Motivational Reading

When Andie asked me to write this entry, I thought easy. I can do that. What inspires me from reading other’s blogs? The answer is so simple. It’s… Hrm. What does inspire me? So after thinking about this long and hard, I realized it’s not a simple answer. I’ll pare it down to this.

I have enjoyed blogging since about 2003. It gave my out-of-work-pregnant-butt the motivation to be productive. Reading my “daily reads” became as routine as reading the newspaper. I needed to continue reading to stay informed because in this day and age of rapid-fire tweets and Facebook updates, it’s easy to feel left out of the loop in a hurry. That said, it’s a two way street; to get read you also need to write.

Blogging is such a narcissistic hobby. As the writer, we want comments, hits, and a regular following . It feeds the megalomaniacal monkey on our backs. However, it’s not long before beginning to write that you ask yourself, so now what? I’ve run out of ideas. Read my friends. Assuming your blog was noteworthy at some point or another, you are likely to have received a comment from a stranger. Read their blog. Even if you hate it, there is likely to be something you can borrow. An idea for a topic, an interesting, or a global game like The Freaking Green Elf Shorts.

** Aside note: Interestingly, many of my blog-friends have been past winners of the shorts.

Many things have inspired me in the past. In the end, at the risk of sounding like a greeting card, its the friendships I’ve made online that seem to get my creative juices flowing. Take this one for example. I met Loralee from a post I did regarding my love of John Denver. She found me based on this random fact and we’ve found that we have a lot more in common - not all of it good. The things that makes me love her blog though? Her writing style. She has a youthful vibe in her words that I only wish I could emulate. I try, believe me I do.

The other reason friends rock? They will gladly kick you in the butt for delaying their daily/weekly/monthly/whathaveyou read. Few will keep coming back if you don’t write something, anything. Even if it’s a silly photo or song (I once used the Bad Day song by Daniel Powter on my page for a month until Tazzy and Piggy suggested I axe it. I thought it worked as my theme song. They kindly disagreed with me.) Point is? The same post staring them in the face won’t sell. I know, I’ve tried the “disappearance” and that’s what you get, disappearing readers. I just try to remember to write bird-by-bird and cross my fingers that my brainwave of the moment was a good one.

Beautiful Dreamer

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A Dream Analysis

Sunday, August-15-10

I dreamt of having sex with a boy of about 13-15. It’s strange that I can’t remember now, because in my dream it was clear to me -- his age. I know he was young enough that he didn’t have an open pore or mark on his perfect baby face. He never had used a razor obviously. He believed we were in love. I knew better. The odd thing was, the sex act itself was wonderful. It was tender, and loving and natural. We’d been spending some time individually alone in the Olympic, lit up swimming pool at his abundant home, away from the vulturous eyes of family and friends. Oddly, we began to relate to one another in a loner-kind-of-way and it felt right. Almost immediately after it happened, I realized it was something I wanted to forget ever occurred. Following me around like a lost puppy dog and hoping I’d play video games or plan a date with him I tried to distance myself diplomatically.

Walking down the street, and ignoring the childish attempts at conversation from my unexpected lover, I leave my friends, a couple, to continue walking ahead of me, and enter a building on the left with my admirer in pursuit. I climb the stairs immediately before me, and find they end in an unfinished/locked off area. Feeling devilish, I break in with my young-love and revert back to the hierarchy of pleasantries I was experiencing with the young boy moments before we made love. It was easy, and comfortable, and while it was probably too close (because in reality, this is the sort of close friendship one has with a husband or boyfriend) I enjoyed being around him. We hear a noise, and realize it is the handyman there to repair this elevator shaft or mechanical doorway or whatever this is and silently crept down a few stairs and waited with bated breath and hearts a thumping. Then, my friends noisily enter the building and tell us to get a move on. We don’t waste time wondering about the old janitor.

Dangerously, when he realized that I had used him and did something I shouldn’t have, hell hath no fury like an adolescent scorned. He went crying to his parents and extended family at this dinner party I was in attendance of that he’d experienced a break up. In disbelief they learned that I was the “little boy crush” and in fact, it had gone beyond infatuation, and leapt into the realm of adult physical love. The other grown ups were trying to therapeutically explain to him that I was the adult. That what I did was wrong, that he did nothing wrong and was not accountable for his feelings. I knew this was true. I felt awful. I was confronted, judged and threatened by each and every one of them all at once. I could feel their hatred and disgust with my perverse self. I knew that I was realistically trying to deny to myself what I was, but the label was an aberration in itself to me. Pedophile. I was one of those people I despised the most. I wanted to believe that I had made a simple mistake that I could just fib my way out of. When in doubt, deny. They weren’t buying it and it was becoming a lynching. In the dark and wet street I could see the face of my object of love. It was seething, revenge driven, and brokenhearted. I felt pain for hurting him, stealing his innocence, and a loss of (selfishly) his love and affection. I awoke feeling bitter and unsettled.

