Tag: dreams

Thinking Instead of Doing

I’ve spent weeks trying to figure out what to write, when to write it and just what kinds of things I wanted to say now and in the future. I thought so much that I talked myself out of all of it.

At first, I was going to write about my amazement that I was able to get seedlings started for a garden. If even a fraction of the starters survive, there’s going to be so many tomatoes, peppers and spaghetti squash that I’m not going to have any ideas what to do with them. We also want to plant onions, radishes, some lettuces and do what we can to eventually grow some indoors so that we can have fresh produce year round. That’s the end goal anyway.

Once I abandoned that plan, I thought some more about what kinds of things I wanted to write about. I drew a blank. My friend has actively pointed out almost daily that I haven’t written. He uses my writing as a better insight into my mind and where I’m at since I don’t express myself to others in any real way. I still can’t hold a job, which is distressing. I can’t seem to get into doctors until my insurance mess clears up, and while I’m on an upswing with my moods- it doesn’t take much to actually get me down. But I’ve been able to pull myself back out of it quicker. I know a lot of the things I’m taking issue with are on me, and say more about me than it does others. I can live with that, even if it means I get told I’m too sensitive and I should know by now that someone is joking.

I wanted to write about some of the things I’m trying to do to express myself more, whether its crafts or speaking out about things I want to do or try. But most of the time those things fall flat before I start them, or fall on deaf ears.

There are so many more things I wanted to write about, but then I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the words or when I did find the words they were haphazard and callous, or angry and bitter, or worst yet, apathetic. I didn’t care if I wrote, I didn’t even sign in for the better part of a month. For something that I wanted to do, I couldn’t make myself do it. That’s when I knew I had to take a step back, reevaluate my perspectives and expectations.

So I say again I’m going to try to do better, but not stress myself out or work myself up about if I write. I want to find more ways to live in the moment instead, even if it means not writing down what happened when. I want to post some of my cooking trials, and some of my sewing- if and when I get around to doing them some more. At least Spring is here, and there’s a sense of renewal all around. I’ll take that in stride and know there’s something else new around the corner to explore.

More Anxiety Dreams

These dreams keep coming back…only they’re starting to get worse. I’m almost always afraid to go to sleep because I know the dreams will happen. Nothing I’ve tried has helped to drive it away. Calming teas, meditation, even staying up so I’m so exhausted…none of it has worked so far.

Dreams have morphed a little from last time I wrote about them. There’s still no ending to them. There’s just a lot more confusion. A lot more being lost in caves. More conversation too, but I never remember what was talked about. I can remember the scenery, the time of day, the way dream me felt but not the important thing. It’s disheartening.

I’ve only been getting an hour or two at a time of sleep. I wake up confused and afraid. I can’t catch my breath sometimes afterwards. I know my subconscious is trying to tell me something, I just don’t know what the hell that is.

So I sit here awake, into the early morning hours. Watching and waiting as the world passes me by. Waiting for sleep to take control and the nightmares to come. I just want a few days of reprieve. Just to get a solid 4 hours of sleep without being startled awake before this drives me crazy.

Kindness is one of the few gifts anyone can give without ever having to struggle to repay. It’s something we should all be giving a little more freely in times like these.

~T

Anxiety and Battling My Dreams

My anxiety has been astronomically high lately. I’m on edge about jobs, living spaces, the future, the past, and everything in between. My familial tremors in my arms have been worse the last few days than they have been in quite a while. They are almost at the rate/duration when I was diagnosed with them. Are they related to my anxiety/depression/stress? No idea- my neurologist at the time said to just have a drink when one started, and that should take care of it. My family is full of functional and not so functional alcoholics. My grandparents owned a bar at one point, one of my uncles ultimately died from his drinking. That’s not advice a doctor should give so lightly. So I just deal with them as they come. It only slows down my typing, makes it hard to chop/cut things up at times but otherwise, it’s just a nuisance. But it makes me self-conscious. I still don’t want to be the freak who can’t always control my limbs.

So as I get ready to start a lot of new things, I know I can’t hide it forever. I know coworkers will see and ask questions. That brings a whole new level of anxiety. I don’t like being the center of attention or put on the spot about something that’s happening to me. That anxiety creeps into everything. Is moving really such a good idea? Are you sure that this is the area you want to be in for a little while? You claim to want stable but have you looked at yourself in the mirror- the only thing stable about yourself is the weight you are and the predictability of the fact you’re going to get hurt again one way or the other.

I try to keep myself together and strong for the people around me. But the mask is slipping. I don’t know how much longer I can be like this. I’ll keep trying until it either weighs me down to where I can’t do it anymore or until the chaos passes and things get better.

I keep dreaming that I’m falling into a dark, wet pit. In that pit is a monster I can’t see. I only hear it.  It occasionally whispers menacingly at me in a language I don’t understand but from the tone, it makes me scared. I yell for help, hoping someone will walk by and hear my pleas, clawing at the dirt and root bound walls.  I scream until my throat is raw, and no sounds come out. Suddenly, there’s the sound of something being dragged through the muck and water, before something tosses the large rectangular box at my feet. 

The creature snarls, “get in the box” before kicking the lid off at me. I find a renewal of my voice and scream some more as the muddy water splashes onto me, covering me in more filth. The creature sighs, “Why do the pretty one’s struggle?”

My vision goes black, and I wake up panicked in the box. I beat on it with my fists, and kick with my feet. It doesn’t budge. The thuds of my arms and legs making contact are the only sounds I hear. The top end of the box lifts slightly, as I began to get drug through this hell to god knows where.  I know there’s no airflow into the box, so if I can’t get out soon I’ll just be dying one way or the other. I try to calm myself, without taking deep breaths. I don’t know how long I’m being dragged through this place. It seems to go on and on. And that part of my dream just goes and never seems to end. 

 

Now I have no idea what to make of my dreams, let alone the other things my brain throws at me. All I know is if I go the rest of my life without having that dream again, it’ll be too soon. The only problem with that thought? I’ve had it the last 4 nights in a row.

Maybe tonight’s dreams will be better. And if they aren’t there’s always some kind of hope out there right?

~T