, however, it rang its gentle little song while I listened happily, easily shifting into refreshed wakefulness.

My phone has three sequential alarms that are spaced in 13 minute increments. Why thirteen, you ask? Let me explain. More often than not, I choose to "snooze" at least one alarm (that is, if it has even managed to penetrate my thick pre-dawn coma) As long as I have the timing of each alarm spaced properly, when the snooze time is up it will not reactivate at the same moment the next alarm is scheduled to go off. This prevents me from thinking (erroneously) that I am still only on my first alarm, rather than my the second or third. Each alarm rings a different tune, and a few days ago I had chosen new tones as I had become desensitized to the old ones, assimilating them into my dreams as a soundrack.

For some odd reason I found the new songs delightful, and let them each play over and over until they were silenced by the auto-snooze imposed by my phone.

At this point it occurs to me that I had turned off my phone reception in the middle of the night. This was in response to a call from my ex. He has always been my Achilles' heel when it comes to taking care of myself. I loved him for so long, far longer than I wanted to, for years after we split up, with an aching full and empty love that would not fade away. It tortured me and expanded me at the same time. We have not spoken or seen each other for many months, and we both know we will never find common ground to stand upon together. Yet I still love him with all my heart, and the love is that much sweeter for having distance to appreciate it.

I do not answer the call.

I wake to the world, take a bath and wash my hair (something I have to say I have neglected for too long, immobilized by apathy until today), put on a cozy hippie skirt made out of patchwork plaid flannel, and arrived at work invigorated and sweet-smelling a full ten minutes early.

All my favorite people are working today. I watched the sun rise with my spunky beautiful friend erin and we walked, arms linked, to the coffee shop. The girl behind the counter gave us an extra coffee drink because she made a mistake.

I've been humming to myself all day, and when I talk with others, sometimes I put the words into a song just to make them smile. I finally get to be a child today, my true nature. My skirt swishes and swings and I like to spin around so that it floats all around me.

Panda asked if he could feel it.

He likes fuzzy things too.

.

Now that I think about it, I remember how the fun little girl inside got to start coming out to play yesterday, when it was too hot at my desk but I couldn't open the window because of the jackhammer. Usually if I put my hair up in one ponytail I get a bad headache by the middle of the day. But it was really hot, so I had to do something. I decided it was time to bring the little girl back out. It's been a really long time since I've been able to wear the little spazzy teddy bear buns on my head, but finally the darkness has lifted, and so my hair gets to do fun things! Yay!! My coworkers seemed to approve, and I am just quirky enough to be able to get away with all kinds of wacky outfits, hairstyles, and behavior because they're all used to my weirdness by now. I have a habit of fidgeting with things, and by the afternoon my hair looked more like a puppy dog or a flop-eared rabbit which i guess is almost just as good. Too bad I can't do my hair to look like a kitten!

At my request, my new psychiatrist has changed around my meds. I have been slowly decreasing the Lexapro over the past few months and am down from 50mg a day (!) to 10mg. My goal is to eliminate it completely. I specifically requested to do this because every time I skipped a day or forgot to call in my refill on time (all too often), I'd get sick. Feverish, congested, achy, migraine headaches, etc... You'd think I was in withdrawl from some gnarly hard drug or something. I'm taking less Adderall too, down to 10mg a day from like 60 or something. And finally I have Wellbutrin again! I can't even remember why I got switched off that in the first place. I'm sure there was a reason...

The change in my outlook, my energy, my demeanor - it is palpable, it has cleared the air I breathe.

It has adjusted the grip depression's extra gravitational pull had on me.

I can love in a sweet way instead of a bitter way.

Please, please stay awhile!

Keep me breathing this way, in and out, without effort.

Rebellion

Powerfully, full of conviction, I say:

I am so done with being dysfunctional. From now on, I simply refuse. I am through playing my part in this twisted play I've authored, perpetually manifesting a fucked up reality and assuming it is the only one, the hand I've been dealt. But it got old a long time ago, and I will not accept it any longer. It took me far too long to realize that I have a choice. I refuse to be my own victim any more.

Of course, in the background, i notice i am chuckling sadly to myself and shaking my head, thinking ahhh, so i'm here again. well, let me believe it for a while, for god's sake i've been through so much - i deserve a moment of empowerment. perhaps i'll actually accomplish something for once before my positivity crumbles into chaos!

Damn. i heard that. you act all encouraging and supportive, when really all you do is just fucking wear me down. i wish i could just hold my ears and block you out, but you aren't out there. Why can't you just shut the fuck up and go away? FUCK YOU!!! i will not let you erode what little inner power i can muster. leave me the fuck alone.

so what

i start out with the intention to write something, but am stopped by my own mind saying "get over yourself" and then i feel ashamed to even have a blog. like i'm so important that anyone would want to read about me. sometimes i know i can write beautiful things. other times, like now, like most of the time, the words are empty and ugly. everything i try to do right now feels contrived. however, i feel a weird obligation to write, as if i made some sort of promise to somebody that i would, and i am so sick of watching myself never follow through. i've only done anything halfway my whole life, giving up or losing my grip before anything comes of anything. i have never learned to push through the depression, the apathy, the chaos, the mood storms to create something complete. so many years of starts and stops, failures and flying colors, try trying again. it took me a decade to get my AA in philosophy. am so sick of myself, disgusted at my lifetime of failures.
that's all i have to say today.

the gun

sometimes i get these intrusive thoughts that spin round and round bombarding my brain like a broken record. sometimes it is a visual image, sometimes it is a repeating word or phrase. for example, the word suicide gets whispered quite frequently inside my mind. usually i understand that it comes from my own troubled spirit, but every once in a while it really seems to be inflicted upon me by outside forces, like when they wouldn't stop chanting, kill yourself, kill yourself. luckily, whoever's behind that hasn't bothered me for a while.
last night it was the gun. just a two-second video clip of holding it to my head, pulling the trigger. over and over and over and over. it's a familiar image, one that persistently haunts me in my darker times. it's more of a response to the death that already lies within. it is the natural result. there's no struggle, just blunt finality. over and over.
this thought comes to me because it is safe. i know i will not be compelled to act. it reassures me.
but last week it was the arm. the soft pale tender inside of my forearm. sliced in perfect parallel lines from wrist to inner elbow, warm fresh blood just beginning to peek out from the incisions. this one is dangerous, because it is real. it is alluring. it begs to be. this image usually comes to me after a sexual encounter i've slipped into unexpectedly, triggering the shame i carry within. the shame that surfaces after the eye contact and flirtation and the drinks and the manic escalation into reckless abandon. this is the me that distracts me from my constant inner darkness. it comes out to play and flirt and live the absolute fullness of life in every drop of every moment. i look back and am embarrassed for her. she forgets that she is crazy. she pushes so far past all limits and doesn't look back to see how people stare and whisper to each other. she takes the respect that once was there, that i worked for so hard for so long to earn, and she rips it to shreds laughing and dancing and she tosses it into the air above her head just to watch it sparkle and fizz as it floats to the floor of the bar where everyone spills their drinks, where people lean down as their insides rebel and become outsides in vile puddles and chunks in the corner, where everything gets scraped up and hosed down and flushed away.
there is no control. when i get a taste of the sweetness of light, i must have more. it becomes an all-you-can-eat buffet of manic rush. i shovel it in, i steal from everyone's table, i gorge myself until i am overflowing. frantically, urgently, quick before it's too late!
and then it is too late.

frustration!!!!

i have started and erased this first sentence too many times and can't get anything out. i hate my fucking chaotic perfectionistic sick head. i guess i'll try again later.

falling away

so, the thickness is settling in around me. everything i hear sounds muffled and far away. yesterday the lights seemed too bright, almost assaulting. yesterday i was afraid. i could feel where i was headed. but today things are dim and distant, not unlike a dream. i've been here before, this used to be my home. i'm ok with settling in here for a while.
whatever.

The beginning of something new?

As I drove home last night, I simultaneously felt a lifting up and a pulling down within. How strange, and yet somehow familiar. I could feel myself slowly lengthening inside. My breath became deeper, my neck longer, my longing more urgent, my thoughts more still.
I can't help but wonder what triggered this shift.
Perhaps my music [Album: Spiritchaser; Artist: Dead Can Dance] activated some long-dormant spiritual quest I've forgotten I held within. I found the cassette on my floor yesterday. Why did it suddenly appear? It's been years, perhaps more than five, since I listened to that tape. I haven't even owned a tape player until I was graced with a Honda complete with old-school cassette player. Music has always been a very powerful emotional presence within me. It pulls me in, fills me, becomes me. There is no me. I am pure music. Even thinking about the power of music makes me ache for just one more musical drowning. Lonely. I am afraid now. I am safe, separated from the wholeness. The interconnectivity is too powerful, too much for me to experience without feeling desperately alone when it's gone. My eyes just now began to well with tears of pure feeling. Will I never feel that wholeness, that complete undeniable realness of the moment? Is it playing with fire? Now I feel so full and empty inside just from writing, thinking about it.
I recently decreased my Lexapro dosage from 30mg down to 25. My official dosage is 50mg because that is the amount that keeps my depression at bay. But at 50mg, any time I miss a day I get sick. Why is that? I decided to lower my dosage slowly to prevent the more sudden and severe withdrawal that comes when I forget to pick up my refill. I worry about what this chemical is doing to me, how it affects the goings-on inside.
I can feel the depression playing with me. Fluctuating. It sinks in and fills me, then takes a few steps back. It lingers on the sidelines pacing. I am agitated. I work alongside my former husband who has his own ups and downs, both emotionally and drug-ly. I've remained (become?) close friends once we both adjusted to the divorce, however days like today are a challenge. Today I can tell he has been using again. It makes me want to crawl out of my own skin and into the fishbowl next to me. Captain Nemo wouldn't mind, I'm sure - we've spent many hours gazing meaningfully into each other's eyes. He comes up to kiss my nose sometimes.
i deleted the rest of this blog for personal reasons. maybe i'll explain that later.