I assume, at times, that my thoughts/states/decrees/mindsets could be a STAGE. One never knows if one will uncover some profound factoid that will turn everything upside down. So, I have learned to slow down and wait things out a bit. 

When things don't change much, no matter how much you stare at them, ignore them, play with them or rearrange them, you have to wonder if that is IT.

If that is the case - I don't belong. Not in a martyred woe is meeeeeeee way. Honest. In the way of I get what people are saying or think they are saying, and I GET that they disagree with me, but I just feel like we are talking across a cultural divide. It does feel very I'm OK-You're OK (but admittedly with a smug twinge of But I Think I'm  MORE OK at times!). No matter what people accuse me of, I don't feel that they can accuse me of a lack of self knowledge, introspection, philosophical and existential exploration or emotional awareness. It grates me significantly when I am judged on my moral stance or beliefs or actions, by people who I consider to be lacking in a very basic level of self awareness. The problem being that I seem to be SURROUNDED by them.

A good friend today accused me of resorting to a 'cop out' to 'justify' my behaviour over an incident that seems to have morally divided me from well, every single person that I know. It irritated me - not because I am offended by being told they think I'm acting badly  - but that she is unwilling to try to understand me first. Only because it really would be interesting and useful and nurturing to discuss my stance (that I UNDERSTAND is 'abnormal') from my side of the fence. Place this in a context of a number of my choices in life that I consider to be a moral issue for myself (especially in relation to environmental and animal treatment issues) run at odds with the same 'in group/society' that condones my apparent transgressions. 

By a cross section of Society I am considered immoral... and my good deeds and efforts are irrelevant. 

I am considered wanton and damaged - I FEEL calmer, more balanced and more mindful and content than I ever have in my life. 

My now-developed patience and zen annoys people. They seek my opinion/thoughts/engagement and find that my offerings are at odds with the desire for Get It Now, That Which is Over There - any advice sounds condescending or irritating. I have three choices in nearly all social interactions at the moment - offer my thoughts - pretend something that is not how I feel - or detach myself emotionally from the conversation. Yep, I get to be alienated or dis-authentic. 

The reason that I am trying to sort all this out in my head is that it does seem way easier and NICER to step back and immerse myself in what makes me happy - but I also know that isolation has some unfortunate side effects on me. 

What a bore. 

Tonight, I am dealing with the silly challenge of having had an idiotic clash with an young idiot - over an issue that they were shrill, incompetent and well, idiotic about - no question - and now that she has had a change of heart she is trying to make out that my  reaction to cope and plan with her meltdown is somehow nasty... the actual details are unnecessary to write, because you may well die of boredom, or at the least, fall into a coma of boredom. Always a risk. 

I don't know why I bother even interacting with idiots. Why? Of course I am right - in pretty much any topic we clash about. I can unbiased say that this is fact, seriously. So surely, I shouldn't care. Why do I care. What is the irritating human need, however small, to know that you are right? Especially when there is no way on earth that the idiot is ever going to even murmur about ones rightness. Fuck. Fuck. See, I have been working on my potty mouth, and am allowing an idiotic teenager and her idiocy to spawn a blog entry. So wrong, on so many levels. 

Also silly is how I managed to drink two bottles of champagne between midday and 6pm. Not at a party - whilst doing stable chores. You know, as you do. The good news is, I'm only drinking on weekends. Ha. That doesn't sound defensive at all. 

(my baby with his dad tonight. I miss. him. )

I keep writing updates in my head! The strangest thing has happened. I have stopped dreaming of my childhood home, after I wrote about it. I wonder if my brain will let me in on the processing it does without me knowing about it. 

I keep having crazy vivid dreams, but since I decided to write out a post about it, I seem to go through it in my head and sort myself out before I even sit down to write. 

There is a possibility that a friend may be coming to live with myself, Tom and my father. With her 8 yo son, and 16 yo daughter. Yes, this is communal living at it's most full on!!! It is 50/50 at this point - all up to her and some career options... it is exciting and scary and very likely the context of future writing. 

I am fairly sure that I have written in the past about my dreaming - my vivid, strange, believable, realistic, extraordinary and sometimes lucid dreams. I still remember in minute detail some of the dreams that I had when I was a small child - single, and recurring. 

