I realize that I have been absent for a week….it was however not intentional. between Dr’s appointments and books releasing….I just brain fogged. Though I did have a nice surprise. went to the Dr because I have a sinus infection and the check in notes acknowledged that I have fibromyalgia and Autism. both of them previous doctors were not willing to diagnose me with. though other doctors had? I am sure that they are correct and having a dr agree just feels so good.
I should be doing the daily thing again through November but I don’t think I’ll be doing the normal week posts as I am doing 2 pad challenges and trying to do the Fae 50k.
I am fifty years old. I have had a repetitive dream for as long as I can remember. at least 40 plus years. I am terrible at dream interpretation and I don’t know if I even want it completely interpreted. It now feels like a journey I have finished. Let me explain by telling you that dream first and then I will fill the remaining details in. This is not fiction though I suppose it could be an interesting read. This is the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.
I start the dream in the same place. I always know that I am dreaming, but I am unbothered by that fact. I am on the third floor of a three story house and I have been here before. I am comfortable here. Before me is three doors and a staircase down. I start exploring the first door. I am never alone. the people change, no one stays with me for long at this point. I know everyone, they are people that I have met or will meet in my life. Everyone I have ever cared about was in the dream – some before I ever met them. It takes me a full day to explore each door. The rooms are laid out with symbols of different aspects of the life I have lived. (in example…one room is a gorgeous library that has decor resembling a roma’s wagon, another one is a beautiful bedroom with a canopy bed and carved decor – ivory elephants, onyx roses, wooden trees.) Three rooms, each room takes a full day to explore. so it takes me three days to reach the stairs.
I continue the same pattern on the second floor. Again three doors and a staircase going down. I am starting to see outside at this point and I feel the urge to rush, though I do not. I want to be outside but I am intrigued with the house. As I reach the bottom of the second stairs I am in the middle of the largest kitchen I have ever seen. the smells are so interesting and I feel like I should linger but it causes anxiety to stay. The companions are still there but they are like a radio left playing…background noise. I am focused on the door to the outside. I can clearly see the yard now but I know that I will not reach it. The moment my hand touches the doorknob I wake up.
I have sought dream interpretation before because of the frequency and vivid nature of the dream. Now I know how it ends, sort of.
I went to bed yesterday and I immediately had a night terror.
So I sat up and spent a few hours trying to get my head back together. When exhaustion finally consumed me and I simply couldn’t hold my head up anymore I tried again.
This time I knew I was in the same dream but I was not in the house. I was behind it. The yard had a rusted swingset covered in thick webs. The yard was overgrown and I could see things in the grass. I didn’t spend time trying to figure out what. I still had compainions. We walked carefully around the house. There was only one door into the house and when I started the dream I was staring at it. I had always assumed that it faced the driveway. it did not. after I got around the house there was a dirt driveway that went out as far as I could see. I started walking down the driveway and I woke up. For the first time feeling like I finished the dream.
Now, I know it doesn’t seem like that is the end of the story but I understand it. sometimes the journey is not supposed to end. Sometimes it is more about the journey than it is about either end.
I find myself introspective a lot more lately. I am going through my computer files and transferring stuff from my phone. I have been trying to clean up the duplicates and sort and organize it.
I am finding myself amazed by the sheer volume of files. They are pictures of my poetry and art I have made. I wish I could say that I see the progress in my art. It seems like I either draw or create art beautifully or like a brain dead kindergartener. There’s no middle line apparently.
I have been fighting a wound on my foot since October and now that it is healed I am allowed to do stuff. So I looked at the mess that my personal space has become because I was not allowed to be on my feet and I was so overwhelmed I didn’t know where to start.
I just sat down and went to pieces because I was too uncomfortable and overwhelmed to get anything done. I told my kid that. He kinda seems to be smarter than I am most of the time anymore, I swear. He just looks at me and says he is planning a yard sale. why not sort through the boxes beside the desk for stuff to toss to the sale? He literally just gave me a starting point. I did the boxes and I stopped there for the night. The next day I went through a corner that had been catching my craft supplies thinking it would be a small step forward and I have apparently done too much. My body doesn’t bother to tell me that I should slow down anymore …it just quits and I hurt for the next few days.
So I have been forced to go back to doing nothing. I hate that. So I am cleaning up my files and quietly trying to feel better about what I did get done instead of feeling like I failed because I pushed my self too much.
I need to find a way to stay out of my own head. it’s dark in there and sometimes it is terrifying to lose the light.
I have never had great self esteem. I honestly do not see myself with the eyes others have. And you know what? That is perfectly fine. I struggle with where I fit in society. Perfectionism and imposter syndrome war for control of my life. But then there is all I am capable of.
I can make candles. I can make lovely jewelry. I make resin art. I paint. I sketch. I do digital art. I do watercolor art and other multimedia art. I code in c++. I sew. I crotchet. I garden. I bake. I cook. I edit. I write poetry. I write stories. I do amateur photography. I have random bits of useless knowledge in my head. I help people. I do cover design. and sometimes I am even a decent person.
in the social life I struggle with interacting and being friends. I don’t see the beauty of my own body but I am able to see the intelligence and kindness within.
so maybe it’s just me over thinking what self esteem really means.
Though I got other votes the majority seem to want Rising Madness. I am literally 3 poems away from completing Graphic Disturbances. As I am currently covered over at Fae Corps Publishing it will probably be July before I am capable of releasing it.
I Will be sure to let you know when I have more information about the release.
okay first thing I am doing Fae Corps Publishing’s MerMay challenge. This means I will be continuing to post daily for the month of May. That means I will be still on hiatus for the daily normal posts.
Second, I am paying for the blog to allow the use of more images here. it will adjust the website for my blog page slightly. That should take effect on the third.
I hope you enjoy the art.
I may try to post some poetry just to keep my blog somewhat writing based. lol
So I normally do a small break of sorts during two months of the year from my normal posts. April and November. The reason for this is I am posting daily poetry and the other posts are just a bit much to add on. I will return to the weekly posts in May (Maybe. I am considering doing mermay this year. Which would mean an art post daily instead via instagram links.) Regardless there will be content, just not the Same posts I usually do.
To be honest I did not know what to say this week.
How often can you complain about the same thing before even you start to see it as just whining? And that is often the thing with chronic illness…we end up feeling like we are whining. No one wants to hear that it hurts for the millionth time. We can’t do anything that remotely feels useful.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone is interested in the dribble I do have to say. Then I think about it and realize that it doesn’t matter. I still need to speak my truth. I still have to get up and fight every day. Giving up is not in the cards.
So, Though I really didn’t know what to say today…I wanted to at the very least say HI. I Exist!
I keep meaning to post my word counts for the day on my Facebook account. I update them as I write anything for my own personal ability to keep track of where I am and I mean to post it. I move on to other things that I have to do and I forget to go back more often than not.
And the way I have my work listed may end up making people confused. Things only stay on the list until they are done. Then the list occasionally will not sync. so I get random mistakes in it as to how much is in a poetry volume. Or I have a notification on the top saying that it has a conflict from another version.
I love the feeling of accomplishment I feel when I do share the word counts. it feels like I am saying hey I am making progress. Unfortunately I mostly end up feeling ashamed because I forgot to post it.
I think that’s one of the main problems with juggling so much. The dropped balls become shame. I try to make sure that I only drop the ones that will bounce. I might be capable of catching them and then I can get them in the next pass.
Pattimouse 