Last night I had quiet dreams, which was a stark change from the previous two nights. I had dreamt of a conflict with a good friend, who was so arrogant that she couldn’t even acknowledge that I was upset, which was infuriating. In reality, there is a conflict with a friend, but in my dream the conflict was misdirected. And in reality, I suppose there is no actual conflict. We’re simply no longer friends.
The second night I dreamt of Steve Gleason and the debilitating effects of ALS. This was no ordinary dream. I dreamt from his perspective, not being able to talk or walk or move, or even breathe without the assistance of technology. How frustrating and isolating that must be. I woke up, relieved it was over. When I fell back asleep, I was trying to help his wife catch up on daily tasks, which were mounting with the responsibility of a disabled husband and a new son. She didn’t want my help, and that was frustrating to me. I woke up, relieved. When I fell back asleep, I was Rivers, growing up with a dad who was wheelchair bound. This pattern continued throughout the night, me tossing and turning, waking and falling back into another perspective on this horrible disease.
I woke up depressed. Two nights in a row of conflict in my dream. I feel down. I’m exhausted. I fear going back to sleep because I don’t want to enter into an unknown nightmare that even I can’t get myself away from.
Last night was better, but I was in New Hampshire and those dreams usually leave me feeling a little hopeless. I like New Hampshire just fine but I don’t want to be there. I want to be here, in Bend. Disease- and conflict-free.
If you haven’t seen the film Gleason, I highly recommend you watch. With tissues. With the knowledge that 6 years after his diagnosis, Steve Gleason is living a life of purpose and he is happy. There is little reason to take on the depressing thoughts without his permission or request.
On to me. I have been doing well overall, but I can tell that when I start to feel bogged down like this, it’s time to process. Thankfully I have an EMDR session today, but I decided to also blog. This blog is for me, not for you. I do appreciate you reading, but I’m not here to share insights so that you may walk away enlightened. I write this blog to help me process my own thoughts. Knowing that someone may read them helps me to keep them coherent. And if you do walk away with a nugget of enlightenment, well then it’s a win-win. Great teamwork.
Today is March 14th. Rob’s 50th birthday. I had been buried deep in a quilt for his birthday when he casually asked me to pray for discernment about a job he was considering in Washington state. Just writing this causes a physical reaction in my body. It still really hurts.
Of course, being in a relationship and working on trusting others to love me and care for me was challenging for me, but I was doing great. I was excited to put my creative energy into his birthday present. It would be meaningful to both of us.
When I found out he was moving and that he regretted telling me because I was “going off” on him (apparently to him, sharing that I would miss him, and that I would go with him if he asked, that I loved him, is “going off”). It really hurt. We haven’t spoken since.
I’m learning to not take others’ opinions to heart. But this one really got me. I just got done saying the man ripped my heart out of my chest and in so many words told me I never mattered to him and that my love for him was annoying.
Enter every single emotionally, physically, or sexually abusive relationship I’ve ever been in.
Just keep showing your loyalty to them, even though they just got done telling you what a worthless piece of shit you are.
MAIL HIM THE QUILT ANYWAY.
I don’t ducking think so. I’ll let autocorrect win on that one. Keep it rated G, Katy.
No, I am not going to give this quilt away to the person who has already successfully broken my heart a dozen times since last June.
I’m keeping the quilt for me. I suppose it was mine all along. I love this quilt. I love the representation of our long and cold and snowy winter here in Bend. I love the trees. The cabins. the campfire. The picnic tables and bench. And I love most that I get to keep it. This is the second quilt I’ve been able to keep for myself (well, 3rd.. but the first I only kept because it was too ugly to give away. lol).
I have been feeling lonely lately. It’s a combination of working from home and no longer having a car. Both lifestyle changes I really enjoy, but it also means I spend the majority of my time alone at home. Loneliness coupled with depressing dreams and opinions from others on how to spend my heart.. I’m exhausted.
Lastly, I’m trying to decide how/if/when/why to communicate to my dad why I no longer wish to have a relationship with him. My overly empathetic heart is putting him first, and forgetting all the pain and distortion he’s caused me. I guess it’s similar to giving Rob the quilt anyway. Why should I expend my limited resources on someone who will just waste them, and leave me depleted.
I would write to him if it would guarantee that he leaves me alone for the rest of his life. But I am afraid that writing to him will open the line of communication and I don’t want to talk. Not now. Possibly not ever. I cannot read the future but I have no desire to be hurt by the people who are supposed to love me.
Oh, one more thing. I am done feeling frustrated by my weight. I’m done trying to calculate every calorie I consume or burn into a smart phone app and wondering why it never translates onto the scale. What has worked for me in the past—my whole life—has been an intuitive balance of diet and exercise. I’m going to stop obsessing and just start living. My weight, albeit frustrating, and something I want to change, is technically not hindering me from doing anything in my life. I have healthy cholesterol, glucose, blood pressure, cardiovascular recovery, etc. I can run, bike, walk, lift, yoga… I should just get back to life as it has always been for me, which is to enjoy daily activity and enjoy healthy foods and let the rest fall into place. I can’t stand the pressure to constantly remain perfect, which is what happens to me when I am trying to log every bite. I’m over it. Deleting the app as soon as I publish this blog post.
Off to the start of a new day.. wish me luck, send me hugs.. I’m in need of a good long hug and possibly a long, hard cry too.