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Mar. 31st, 2015 02:04 amI was surprised this morning, to find it was in the 60s when I took the kids to school. Not, for me, paper thin pajama pants and tank top weather at all.
I did a lot of enjoyable things that were productive and yet were not the things that needed to be done most. This habit is becoming entrenched, for me - if I have easy homework to do, I'll clean the whole house and make more elaborate meals. If I have hard homework to do, I'll do the easy homework even though it's just extra credit or not due for a week. If I have very hard homework that's very important, I'll make harrowing phone calls I've dodged for weeks and do the less important hard homework.
This pattern is related to how, if I don't have a LOT to do, I just won't do anything.
On the other hand, I give myself no credit whatsoever for legitimately having huge demands on my time. It's hard to feel as though I've been "busy" at all when I'm busy with very mindless tasks, like driving people to appointments and washing the dishes as I listen to NPR. I also tend not to "count" anything I enjoy selfishly, so if for instance I bake lemon cakes for tea time and read to my kids a ton before bed, well, that hardly ranks at all on the productivity scale. Those things are basically for me.
I had another naptime nightmare, that felt very similar to the one I described last week, but in a way I don't know how to describe. It wasn't a sad or scary dream, I was just full of low level bitterness and anxiety by turn throughout the whole thing.
In the dream I was writing in some professional building for creative writers, and by logistical coincidence I was assigned a desk near Anne Rice's. We talked sometimes just due to proximity. I was not fangirling at all in the dream. She overheard conversations with my kids and was fascinated with the way our house sounded - which was basically like a crumbling and dilapidated cesspool of previous splendor.
I brought her home with me to see at some point, after "work," as though it were an errand. The house was not our actual house. The shower floor was soggy and hilly, with a green 6" inches of mold growing all over it like moss. The kitchen sink was broken in half and didn't run water, it was basically a place we took dirty dishes to stay forever. The ceilings everywhere were peeling, hanging down in flaps, and periodically dropping small piles of gravelly dust. It was also very interesting, with still-bright velvety tapestries on the walls, unusual architecture, and lots to look at it in every room. As well as too dim everywhere, from the window's being almost opaque with grime, and most light bulbs having burned out.
Prior to last week, I hadn't really had a dream I remembered in a long time. Now I'm having richly detailed ones I remember a lot from, practically every time my eyes close. I would worry that I could be pregnant if I wasn't on my period right now.
A few days ago I dreamed I was standing in calf high water outside somewhere, just in the middle of a neighborhood, with my mom. She was telling me about how my Grandpa had travelled forward in the future when he was alive, and seen Florida hundreds of years from now. How there was a thriving black market for hearts, and as a result many people had theirs stolen right out of their chests, and walked around gory and wounded without one, staring and blank. In the dream, I remember thinking that was not the kind of thing my mom could make up, and that she obviously didn't think she was lying to me.
Maybe I just really, REALLY need to write, or maybe this is all related to whatever issues-to-work-through it is that I have bubbling up inside of me, now.
Re: Saturday's counseling session, and my dream about Nana and Pa's house - I am really weirdly fixated on houses. I've had recurring nightmares about a particular dream-house that's sentient and evil for decades. I used to sign the inside of closets, before I moved, as a kid. I keep reading about feng shui, lately.
It's a really ambivalent and complicated thing in my mind and I was actually considering earlier how freeing it might be to just travel around to hotels or camp for some extended period of time, later in life. I've done way too much driving around to revisit old places, in my life, and felt too strongly about returning to spots. I really want to shake it all off, like, who gives a damn about location? Why do I give such an embarrassingly large damn about walls and hallways and attics and bathrooms and porches and shit?
Speaking of embarrassing... My counselor thinks my heartache around the idea of "home" and, clearly related, my feelings about abandonment, are at the center of my disordered eating. Emotional hunger. The good part of this is that, if that's the truth, that's a path to go down, a method to try. Some knowledge to possibly aid in getting to the root of the disordered eating and even past that.
I'm up too late again and that's annoying.
My good friend Kathy is going to make a weekly thing of bringing her kids over on Mondays, and that's cool. Ananda likes talking to her, and Jake and Elise like playing with her kids (they're a toddler and an infant). I have been intensely lonely for real life adult interaction at times in the past few months. I have a few people I text with a TON, and that's very helpful, but it only goes so far.
I'm probably going to be devoting far too many hours of the next two days to math that strains my ability to feel good about life, but I think it will be worth it.
Little Things That Have Become Huge Things To Me:
-Having all upcoming things written on the wall calendar and programmed in my phone, with multiple alerts set up.
-Having all expenses accounted for in a budget - even if we can't afford all that we need to, I feel at ease and in control that we understand the situation accurately and can prioritize accordingly.
-Lesson plans and day trips, with Jake and Elise.
