Running over Puppies

My dreams have been getting more and more interesting lately.  At this point, I'm ceasing respond to them like nightmares and have begun dissecting them with an intrigued but distant scientific perspective. I don't put much stock into the "supernatural" nature of dreams or think by "divining their meaning" you come one step closer to enlightenment.  I do think it's a nifty tool to figure out what your brain chews on while you're unconscious.  Viewing common themes in your life, difficulties, internal struggles, etc... through the tools of a highly personal and symbolic mini movie sometimes allows you to gain some greater insight into yourself simply because you look at it from a different angle.

So, for instance, I dream of being behind the wheel of a car that has NO BRAKES on icy dark roads almost hitting a shaking tiny puppy in the middle of the road over and over and over again - missing it  only by the skin of the tires. I habitually got lost in this dream, sliding out of control and wandering around in circles, not able to reach my destination. 

While the dream wasn't super *pleasant* to experience, waking up, I thought - hrm....interesting. Through the symbolic lens of the dream meshed with my own personal stresses lately, I see an interpretation - I obviously don't feel in control of where I'm going in my life.  I'm definitely striving towards a milestone I don't feel I'm making much progress in obtaining.
I was chatting about this with a couple of friends of mine one night before getting my geeky gamer thing going.  One of them suggested that I was on the brink of a self-revelation, but I'm stymied.  Which I kinda feel like is true.  With all this hemming and hawing and analyzing and anxiety and adjustment, I feel like I'm missing something obvious.

Which, ironically was illustrated in game that evening quite well, actually.  I play Vampire the Masquerede, don't ask me what edition, I couldn't care less.  I enjoy playing the game because the storyteller is amazing, the people I spend 3-6-8 hours with are really enjoyable to be around, I get to play pretend - one of my favorite games, and I get to learn life lessons in an environment in which messing us doesn't mess my life up.  My Gypsy Oracular Rune Tossing Seductress Deranged-beyond-all-realms-of-thinkable might bite the undead big one after realizing a life lesson....like what does family mean, really?  But I'd gain that knowledge and not suffer from it in the least.
One thing I learned last night at game was that it's really easy to miss the obvious.  Like....there's a strange thing where you can go through the wall....we go through it but we don't stop and take a look at what makes it different so we end up traipsing all over the place, dodging squishy bad things, jumping over death pits, fighting zombie hoards, and almost entering demonic death chambers because we didn't take the time to stop and look - really look and see why this way was better than the other way.

I kinda feel like that's happening now.  I'm sliding around on ice with no brakes, feeling like I've barely got this shit under control, feeling a bit emotionally and mentally constipated because I'm simply not looking at the writing on the wall.  If I could figure out *how* to just *see* the signs that'll lead to achieving 'self-enlightenment' at this stage, all this pressure would be relieved. 

I feel like internally I've done all this growing and expanding.  My brain is firing in ways it hasn't before, but I haven't figure out how to move beyond this initial stage, and it's getting past cozy into cramped in mental/emotional space I've got.  Which is frustrating.

I know I'm going to get there.  Something'll happen, something will click and I'll have the key that'll allow me to move on to another stage in my development, the pressure will be released, there will be less internal conflict, and I'll have the opportunity to take on another challenge.

Until then, I'm coasting around in a car that has no brakes, where the seat's pushed forward to far, the steering wheel is over sized.  I'm uncomfortable and straining to maintain the effort *not* to hit the puppy in the middle of the road.   That scenario played out in my dream is filled with as much irritation and tension as if I were walking a tightrope high in the air with some one on the end yelling and screaming at me.  I'm walking a fine line that's vibrating with tension, distracted by things that aren't where they should be.  Maybe the enlightenment will come if I just changed the dynamics, ran over the puppy.  If nothing else, it'd stop that loop of nervous frustrated anxiety and tension that wears me down and wears me out.  Even when I'm sleeping.

Wading and waiting

I forgot to take my meds for two days in a row again. I didn't crash/fade/etc... only some minor weird mental states clued me in that I hadn't taken my meds.

However, I had an overwhelmingly clear dream last night. I was in high school in gym class (seems like most depressing dreams start with that sentence.) No one liked me, I was an outcast, ignored for the most part, disapprovingly put down when noticed. Even the gym teacher wouldn't let me play with the other kids, said I wasn't any good and was pathetic at dodge ball or capture the flag, or something similarly mundane. The military guys were better and faster and more agile than I was and he was in contempt of us people who liked to play for fun, and not for keeps.

