Tightrope

Balance. My life for the past… Oh, at least 23 years, has been about trying to find,and maintain, some kind of equanimity. And while there have been a lot of highs and lows, I’ve done alright, for the most part, at my search.

I had a really bad 2 year stretch, depression my constant companion, with anxiety keeping me strung tight & riding the line between dread & the feeling of utter numbness.

I’d fake my way through the days, keeping everything light & surface at work… then I’d come home, and static would settle between my ears. I’d sit in my chair, & stare at a wall for hours on end, until finally realizing the sun had set & it was time to sleep. I’d then lie awake for hours, not able to get my brain to shut off that static noise, problems whirling around inside like a tornado, eluding my grasp & stymying any problem-solving abilities I thought I had.

I came very close during those 2 years to just cashing in what few chips I had. 3 times, I almost took that last, long step.

But something always pulled me away from the edge.

My children. My grandchildren. My Beloved Nephew. They held me to this life long enough to claw my way out of the hole I’d sunk into.

And don’t bother asking what held my head under water, because I don’t know.

Depression doesn’t work like that, at least for me.

It seeps in under the door, around the cracks in the windows, like dark fog, slowly obscuring the light.

You don’t notice it at first.

It’s just a light haze, and you can easily brush it aside.

Until it fills the rooms inside your head with maladaptive thoughts, urging you to give up, give in.

You’re not really going to make anything out of yourself, after all, where are you now? What do you have? Who’s on your side, anyway? Everyone talks about you behind your back. You’re so weird, they can’t handle it. You’re too much. You’re not enough. You’re just….. wrong.

And, it’s always easier to believe the bad stuff. An overheard remark… a backhanded compliment/insult. Passive aggressive comments. A glance in the mirror after your anxiety/depression kicks in, and you’re done.

Yep. You’re just not worth it. No one wants you around. Not to keep. Get over yourself, & just do it.

And the strains of Hotel California start playing in your lizard brain, urging you on.

“You can check out any time you like… but you can never leave.”

You walk a tightrope, every day, between barely making those 24 hours, with your heart in your throat, and your chest on fire, your whole body clenched in knots, or slipping from the heights, plummeting to your final stop.

It’s hard to see the light right now. I can feel the fog rolling in again, after having a respite from the blank spaces for a while. I try to drag myself away from that edge, but the land tilts under me, and I slide…..

Being sad – is not the same as Depression. Being sad is for a reason, for a space of time, even if that space of time is a long one. There is a reason for it, and there are ways to work your way out of it. It’s explainable, logical, even expected, at times.

Being Depressed… *sigh* for me, most of the time, there’s absolutely no reason I can point to where the slide starts. No “thing” I can point to that is the catalyst. It just, exists.

I do the talking thing, not with a therapist, which I can’t afford, but with trusted folks in my life.

I do the medication thing, which helps to keep the BigBad from clawing my chest open, but doesn’t “fix” the problem.

Believe me, if there was a fix, I’d take it.

But, you can only keep the fog at bay, sometimes.

Walk the tightrope.

And hope… that the light starts burning off the fog when morning comes.

Learning the Dark

This is a difficult post to begin, so I’m just going to dive right into the middle, and work my way out to the edges from there.

The Morrigan works from the gut, most of the time, anyway. She is instinct & courage. Passion and fire and fury.

I’m learning to listen, here, to what She has to say, because I’m in the middle of a battle…and I need all the help I can get right now.

And being told that my emotions, at least the “darker” ones, need to be abandoned, given up, let go… 

Is bullshit.

I used to repress my emotions.

I used to tamp them down, pushing them into smaller & smaller spaces, because they were deemed “unacceptable”, “socially abnormal” and just plain “dark, morbid, negative & wrong”. 

Until, of course, I’d explode, sending my anger, darkness, whatever you want to call it, by this time magnified exponentially, onto whomever was closest to me at the time, whether they deserved it or not.

I was Vesuvius.

I was Krakatoa.

I was Pele.

I was fire and ash and death, burning the air, scorching oxygen from others’ lungs and melting the ground out from under their stance. 

And, when I was finished, I would feel horrible over the destruction I’d caused, but would have no idea how to fix it, so would run away…leaving the wreckage behind.

So, I grew up.

Learned how to express myself better, with more clarity. (For the most part) Yes, sometimes I still fall down the verbal well when it comes to expressing my feelings to someone, especially someone who knows me from my past, because they have access to those emotional buttons (triggers) that caused me to go off “back then”. 

Started blogging, which really does help me figure out my emotions, & how to verbalize them.

But, back to the darkness.

I…am not a sunshiney kind of person. I’m not a hippie, or a bohemian. I’m not a cheerleader or perky pixie type. (Factoid -I tried my hand at cheerleading in high school, but even to this day, people don’t believe me, & need photographic proof)

If I weren’t almost 47 years old, I’d say I was closer to a Goth or Emo kid, or at least on that end of the spectrum, because of the way I think, speak, act, dress, blah, blah. 

Hell, I’ve said it before, in relation to my poetry… “I was Emo before it was a style”.

I wear black, pretty much all the time.

Not because it’s slimming, but because it helps me blend in to shadows better, and, as I’ve said before “It goes better with my soul”.

I laugh at morbid jokes.

I don’t get scared watching “scary” movies, but instead critique the special effects techniques, laugh at the stupid dialogue, & make fun of the plot choices.

I prefer to sit in the dark, rather than turn on a light.

I sit up late at night, and hate early mornings.

I detest early morning chatter at work, and do everything I can to avoid it.

I need my dark side.

After all…

You cannot see and know the light unless you sit first and accept the darkness.

Morrigan came to me at this time of my life for a reason.

She knows I need my darkness.

She is the Queen there, & can help me navigate my way far better than some of the lighter Goddesses. 

This is not going to be an easy battle.

My darkness is the only thing holding me together right now.

Don’t touch.

Full Dark, No Stars

There is a part of me that dwells in Silence; content, quiet, serene. She is the Watcher, the one who sees – everything, and speaks nothing.  When I sit in that realm of silence, I hear all the whispered words, notice the changes of mood, of feeling, and gather the minutiae into myself. I…observe and learn.

There is a part of me that dwells in Chaos. Frantic scurryings of thought, painful jumbles of words, and the ever-present hisssss of static whispers sounding in my head, too loud to shut out, not loud enough to discern a pattern. When I am in chaos, I tense, not knowing which direction to take, too much input coming in, I panic & shut down, overloaded & shaking. I…exist in constant fear and anxiety.

There is part of me that dwells in Rage. Heat courses through my veins, surging as I fight my way through the trials in front of me. Electricity rockets through my brain, lighting up the centers of pain, sending my voice into overdrive as I announce my anger, vent my frustrations at that which seeks to defeat me. When I dwell in rage, my mouth runs a mile a minute, close behind my brain, almost tripping me into inexcusable words…almost. The warrior takes the reins & lashes out, burning down all in her path. I…am fury and storm and destruction.

There is part of me that dwells in Joy. Simple, thoughtful moments become transcendent through a smile, a word, a gentle touch. Extravagance is unnecessary, for joy is little things…a hand holding mine, a secret smile, a whispered affection, watching the joy of a loved one, giving a gift for no other reason than because I can, and like seeing them happy. When I dwell in joy, I am effervescent, laughing & totally relaxed and tightly wound, all at the same time. I…am sacred.

And there is part of me that dwells in Darkness. She with no name, no face, no voice or meaning. It is the bottomless pit, with no reprieve; the crushing weight of ages presses in without relief. There is no “up” in the black, no down, no sideways, no out. When I dwell in darkness, I am alone, numb to all emotion, cut off from all, even myself. I…am Full Dark, No Stars.

Those who wish to know where I dwell at any moment must know the key to seeing. 

Eyes…and hands.

Watch them, and you’ll know which way the sky turns. 

Times & Anxiety

Anxiety has been at a peak for a while now, and I’ve been working on getting through it. It’s not always easy, & some days, the anxiety overrides everything else, & I’m left clutched in it, and all the side effects that come with it.

There are some ways I’ve found to combat the anxiety, though, & for me, at least… It helps…mostly.

In no particular order:

1. Music.  Different moods require different genres. Some days I’m Enya & Chopin, Halsey, Adele & Sara Bareilles.

Other days, I’m Metallica & Linkin Park, AC/DC, and Ozzy.

And some days, I’m Ruelle, Twenty One Pilots, Sia, Pink, Christina Aguilera, Meghan Trainor & Bollywood music.

Music helps, and sometimes, I hear it without the radio, softly humming in my head, the background noise of the earth, like a singing bowl, just a soft, lilting ringing…

2. Candles. I have a few. Different scents for different moods. Soft ones, light & clean ones, heavy woodsy ones, spicy, energetic ones. Lit, they fill the house with whatever scent I need at the moment, changing the mood of the room…and me.

3.  Sally.

She always knows when I need to snuggle, & she’s right there, in my lap, in my face, purring like a rough motor, & determined to be as close as possible.

4. Hot water.  Whether a bath or shower, there is a calming that falls over me in the hot water. If my water heater was larger, I’d spend hours in the water. 

I also love the rain…something about it, whether the sound, the smell in the air, or watching the drops roll down the window – something just – hits me in the feels, when it rains.

5. Soft fabrics.  I’ve said before that I’m a tactile person. When I’m stressed, or anxious, soft, comfy fabrics, warm, fuzzy clothes & blankets… They work. Curl up in my chair, or snuggle up in bed, & I automatically feel better.

6. Crafts & home renovations.  I almost forgot! Crafting is like meditation for me, taking my attentions & stresses, & turning them to concentration on creating something new from bits & pieces. Home renovations are like that, too. Changing my surroundings to something more my taste, & doing something positive that will make my home a more soothing place. I’ve been painting walls in my home, going from a dirty beige to a clean, crisp, light grey. Knowing that I’m doing these things independently, accomplishing more every time I pick up the roller & brushes, the craft supplies, makes me feel good.  And the results show that I am making strides in changing my world & life for the better.

First time trying to post a home video…

And the cat you hear crying in the background? Chloe…OnlySon’s minion, trying to videobomb me…sheesh.

These methods don’t always work, but they do help most of the time. And when they don’t…

I deal.

Because I know that Time passes, & eventually… So does the anxiety.

Note to Self

I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff.

Especially when it’s useless stuff.

But lately, I’ve been writing a lot of notes to self, instead. 

Some of them, are very helpful, seeing as how I’m pretty much doin’ things on my own now.

Like….

* Make sure you write down the size of furnace filters we need.  You only have one left.  You’re gonna need more in about a month.  Don’t forget, or the furnace starts to whistle like a teapot.  Teapot whistling is bad.

* Plug in all the new phones…. and don’t forget to unplug them tomorrow.  Service is scheduled to start up on Tuesday.  Make sure you carry both phones on Tuesday.  You can’t be without a phone for a whole day, now that you’re basically a single parent.  Phoneless is bad.

And then… there’s the other stuff.  Stuff I remember, or that simply rattle around in my brain, until I get a logical answer to questions I’m asking myself…. and they’re not all easy questions, nor do I know if I’m going to find answers, rational or otherwise.  Because the questions are more about emotions, and that’s not logical, or rational, at all.

*  Why am I so bothered that “he” doesn’t show more emotion over the divorce?  He’s been pleasant, too much so, and it’s got me confused, and angry.  I know that I wanted the divorce to be amicable, and I don’t want to fight with him anymore, nor do I want to reconcile.  His coldness, and lack of affection, was one of the reasons why I decided I couldn’t stay in the marriage anymore, anyway.  Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s been 14 years of my life.  And now… it’s just…. poof.  Or maybe, I just want some sign of feeling, some regret.  Some sense that I meant something.

*  I’ve been having such vivid dreams, the last few nights.  It’s been a long time since they were this real and colorful.  And they’re not nightmares.  This means something.  This means…. that I’m starting to open up again.  I’m not all bound up inside, like I was, repressing everything.  Even though some of the dreams have been strange, like the “vampire slaying” dream… I was with old friends, working toward slaying demons.  Sounds like exactly what I’ve been working on, only with less pointy teeth, and more internal psychobabble.

*  Why have I fallen so far behind on reading others’ blogs?  Why have I stopped socializing?  I think, maybe, it’s because I don’t like putting my problems on others.  I keep telling people that “I’m fine”.  I’m not, but I’ve always hated asking for help, for any reason.  I need to work on that.  I also need to stay in contact with others, on purpose, until I get to the point where I don’t have to think about it, I just do it.  I’ve just been so tired, and when I’m exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, I just can’t summon the will to work at it.  I’m going to work at it anyway.

*  Why have I stopped working on my crafts?  I have a tree I started, another wire tree, and I put it up and left it.  I know that I’ve been busy, but working on my craft projects makes me happy, and I put that away.  I have to stop putting away that which makes me happy.

Yeah, it’s time to start working on the book again, too.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot… storyline and plot, characters and focus.  Focus.  I need more of that.  Can I order that online??

Note to Self:  Start living your life again.  It’s time.

Phriday Philosophy-Waking the Dreamer

I’ve been dreaming about mirrors lately.  Oddly enough, the rooms that I walk through are covered floor to ceiling in sliding mirrors, but I don’t see my own reflection in any of them.  As though I’m not really there, or as if I’m looking through someone else’s eyes.

So, being the research geek that I am, as well as being a pagan that sets a lot of store by the internal psychological meaning behind dreams, I went and looked up what it could mean, on a dream interpretation site.

Here’s what I found:

“Mirror To dream of your own reflection in the mirror, suggests that you are pondering thoughts about your inner self. The reflection in the mirror is how you perceive yourself or how you want others to see you. You may be contemplating on strengthening and changing aspects of your character. 

To see a fogged mirror in your dream, signifies a hazy concept of who you are and confusion in your life goals. You are lacking clarity and purpose and questioning your self-identity.

Reflection To see your reflection in your dream, represents your true self; it is time to look within. The reflection may highlight both your flaws and positive attributes. Learn from your flaws and how to improve them. At the same time, appreciate your good qualities. Alternatively, your reflection indicates how you want others to perceive you.

If you see a strange figure or something other than your own reflection, then it suggests that you are undergoing some identity crisis. You are not sure about who you are anymore.”

Basically, then, I’m being told that I’m cracked, and having an identity crisis, and I’m not sure how I want others to perceive me, with a sense of being watched, while I look for clarity and purpose.

Phew.

For a minute there, I thought I was going to find out I was in real trouble!

Actually, I know this stuff, that I’m searching for something, looking for a piece of my identity, one that I thought I had a pretty good grasp on. It slipped through my fingers while I was busy looking the other way, and forgot that I had some momentum going.  I put down what I was working on, to catch up with other things, and lost the groove I’d hit.

I’ve also been working on family issues that have me pretty tied up in knots.  Not because of obvious verbal sparring, but because in my family, it’s all done around corners, in undertones, posed in inuendo and sideways cracks that have been presented as backhanded humor.

BUT, that’s not the topic of the day.

The topic of the day is Dreams – and Interpretations.

Yeah, I believe that dreams are our brain’s way of working out issues while we sleep.  I also believe that we can get messages from other sources while we dream.  Including, but not limited to, Deity, and loved ones that have passed on. 

(There are times when I really wish I had stayed with my psychology major in college, and then I remember that… oh, yeah, they would’ve hated me, cause I mix science with magick and paganism) 

Ah well, it works for me. 

90% of my dreams I feel are mostly the GIGO effect.  Garbage in – Garbage out.  It’s the flotsam and jetsam of the day’s occurrences all glommed together in a story, or in simple flashes, that flit through my brain and don’t have anywhere to stick.  They don’t mean anything, it’s just my mind’s way of filing stuff away. 

Imagine a large warehouse, full of filing cabinets.  Rows and rows of them, but no people.  Simple paper airplanes, fluttery butterflies, swooping small birds,  and little dark thunder-boomer clouds hover in the air above the filing cabinets, and drops of ideas and pictures, flowers and parachutes, errant thoughts- fall into the open drawers of the cabinets.  Drawers open and close by themselves, as the drops fall in.  Making a soft clattering noise, rather like rain on a metal roof.  This is my dreaming brain.

But then there are the vivid dreams.  The full, technicolor, scene by scene, movie length visions – that feel so real.  When I wake up, I’m not quite sure where I am, because I’m still experiencing the tail end of the dream, and wishing I could get back into it, or shake it off completely, depending on the tone and quality of the dream/nightmare. 

These are not GIGO.

These are messages, and I have to figure out what it means for me, or it gnaws at me for days, until I either have the dream again, or I research it, or work it out in my head and heart, so that I can understand it. 

I think I almost have this one worked out, after writing this post.  It helps me to put my ideas down, this place is my sounding board.  Allowing me to bounce the ideas around, get them down, and out of my head.  When I can see them laid out before me, it’s easier to understand.

A friend and I talked about seeing things in the “Gestalt” tonight.  It means seeing the picture as a whole, not as the sum of its parts.  And as I’m writing this, the Gestalt is becoming clearer and clearer, and I’m not just looking at mirrors.

The Dreamer is beginning to wake.  Just a few more minutes, please? And then I’ll get up, promise.