jagged blurs

Managing dwindling meds in a countdown to appointment. Sliding down off gabapentin as quickly as safety precautions will allow in order to stretch it as long as possible. Fun times, nothing like missing something that drastic over holidays. Fortunately, it's no longer a pain management problem since the shots and therapy, but it's definitely a behavior management problem.

Hopefully the schisms won't get any worse than this. Gotta even out sometime, right. Not like I stopped cold turkey.

and this is why I blog

Per my last post, my week (month, entire autumn...) has felt like being a yo-yo on a wild roller coaster. Inside my head, that is. Outside my head, all is running smoothly, and I can't feel that. At all. It's like living in two worlds at the same time. Two parallel lives. I watch the real world on a TV set in my mind while I feel earthquakes rip around my head, fragmenting my spacetime. It begs a question- How do you hang on to anything if you can't even tell what is real? *

{Answer- You define for yourself what is real. We all have the power to create and recreate reality.

Just because I understand the mechanisms behind my anguishes and joys doesn't mean I get to get off this ride. Just because it feels one way doesn't mean it's not another and just because I'm mixed up doesn't mean anything is wrong.





And I'm good with that. I'm not sure how and why, but I still feel very lucky to still be here despite how it feels so mixed up in my head. Figuring out the difference between not feeling anything and overfeeling the slightest innuendo is behind me now, I think. I mean, I know it'll keep happening because of sloshy brain chemicals, but at least I'm learning when and how far to pull back when I'm like this.










I had this sitting in edit all day, closed. I just got back to it and was very surprised to see "Mom" written on the very top line.

So you tell me- remote access? QAI? My mom making contact from beyond the grave? Or another part of me I'm not aware of trying to get my attention?

Because that was an extraordinarily weird typo magically showing up, almost like the beginning of a letter.

think beyond connecting the dots

Several decades ago, I challenged my mother to step outside of her faith to consider other ways of seeing things. I argued that faith out of fear isn't really faith, and that we don't lose what we believe just because we allow ourselves to see from another point of view.

A few years later, I asked a college professor of old testament prophets whether we are not all God incarnate, if we actually apply what prophets implied here and there, and he said perhaps I was a prophet myself and walked away. I never could tell if he was being sarcastic.

I found myself going through outrageous synchronicties and started researching everything I could get my hands on, science theories, philosophies, religions, hauntings, metaphysics, time and reality speculations, near death experiences, anything and everything that my upbringing had never really questioned or allowed to question.

After that, I started telling others that we are never alone, that we are here for reasons we don't remember, that we might even be each other and not even know it, making kindness a kind of logic so that we can become the heroes and loves that we long for and can't seem to find. We are what we are looking for.

All my life I've had dreams of being shown all kinds of things, and I have felt unnaturally stuck in a singular place and time. Who I am in this body started out as arbitrary info, and what I do in this life is done through a restricted point of view as a physical being, whether I like it or not.

Over the last several years I've been talking about waking up and being able to see beyond the restrictions I live in this body in this life in the circumstances around me. I've been both frustrated at others still asleep and very excited about seeing so much more now.

The coolest part has been discovering that there are millions of others experiencing the same thing I have, all their lives.




One of the misconceptions I see among waves of wakers on the medias is the idea that waking up shrugs off all our hard stuff and we find our bliss. I don't think it's possible to wake up all at once like that, and our tiny feeble ways on this weeping world limit how much we can take. One can be cognitively awake long before becoming emotionally awake and more in tune. If anything, all the bits of waking up I've done over the years, along with the private joys came harder challenges, and I reached a place where going back to sleep was impossible. Being stuck awake with no one to talk to can be rough, and you really do go it alone, as they say. What you begin to know in your heart doesn't match the way life grinds you around, and you either find ways to make the hard choices for change, or you let it swallow you back up asleep. From what I can tell, you don't really get to just wake back up when you feel like it. You ride it out and learn to fly into the wind every chance you get or you miss it.

So don't despair. If you feel the waking up, and the world is pulling back at you and everything hurts inside and out, take heart. Without the pain, we sit there, like turtles sunning on a log. Without the hunger for more, we bask in the warm shallows even if death and destruction are upon us unheeded. Waking up is how we change the world around us, bit by bit, moment by moment, heart by heart.