I knew people casually who weren't pathetic or unloved. Who were liked. They would talk with others about a music festival the school was entering in, about the massive parties that would happen before and after. As I was carrying this black nifty mountain bike through the school on my way out of that "institution" I was passively included in these conversations. I'd tell them I knew they didn't like me, but if they didn't mind, I'd like to go to some of these parties. Such awkward silence emanated from them, their brains scrambling for an excuse or platitude.

Even ostracized and shunned, I was very much at zen like peace. I knew their world, their values, their system wasn't for me. I was sad I wasn't really having fun, that there were people everywhere, but none that really understood me, I simply smiled and told them not to worry, I would be on a bike ride anyway.

I escaped the drudgery of school and my boyfriend - a skinny little boy I didn't really know or even really like, only with him so I wouldn't be alone - by going on bike rides around the town and outlying region. Horribly overweight and unpleasant adults were littered everywhere. Broken down trailers, broken down cars, train cars more rust than metal were stranded on the tracks. The town itself was broken down, struggling, overweight, unhappy, loud with grumblings.

I rode a nifty mountain bike everywhere on the railroad tracks, in the torrential downpours that were apocalyptic in nature, through lush green forests, saw mountains and sunrises that sole my breath away. Each day I went farther and farther away. I knew I couldn't leave yet, I was too young. I was just biding my time until I could. And then I'd never look back.

So I'd take off on my bike, surveying lands that I would eventually slide through, loving them in their majestic beauty, or cities (real cities!) with quirky personalities I'd wander anonymously through. But each night I'd come back to the broken down backwards little town, obsessed with its own importance and the minutia of the inhabitants limited lives. I'd get back in the car that never worked properly to get to school, I'd have my pretend boyfriend, I'd try to convince the gym teacher that having fun was more important than winning, and try to avoid most of my classmates who saw in me something they didn't understand.

Dreams and Drugs

I'm feeling much better today. I've been holding off on describing what's going on because I don't think it's relevant, but to describe what's been going on in my life right now I have to.


Several years ago, before they found out I had a thyroid issue, I went in to see the doctor for a deep depression that I could FEEL was coming not from external influences, but from internal body chemistry changes. They said I was "just depressed" (even though I made clear something wasn't working with my body and this was a symptom and not a cause). They wanted to throw antidepressants at me, so I told them if I got to be depressed on my own somehow, I'd get back on my own - I'd work it out. Basically to screw off - I hate doctor's who just throw medicine at you before ensuring that they're treating the right issue. So I went to a therapist for a year. She wasn't very great, but helped in some areas. Over the course of that year I degenerated significantly and rapidly. I was completely impaired - at the end of that year I couldn't function on a daily basis - I was in a very deep depression, when I wasn't at work I was sleeping, I couldn't think or function. Period. It was effecting all relationships and jeopardizing my job. At this time the therapist said it was definitely a physical cause and not a mental cause, so I went back to the doctor. At this time I wanted relief so I could function (and not lose my job/relationships/etc...) I was told by a friend of mine (my boss at the time) that antidepressants would help and recommended "the mildest antidepressant out there". So I asked my doctor about it while they were discovering my thyroid condition, which took quite a while, I went on anti-depressants, which helped out tremendously. And I've been on anti-depressants in one strength or another for about 2 years now.


Over the past year I've tried going off of them a couple of times because I don't accept that this is just something "I'm going to have to take for the rest of my life." (quote from a doctor) They don't know how SSRI's REALLY work, and they change the brain's chemistry. To treat depression like a disease is to undermine the plasticity of the brain, strength of will, and beauty of being human. But every time I went off it before, it's been - well - horrible.


The withdrawal symptoms are more debilitating than the depression I originally was afflicted with. Bottom line is the withdrawal symptoms for me for Lexapro include dizziness that's really bad - just stepped out of the twirly carnival rides dizzy, emotional sensitivity, nausea, hot flashes, insomnia/needing to sleep for 11-12 hours a day, joint pain, poor motor skills/coordination issues - I become a total and utter clutz, and I cannot think, headaches, etc... etc.... When I've gone off them in the past I've been on higher doses and have had SEVERE issues. This time I was smart and for about 6 months I've been preparing to get off them once and for all, because I'm really at a great time in my life. I don't want to be on them forever, and they take the 64 count box of crayons that life is and pare it down to 24 or 16 colors. Life is all pastels with no neon colors. It deadens you. I don't care to be deadened.


So I originally went from 20 mg to 10 mg and stayed that way for 3 months. Then I went to 5 mg and stayed that way for 2 1/2 months. I went off of them about 2 weeks ago. It's been 10 times less intense than going cold turkey off of 20 mg and I've definitely been experiencing withdrawal symptoms, which cumulated yesterday into a pretty messy conglomeration of nastiness. All in all, though, the symptoms are a lot more mild and my ability to bear them out has been much better. I'm going to check in with my doctor in a week and if the symptoms don't taper off, I'll work with her on getting 2.5 mg doses to take every other day to taper off some more before trying again.


On the up side while all this is going on - I get my 64 colors back, things are more vibrant and poetry abounds. Life is more. I'm thinking in poetry again. When I'm on it, poetry is something that flits through my brain, whereas before I would just live it and think it and be it. So I'm getting my poetry back - :) Another thing I'm getting back is my ability to remember my dreams...which is a double edge sword as my dreams are very intense and not always happy rainbow dreams. I've had very intense dreams about my family (mother, cousin, father, brother, grandmother, etc...) and evil houses that have malevolent intentions repeatedly for the last couple of nights. I'm also dreaming about how we change as people. It's been really amazing and I'm truly stoked about finally getting off of them. All I need to do is bear out a few more days of these withdrawal symptoms (hopefully) and it'll be to a point where it won't interfere with my life so much.

Days that kind of suck.

Today is one of those days that just don't feel right, that don't start off right, and isn't progressing right.

I had an unrestfull night of sleep (more on that later) and woke up hating everything I put on and went through about 7 outfits before deciding I didn't have time to mess around and needed to rush to get to the bus in order to make it to work early.

I'm unusually sensitive emotionally, my thought process broken and I have a headache that's not gone away.

Oh, and evil weird dreams that plagued me through last night. I dreamt last night of traffic whizzing by me and being lost on my bike, trying to climb up hills that were impossible, to look back and see it didn't even qualify as a gentle slope. At the top of the cliff like hill that wasn't even a bump in the road the area turned into a dirty, sad, broken down area where a mother and son were dirt encrusted, hanging onto the edges of society. To make money they took old things and fixed them up, but the mother was kidnapped and held ransom at knife point because the thieves believed the family was wealthy. The thieves didn't believe the mother/son duo were poor because the items they had collected and fixed up looked valuable. It deescalated and resolved with the statement that "If you wait long enough, old crappy things eventually look valuable".

Then the mother and ungrateful "bad" son got into a horrible fight. The mother was screaming that her son was an ungrateful wretch and he attacked her with a knife and a power drill. Failing to cause her demise, she attacked him and they ended up in a tangled bloody mass. Between the mother fighting and beating the son he had the power drill bore through his open mouth into the back of his head for what felt like hours. Disgusted and despondent, he flung himself into the nearest suicide option by jumping into an empty well, but didn't quite succeed. The mother, horrified at what she had caused, leaped down after him but for some reason continued fighting him - and they ended up broken limbed, hole ridden, and bloody at the bottom of the well. During this entire scene, I had morphed into and out of the personas of both the mother and the son and got the lovely experience of ended up spending most of the night feeling like I was being either cruelly bound, having a knife at my throat, drilled into with a power tool, or broken at the bottom of a well. Not a particularly restfull night.

Work is also extremely slow lately, which leads me to work on more administrative, archiving, and standards creation items. Not the same as real project work. Often I'm left wondering how I'm going to fill up the rest of the afternoon. I'm doing all I can to end up on another project though. It's just slow going.

On an up note, my ribs don't hurt quite as much as before and my forearms have stopped weeping. Weeping wounds....I totally love the English language, the structures words have, the way words roll off your tongue, and how some phrases are translatable into different aspects of your life.

Weeping Wounds
Toxicity brought up through
ragged raw bleeding screaming patches -

disgusting painful pieces where
life isn't as it once was.
Pushing the pain
up from depths not yet imagined
my wounds weep,
a process that cannot be foregone,
a necessity for new life to come.

Harbor the hope

that the scarring will be minimal.