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.