It feels hard because it is. It takes awhile because of how our point of view works in this world in these bodies. But you are not alone. I've been saying for years on my blogs, you are not alone. We're here waking up, too. And I know exactly what it feels like being yanked up and down and all around by brain chemicals. It's just something we're riding out while we do this life, and sometimes it's exactly what we need when we arrive to the right place at the right time.

pinkyblue

I apologized to my brother today for not being there. He was sweet about it. I don't think I can ever explain what living in two worlds is like. Coexisting as both a wimp and a jerk is my curse in this life, I guess. I've stopped giving executive function over to one or the other and just own it nowadays. Well, not like I'm personally the top of heap in here, but at least I know what I'm apologizing for now.

I reeled home from seeing my psychologist, unable to eat all day long. Good chat, too real for my body, I guess.

To be explicitly honest, what I'm reeling back from is a model of long-practiced interaction, a not-me me. When I let that kick in, everything else gets locked down on hold. Interpersonal interaction is the hardest thing I do, and funneling all of my thinking, organized via blogging over time, through a contrived more pleasant personality is exhausting. Add the weight of the emotional content and yes, I literally reeled once that personality released its grip on me. I was there, I was present, I was part of, and I remember, but that was not me.

That was a doll.

Jacky is in charge of the dolls. Took years of practice.

nerves

On the lighter side of perspectives and contexts, this is my natural hair. I'm 58. This is one of those things I'm not sure what to make of, so I normally ignore and not think. I'm probably the least vain person I know, lacking the self awareness others sometimes seem consumed with, but I do have to admit, it's comforting. I've been so crazy busy last few months that I've rarely had my hair down from a ponytail.

Was kinda bouncing off Scott about nerves, like how tomorrow seeing psychologist again kinda feels like when I was in college coming up on a class presentation. I don't have the usual kind of jitters about public speaking, but I literally never talked about myself to anyone till I starting seeing 'psyche guy' 12 years ago, so after 3 months off and all this horrible stress, I feel like a canon about to go off and I'm wanting to be more focused than using him as a target of my stress explosion. I sometimes wonder how he's been so patient with me.

I think my favorite thing about our Christmas tree this year is that it's so horribly ugly that it would drive my dad bonkers. Nothing ruins the joy of tree trimming like not perfectly spacing out every single speck of decor, right. For a guy who refused to get involved with Christmas, he certainly took over the tree.

And there you go. My house-tree-person came full circle.

patience is a grueling virtue

Many years ago my dad asked me not to publish some things out of respect while my mom was still alive. After she died ten years ago, I decided to respect my dad and not publish those things until he died, as well.

I have been extremely patient.

Family secrets are terrible burdens. Truths can send ripples across hundreds, even thousands of miles.

The biggest secrets are the strangest of all. Keeping them destroys, telling them destroys. Not sure destruction of those kinds of secrets is a bad thing, but the people learning them are still messed up enough not to understand. We all know how fragile things can be on holidays. One wrong ill-timed 'joke' can send a holiday reeling over a cliff.

I've had a lot of time to think things through, sift things down, assess and evaluate, learn the differences between public pettiness and actual hidden toxicity, and exactly why both truth and forgiveness are important.

It's complicated.

My dad knew her dad. The revelation that blew me over last week left me abandoned in a desert with occasional tumbleweeds blowing by. I remember he said something. Was I 12? 14? What was it he said, and why did that memory scream through my brain without letting me have the words with it?

My dad said something to me at one point in my life that sealed my decision to burn a box at another point in my life.

I'm dangling like an old kite on a lonely wire strung across a desert watching a tumbleweed roll by once in awhile.

Interesting visual, given where that was said. And a communication line I can't access.

Something about my dad has sent me spiraling through time cutting out vital parts of my memories, and the trail of clues I've left myself across blogs over the years now glow like neon when I look back.

Experiencing life itself is so metaphorical. Are we sure we're even really here doing this? It's like we are our own movies we're watching.

in our minds together

3 more days till I see my psychologist.

Trying to keep my mind focused in between continuing chores, babysitting, and more waiting.

What is reality? What I make of it. But it feels like being caught in stickiness.

I imagine my dad is tired of it taking so long.