-Taking supplements, exercising daily, and stretching often.
-Smells, in our house.
I did a lot of enjoyable things that were productive and yet were not the things that needed to be done most. This habit is becoming entrenched, for me - if I have easy homework to do, I'll clean the whole house and make more elaborate meals. If I have hard homework to do, I'll do the easy homework even though it's just extra credit or not due for a week. If I have very hard homework that's very important, I'll make harrowing phone calls I've dodged for weeks and do the less important hard homework.
This pattern is related to how, if I don't have a LOT to do, I just won't do anything.
On the other hand, I give myself no credit whatsoever for legitimately having huge demands on my time. It's hard to feel as though I've been "busy" at all when I'm busy with very mindless tasks, like driving people to appointments and washing the dishes as I listen to NPR. I also tend not to "count" anything I enjoy selfishly, so if for instance I bake lemon cakes for tea time and read to my kids a ton before bed, well, that hardly ranks at all on the productivity scale. Those things are basically for me.
I had another naptime nightmare, that felt very similar to the one I described last week, but in a way I don't know how to describe. It wasn't a sad or scary dream, I was just full of low level bitterness and anxiety by turn throughout the whole thing.
In the dream I was writing in some professional building for creative writers, and by logistical coincidence I was assigned a desk near Anne Rice's. We talked sometimes just due to proximity. I was not fangirling at all in the dream. She overheard conversations with my kids and was fascinated with the way our house sounded - which was basically like a crumbling and dilapidated cesspool of previous splendor.
I brought her home with me to see at some point, after "work," as though it were an errand. The house was not our actual house. The shower floor was soggy and hilly, with a green 6" inches of mold growing all over it like moss. The kitchen sink was broken in half and didn't run water, it was basically a place we took dirty dishes to stay forever. The ceilings everywhere were peeling, hanging down in flaps, and periodically dropping small piles of gravelly dust. It was also very interesting, with still-bright velvety tapestries on the walls, unusual architecture, and lots to look at it in every room. As well as too dim everywhere, from the window's being almost opaque with grime, and most light bulbs having burned out.
Prior to last week, I hadn't really had a dream I remembered in a long time. Now I'm having richly detailed ones I remember a lot from, practically every time my eyes close. I would worry that I could be pregnant if I wasn't on my period right now.
A few days ago I dreamed I was standing in calf high water outside somewhere, just in the middle of a neighborhood, with my mom. She was telling me about how my Grandpa had travelled forward in the future when he was alive, and seen Florida hundreds of years from now. How there was a thriving black market for hearts, and as a result many people had theirs stolen right out of their chests, and walked around gory and wounded without one, staring and blank. In the dream, I remember thinking that was not the kind of thing my mom could make up, and that she obviously didn't think she was lying to me.
Maybe I just really, REALLY need to write, or maybe this is all related to whatever issues-to-work-through it is that I have bubbling up inside of me, now.
Re: Saturday's counseling session, and my dream about Nana and Pa's house - I am really weirdly fixated on houses. I've had recurring nightmares about a particular dream-house that's sentient and evil for decades. I used to sign the inside of closets, before I moved, as a kid. I keep reading about feng shui, lately.
It's a really ambivalent and complicated thing in my mind and I was actually considering earlier how freeing it might be to just travel around to hotels or camp for some extended period of time, later in life. I've done way too much driving around to revisit old places, in my life, and felt too strongly about returning to spots. I really want to shake it all off, like, who gives a damn about location? Why do I give such an embarrassingly large damn about walls and hallways and attics and bathrooms and porches and shit?
Speaking of embarrassing... My counselor thinks my heartache around the idea of "home" and, clearly related, my feelings about abandonment, are at the center of my disordered eating. Emotional hunger. The good part of this is that, if that's the truth, that's a path to go down, a method to try. Some knowledge to possibly aid in getting to the root of the disordered eating and even past that.
I'm up too late again and that's annoying.
My good friend Kathy is going to make a weekly thing of bringing her kids over on Mondays, and that's cool. Ananda likes talking to her, and Jake and Elise like playing with her kids (they're a toddler and an infant). I have been intensely lonely for real life adult interaction at times in the past few months. I have a few people I text with a TON, and that's very helpful, but it only goes so far.
I'm probably going to be devoting far too many hours of the next two days to math that strains my ability to feel good about life, but I think it will be worth it.
Little Things That Have Become Huge Things To Me:
-Having all upcoming things written on the wall calendar and programmed in my phone, with multiple alerts set up.
-Having all expenses accounted for in a budget - even if we can't afford all that we need to, I feel at ease and in control that we understand the situation accurately and can prioritize accordingly.
-Lesson plans and day trips, with Jake and Elise.
-Taking supplements, exercising daily, and stretching often.
-Smells, in our house.