************Translation with thanks ***********************

Pedophile
To dream that you are a pedophile signifies a transitional phase in your life. You want to explore and experiment. This dream may leave you extremely disturbed, ashamed or embarrassed, but it does not necessarily mean that you have pedophilic tendencies. Perhaps you are feeling ambiguous or insecure about your own sexuality.

Swimming Pool
To see a swimming pool in your dream, symbolizes relaxation, calmness, luxury and ease. You need to take a break. Alternatively, a swimming pool suggests that you need to acknowledge and understand your feelings. It is time to dive in and deal with those emotions. You need to cleanse yourself and wash away those past hurts.

Party
To dream that you are at a party, suggests that you need to get out more and enjoy yourself. If the party is a bad one, then it indicates that you are unsure of your social skills.

Guilt
To dream that you feel guilty about something, relates to how you are handling your successes and failures or competence and incompetence. You may feel undeserving of your achievements. Or on the other hand, you feel that you have let others down. Alternatively, the dream is symbolic of repressed and negative feelings that you may have about yourself.

Street
To see a street in your dream, symbolizes your life's path. The condition of the street reflects how much control you have over the direction of your life. Consider also the name on the street as it may offer some significance or advice to the meaning of the dream. To see or travel on side streets in your dream, refer to a need to explore an alternative way of life

Pavement
To see or walk on pavement in your dream, suggests that you have a clear understanding and grasp of a situation. You are standing on solid ground. The dream may also indicate that you have paved and laid out a firm path toward your life goals.

Wet
To dream that you are wet indicates that you are overcome with emotions. It also signifies a spiritual cleansing, rebirth or renewal. Alternatively, the dream may imply sexual arousal.
**NOTE: I wasn’t wet, but the street was!

Night
To have a dream that takes place at night, represents some major setbacks and obstacles in achieving your goals. You are being faced with an issue that is not so clear cut. Perhaps, you should put the issues aside so you can clear your head and come back to it later. Alternatively, night may be synonymous with death, rebirth, reflection, and new beginnings.

Sex
To dream about sex, refers to the integration and merging of contrasting aspects of yourself. It represents psychological completion. You need to be more receptive and incorporate aspects of your dream sex partner into your own character. Consider the nature of the love-making. Was it passionate? Was it slow? Was it wild?

The sex act parallels aspect of yourself that you wish to express. A more direct interpretation of the dream, may be your libido's way of telling you that it has been too long since you have had sex. It may indicate repressed sexual desires and your needs for physical and emotional love.

If you dream of having sex in a public place, then the dream implies that others are talking about your private relationship.

To dream about sex with someone other than your spouse or significant other, suggests dissatisfaction with the physical side of your relationship. On the other hand, it may be harmless fantasy. In such situations, you may find that you are less inhibited sexually. Perhaps you need to bring the same sense of adventure into your existing relationship.

If you dream that you are having sex with a stranger, then it represents uncertainty about what is ahead. Alternatively, the dream allows you to experiment freely without having any hang ups, emotional baggage or preconceived notions associated with a person you would know. In such a scenario, you are able to let loose and express your desires, passions and emotions.

Starting to Get The Writing Bug Again.

Baby steps, right? I know I am not ready to go to the place that fiction and soul searching takes me. Each time I lose someone who has been close to me, it seems to take me about 5 years to get to a place where I can deal with my feelings head on. Even make-believe ones necessary for fiction. But, blogging was my friend once when I was pregnant for the second time in my life, 9 years later, with a different baby-daddy and finding it hard to find anyone close to me able to empathize with the ups and downs of my hormone-laden feelings.

It's not that I liked being subversive, but I felt I just was. I was going to have a son. I had a mother-in-law that not only didn't know her place, but seemed hell bent on convincing me that "this time it would be different" and that "that other time" wasn't a real baby. This one was her son's blood. I watched my daughter shrink sadly to the corner when I felt she should be shining. She used to ask me, why doesn't my Gramma love me? It would break my heart. I didn't know how to tell an innocent girl that through no fault of her own, she would always be inferior and barely good enough for the odd urge that MIL got to fulfill of dressing up a living doll in charming dresses. Instead, right or wrong, I told her that Gramma had only had experience with boys in her life, since Daddy was an only child, and that it was just easier to relate to her grandson. She'd smile sadly at me, and wise beyond her years she'd nod and quietly return to the shadows.

