Home > Life or something like it > An Admission to a Morning Reaffirmation

An Admission to a Morning Reaffirmation


Entry 04/10/2012 01:39:51 PM – Mentat 639

Laundry has come and gone, everything’s folded, put away, sorted and the weather’s just warm enough for the moment for me to appreciate and enjoy having the windows open. The downside of this is the noise of traffic and shitty music being played full blast from cars at the car wash because heaven forbid they have to listen to the loud and whistling sound of industrial-strength vacuums for so much as three minutes… And that heaven forbid that they realize that in spite of that corner being commercial, everywhere else around that corner is residential… Not that I’m bitter, frustrated or annoyed about listening to crappy rap and shittier urban music or anything. *smirks and takes a deep breath* But at least I have a good pair of earbuds that can drown out the crap outside my window *putting them on* and off I go to listen to something else other than traffic and urban crap.

On a side note to this before I start cutting through some of the things that I’ve been thinking about today — it’s pretty interesting what sort of airflow goes on in this house. I had my door open for most of the morning (and the start of the afternoon), and there was a continual easterly wind cutting through my room on it’s way to the kitchen (and out the windows I opened there). I had to shut the door because two of the members of the Mad Cat Committee™ have decided they’re sick of their dry food and are doing everything to get my attention to giving them (the last can) of their wet. So I scooted Whiskey (and Wilma though she’s not a fan of wet food at all) out of the room so that I had a little bit of personal time without being constantly clawed at and jumped on so that I can feed him. Anyway, the instant I shut the door, the constant breeze stopped. I’ll open it later when the cats stop annoying me to get my attention to feeding them, but at least the good thing is that everything on my desk isn’t trying to blow its way into the kitchen because the door’s open.

Since my last entry my sleep patterns have been pretty much wrecked. Seems that I’ll get about 4 hours of sleep and then I’ll wake up suddenly, stay up for 1 – 2 hours before I sleep for another 2 – 4 hours. At first I thought it was because of the one beer that I’ve had a couple of those nights, but sitting here and writing this entry, I think it might be because I’m anxious over the thought that I might have more night terrors. After all, I tend to dream of things in threes — and when I was having night terrors it was in threes and sixes. *knocks on wood* Last night was the first night in the last 5 days that I actually fell right back to sleep after waking up — so maybe I’m just being over-dramatic over the one instance. Then again I haven’t been watching much of Emmerdale the last week — and it may be that I’m not dredging up the past through the similarities of that story line. In either case, I’m quite relieved.

On the flip side though I’ve been having some pretty vivid dreams and none of the usual sort that I’m famous for. Yes, that means I haven’t dreamed of aliens invading the planet, weird extraterrestrial creatures taking possession of people, X-Files like conspiracy theory type dreams… Heh, I haven’t even had the usual thoroughfare of science-fiction type dreams involving space, spaceships, etc. If anything, I’ve had a couple of whacky dreams about haunted houses (nothing scary about them, just the usual reoccurring poltergeists making their presence known), but the majority of them are day-to-day type life involving work, travel, putting around the city for various reasons (errands, meeting people I haven’t a clue who they are — though in the dreams they’re close friends, etc.). The best (and most frustrating) dream that I had was over the weekend was the one that involved me dating someone. I remember in the dream that he was taller than I am (I think the height requirement of 6’4″ (1.93 m) I often joke about when I’m online) and it turned out toward the end of the dream I found out he was 2 decades younger than me. What made it more interesting is that it was one of the nights that I woke up in the middle of, and that when I finally did get back to sleep about 2 hours later, the dream continued on where I had left out of it. Quite the rarity for the likes of me as I’m not one to continue dreams between sleeps. In fact, I think the last time I did this was sometime in 2004 that’s how rare it is for the likes of me.

I had an interesting episode of ADD the other day when going through my spam box on WordPress account. Someone read my last journal entry and like a person seeing the back end of an elephant through a knothole thought that they were seeing the whole picture. So they dropped a note that was semi-nonsensical (like it was typed up by a translator bot), but was pointing to a site on depression and the symptoms of depression. I deleted the message with extreme prejudice, but that didn’t mean I didn’t end up with it getting stuck in my head and ending up in the whirlpool of noise that happens when it hits me in the wrong way. It took a long, hot shower to get untorqued enough to sort out precisely what I wanted to say without coming off as a raving nutter on the defensive…

The thing is… I understand where that sort of message would come from. It’s a human being’s inherent need that when they think they see the same signs they had experience that when they had recovered from — in this case depression — they help any and all that cross their path. Lord knows, I’ve done the same thing once or twice (and more) along the way. It took a while after the shower and sitting at the laundry (reading and trying to write this entry without being on the offensive about it).

The fact is, I’ve been depressed three times in my life. The first was when I was abducted by my father when I was 13 and spent a summer hiding at my aunt’s camper-home on the Cape. The second time was after Tommy’s death (and the subsequent chain of events that occurred after that when I got home didn’t help matters any either), and the third time was the time after Rick and I broke up (and that one took a hell of a lot of time to get over. Almost as much time recovering as it was actually being in the relationship). In the end though, I’ve recovered. I got over it. I’ve moved forward. And while I appreciate that someone out there interpreted my last entry as the signs, I’m also going to share the reaffirmation I go through every morning when I wake up and wait patiently for the water to warm up for my shower.

I am a realist. I can sometimes come off as a cynic in public because I am naturally cautious and defensive around people I don’t know, but at the same time I am also an optimist in private (among friends and when I am with someone). I believe that in every life there are equal amounts of good and bad, selfishness and selflessness, of happy times and sad times, and even of elation and depression. I am and always have been of the mind that you cannot truly appreciate the good without experiencing the bad.

I create balance based on what I had been taught as a child. I have a rare form of hypoglycemia — one that took the doctors almost 3 years of my life to figure out. In that time the doctors taught my family that I shouldn’t be allowed to feel any strong emotion for a long period of time because in doing so would mean a convulsion or seizure. If a cried for too long, they would give me a candy bar to cheer me up. If I were too cheery, they would disappoint me somehow. It took me years to change the almost manic way I was taught and brought this balance into my life (and being), but after that — I see no reason to change it. It is as much a part of me as the fact that I’m left-handed, or gay, or have an extremely long memory for things in my life.

My journal is me. And that means it contains good times and bad times. Of happiness and joy as well as sadness and sorrow. It is the place I come to when I need to work the chaos and flotsam going on in my head and give it order and direction. Sometimes it’s for me to remember something to reflect on later (and much later). Or simply a marker for me to remember something that I feel I might forget. Those thoughts might be delusionally happy, or it might even come off as depressively sad but that does not mean I myself an delusional nor depressed. It is merely an external source of the thing we humans tend to do in our heads when we make decisions on something… We humans take on a third person perspective when talking to self. My journal is that third person perspective I’ve used since I’ve 17 when I can’t field it all in my head myself.

I know as a realist that things cannot change overnight in spite of people’s wants and desires that change can happen overnight and stay in place permanently from that moment of self-realization. I know from experience in writing a journal since I was 17 that when looking back at something contained within them — change can more often times than naught take months to happen. But change does happen even if we human beings are often too short-sighted for our own good to seeing the change happen. Sometimes that change is for the better. Sometimes it’s not. The only way we can know for sure is to wait, and watch and not pass quick judgments on what we see through that knothole…

What I call — the now.

And that is one reaffirmation I go through in the morning when I wake up. I might not use all the words that I just used; but all of the feelings associated to those words are there. And I see them staring back at me in the mirror every morning. And at the end of that moment when I jump into the shower to start my routine… I feel balanced.

Until the next time.

%d bloggers like this: