So, I'm on a few drugs, as one might imagine. One, for Migraines, makes me sleepy, and another, to kill my awful symbolic nightmares, puts me under too. The net result of this marriage is that I'm dead to the world until between 10 and noon. So...
I dropped my dose of the miracle nightmare inhibitor a bit and, though it took a week or so, the nightmares started returning. Once again, every night was filled with dreams of my parents' old house, of rot and decay, and nothing overtly meaning what it was, but my mind knowing what it represented. Imagine my surprise when I had a dream of my brother and I getting along - before I remembered it all. All-the-while there was something telling me there was more, but I didn't know what. All-the while he made hints that I didn't understand, but I do now in hindsight. We got along. And this morning I'm left facing that end of his betrayal.
When I was 16, he sat me down and apologized for what he'd done to me - knowing I only remembered one incident. He said he'd never have done it if he knew I would have grown up to be so cool. (As if there's any time it's okay.) He said he did it to get back at my mother for having me. ...and she didn't care. We were together against her.
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Et tu, Brute?
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This dream forced me to face the fact that I liked him. I didn't remember. We had so much in common once I'd grown up enough, and I liked him. And all-the-while he kept hinting at things he'd done, interjecting it into conversation with a straight face. What word is there for a cut like that, or an evil like him?
I feel ill.
~DC
I've always had a fascination with Alice in Wonderland, since I was a kid. Though I'd seen the movie, I read the books on my own. Maybe I related to being a strange girl in a strange world where nobody understood her, maybe I related to the girl tormented by the capricious the queen-mother figure who was friendly one second and the next had declaring her death sentence, or maybe it's how I seem to keep giving myself good advice but rarely ever follow it.
So many times I've had revelations about how my life correlates to my family and how I need to change, but I forget. Yesterday, in the shower, I remembered that my mother has no respect for her house or her husband. I remembered the state of their place and how nobody could ever take a shower if they wanted to with all of the cat feces and clothes in the tub. They must never wash! And here, after not washing my hair on upwards of 10 days, and not bathing for two, I felt a bit ill. I don't want to be like them. I keep thinking I have a higher standard than they do... and here I was. Granted, I was depressed, but I have to draw a line.
...if only there were a way I could remember I'd thought this so I could make sure I keep doing something about it.
:-)
I should get back to cleaning now. My cupcakes won't bake themselves.
~DC
Migraines. Just when I think depression is enough, there's one more thing to keep me down.
And in case anyone reading doesn't fully grasp what a migraine is yet:
imagine a headache in, say, your right temple. Then, say, Hephaestus, God of the Smiths, decides to smite you by using that very spot as his personal anvil. Oh, but that's not all. Say, in an unlucky and unusual alliance, King of the Gods, Zeus, decides you've further offended him and blesses his hammer with lightning. So, now you've got Hephaestus with a twice-blessed hammer pounding and shocking an already hurting head. Now, say, Apollo decides you're his bitch too (why not), and every time you even come close to cracking your eyes the Sun God enhances that mother a gazillion times causing those rays of light to not only murder that head, but make you ill. Everyone fear that moment you lose it, because that pain you thought couldn't get worse doubles, or triples.
Though I've had them since I was 27, I've only gotten sick twice thusfar in my life - once on a Greyhound bus with nowhere to stop for hours. Oh yeah, fun.
Still, you see where I'm going here. Migraines are not headaches. You can't just "get up, take a tylenol, and move on like a normal person". No. You lie in bed and hold your head, perhaps cry, and hope you can sleep, until it's over.
I've been on migraine prevention meds for ... about a decade now and they've been wearing off over the past couple of years. I'm on something new, plus pain meds to catch one when they start, but, well, if I don't catch it in first bloom... hello Hephaestus!
That was today.
I can understand why it happened. Last night I went to bed fists clenched, teeth clenched, muscles tight. The idea of taking a full-time job, as much as I wanted it, had me in knots. This is why I'm seeing my Cognitive Therapist. This is why I'm doing the workbooks. I know the self-talk isn't rational. Hell, I know I'm valuable and can do it from an outside-looking-in-level, but I'm panicked illogically. I'm panicked in a staying in bed head-under-the covers way.
I'm thinking I'm not ready yet for this kind of responsibility just because of my reaction, though I know it'd likely be healthy for me - if not for the fricking migraines. That's something I can't control.
I know I need to go back to school for a few classes if I want my own business. If I don't get a job I need to find ways to get out, though. Being stuck behind the same walls is no good for anyone's state of mind.
~DC
I'm seeking my Cognitive Therapist, and I've been doing well. Heck, I've been in a good mood and she seems to think I'm a "positive person". I was surprised, but on the whole I believed it. I'd been letting things roll off my back, not taking things so seriously or personally, and not feeling so gloomy.
It's only recently that I'd come to that point after my flashback in August. It took *months* to bounce back, (and I'm not the same whenever I do), but months is less than usual.
My husband's about at the end of his rope with my lack of attention to the house. I dunno. As much as I think housewivery is a thankless job reserved for mothers (okay, raising the next generation is useful) and people who are less than nobody with no more use to humankind. We have a differing opinion of mess, too. He was raised in a white-glove home while I was raised in a Lovecraftian nightmare, so... our versions of "lived in", i.e. "comfortable" don't quite meet up. Has allergies that say they should. He's right, but the fights we've been having on it have shaken my foundation. When that happens I flail.
I started looking for a real job. I started out excited about one, in particular. After all, it was in my wheelhouse and would give me experience in the field in which I plan to spend the rest of my life. I wouldn't be making much, but it's the hours I'm most awake (big plus), and I reeeeally think I'd love it. Suddenly, though, as the arguments went on about my failures at home, I felt like I couldn't do it. I kept thinking I'd forget things. I'd make my referrers look bad. I'd quit in no time.
I had his blessing and his support on the work, so now it was me saying I couldn't - over and over. I was saying I wasn't capable of handling a minimum wage job, as much as I'd enjoy it.
I crawled out of bed at one today, and forced myself to apply because the thing is I know I'd rock at it... if I just gave myself the chance. I normally can convince myself I'll rock at everything but stuff I *loathe*. I wish I had some of that confidence bottled for now, when I'm feeling like this, so I can get out of bed, shower, dress, and maybe pretend normalcy.
~DC