It was hard. I knew I was conflicted. I knew it wasn't right the way I felt, but I felt I had to love the sunshine in my life twice as much for what she was lacking elsewhere. I was sad. I wanted to love my new arrival as much as I loved my first born. I wondered, is this just because he is Secondus? That Primus somehow held a more powerful, supremest position in my heart? Was I experiencing some kind of postpartum depression? Was I crazy for getting angry when everyone (seemingly) was telling me what it would be like to have a newborn and I'd bitingly reply I was already a mother?

Anyway, my point is, it made me find a lot of friends. I speak with many of them to this day on facebook. I exchange Christmas cards with some and the occasional special piece of mail or a heartfelt personal email. This meant so much to me in bleak times where I was trying to find that elusive light at the end of the tunnel and chasing dangling carrots all the way to nowhere.

I am healing. I am going through a very different part of my journey now, but there is just the faintest glimmer of light at the end of this path. I like to imagine, that that light contains friends and love and self-acceptance and contentment with where I am and what I have. I am hoping that my erratic postings to this blog will be the vehicle that gets me there.

Early One Morning - Jim Moray

Scared

The theme song of my life at the moment. I am afraid to write this post because someone may take offense to it, namely everyone in my universe. I do not want to be medicated anymore. But, everyone else seems to know what is best for me. Even the person I cared about most in this world. My husband. I know that all will be denied. I know that I will be labeled insane. I think that people around me are using medications to screw up my head. There I said it. I am switching from one pill to another pill to another pill and then there are those around me using that to their advantage. Each time a chemical imbalance occurs, it is so easy then to give me say a muscle relaxant to screw up another receptor, or something say I'm mildly allergic to to make me feel sick and wonder what the heck is wrong with me, or say just a moment of sadness at what has been happening with me and someone feels that I shouldn't be this sad and upset. I am screwed in the head. I know it. I feel I am being punished for something. What did I do to deserve this though? No one deserves this. These drugs are not mixing well and my brain is so cross wired that I feel like swiss cheese.

I wish I could think straight.
I wish I wasn't afraid.
I wish I could turn back time to when I thought that everyone around me loved and cared for me.
I can't.

I keep asking myself....what would have been the harm in letting me believe that I was loved. God, why couldn't I have died in that fire? I would have died believing my husband and family grieved me. Maybe that is a selfish thought. But, right now? I am left with the knowledge that people in this earth felt I had a daughter I didn't deserve, a life I didn't deserve, I husband I didn't deserve and now I must pay for all of them.

Do I know that someone (someone who would know my passwords to my gmail and therefore my blogger) is going to read this and then with that inside knowledge is going to hurt me further? Yes. Sadly. But for my own sanity, I needed to write this down. I needed to pretend for the moment that this stupid, cry for help was private. I needed to pretend that God or my deceased daughter is listening.

Is that crazy? I am thinking that there are loads of people then that also are.

I am mourning.

Not only the life of my daughter and how very much I will miss her.
I am mourning for myself.
I am mourning for my son.
I am mourning for our future.
I feel it is all over.

Rereading what I've written, it sounds so very much like I am suicidal/psychotic.
Chemically speaking, I am.
Will anyone out there believe me?
No.
Can anyone out there help me?
No.
Do I know my fate and still feel powerless?
Yes.
Do I know that it is entirely possible that some helpful soul will dose me once too many times, and cause my death either directly or indirectly?
Yes.
Will it appear to be suicide?
Yes.
Are there "friends" or "family" that would secretly love to see me deteriorate and then be first in line to tell the world how they only wanted to help me?
Oh god, I"m so afraid that the answer is yes.

Writing this down, I realize there isn't a soul out there with enough compassion to see things how I see them. I sound like a lunatic, therefore, I must be one.

I am so afraid.

Has it Really Been 2 Months Already?!?

It is nearing the end of summer. The very worst one of my life. Funny how I wished for it to come for so long and yearned for the warmth that I now fear so strongly. It was so yearned for, we took our first family Caribbean vacation last Christmas. It breaks my heart now that we didn't enjoy this last one as a family, in the traditional togetherness. A painful reminder of all the vacations that will now never come to pass.
You see, my daughter left this world on June 22nd, 2008.
There isn't a moment currently my mind is not on this sad day in some form or another.
I still feel like my very worst possible scenario fears have come to pass.
I am told time is the only saving grace from the misery, but sometimes, I wish I could either stop time, or go back in it.
However, I guess I will have to wait and see.
As hard as this is...I choose to live.