Dreams are a funny concept - they can be so fantastic that you can't comprehend that something is so normal, so human; so common, yet so individual. I cannot speak for other people because I don't have their dreams, but I find my dreams incredibly difficult to describe the next day, even if I appear to be giving quite a detailed recounting. It just isn't right. One can never quite convey the full narrative and intrinsic details of a dream - sometimes realistic comparisons just don't seem to exist. 

I have always thought about my dreams and sometimes struggled to remember whether something happened or if it was a dream. Lately, I have been more and more aware of recurring themes and places in my dreams, I have tried to understand it but there is no manual! Well there ARE - but they are as useful as a horoscope in a newspaper. 

My last post was about the ability of ones brain to process things without even knowing it, so I have decided to start trying to record my dreams. A lengthy narrative seems way too arduous at this point.. so maybe just themes and ideas and places to start with - let my brain uncover things as it goes on. 

Last night I dreamed again that I went 'back' to school. Not the school I went to in NZ, the one it Sydney. It was a 'first day' - the dreams are often first days. People who went to school with me then have also gone back... plus friends and teachers from my school in NZ. I dream about that school all the time - the only thing that is realistic is the basic structure of the buildings and some of the classrooms - the actual school and situation is totally different. 

In many of my dreams, 'home' is my childhood home in Sydney. My family is still together - not as a focal point of the dream, but as the background. 

There are many simplistic interpretations that anyone could make at this point - but they still don't make any meaningful sense, so I shall keep watching. 

there seems to be a pattern in my blogging. Well, a repeat. Last week, this week. I'm easily convinced.

So, I went to see my therapist on Tuesday. It was hard for me, in my head, although the discussion wasn't distressing. Being challenged is never comfortable, and is never what you want at the time. She has come up trumps again, with a subconscious resurgance days later - ideas that I think I reject, suddenly popping up again and apparently I have already processed it.

Today, I had an uninteresting battle with myself over eating. Or not. Suddenly, her bloody words were in my head. The consequences change. Once you get better (head injury energy, etc) it won't be an issue. I heard myself replying in 100% anorexic responses. I argued with myself, and I felt that old guilt and shame and embarrament rise up. Although it didn't make it any less uncomfortable, the awareness/dejavu of the futlity of my dumb arguements are obvious. Enough to think about howgood I will feel to take control - that giving myself over to the predictable regime of an ed is NOT control, well, not a control that I want. I suddenly remembered how great I felt last year in myself. I DO want to feel that again.

Tonight, I don't know if it is enough to convince me to eat dinner, but it is certainly a shift.

And I have never known so many swift shifts before. Hurrah therapy - hurrah timeframes. Maybe it is good that things aren't open ended, this time around.

I woke this early morning and lay snug in my bed thinking about things until I had to get up. It was productive thinking that I wish I had written down immediately! I had started thinking about Amanda's questioning about the trigger of my current low mood - she had wondered if it was about the questions I had posed of myself last year around my conscious rejection of the 'idea' of a romantic relationship in my life. Whether I had a sense of something missing now. 

The answer to this question first of all - mulled over at length, is that I have decided to not care. Perhaps it is 'damage' that makes me uninterested in a relationship again, but whether the lack of motivation to question myself over this is also damage could be overthinking - in fact, HAS to be overthinking. My official stance on the matter is that unless I meet someone who forces me to rethink, it is an non issue - there are too many other things in my life that I have right NOW that give me happiness to give something like that any priority. I might regret it one day (and many people think that I will) but I might regret lots of things... in every choice you make there is the potential for regret. I have thought it through, I might be damaged, I might be wrong, but I DO think it is a mindful choice. 

So - after reaching this conclusion, I thought to myself, well, what IS missing? Something has to be missing. Of course something is missing - and of course I seem to look for it, or long for it, or feel the lack of it. What IS IT?

My instinct was to say "a mother" - and I think that would have been the right answer for a long time throughout my life. I have a mother, of course, one whom I love very much - and we now have a good relationship - but partly this good relationship has been achieved by the necessity of me (and maybe us) effectively wiping clean the slate of about a decade of volatility. There is a box in the back of my brain with unanswered hurts and questions, but I have accepted that these are not likely to be addressed. That is ok - they aren't exactly overwhelming anymore. 

But is isn't that anymore. I look at what I have looked to say, Amanda for, over the more recent years. Trying to put that into words I first found "someone to go to" - but that wasn't right. I have had HER to go to, I have had other people to 'go to'. I rephrased it - "someone to phone up in tears". Perfect. I want someone to phone up in tears. 

Then I realised. I do have those people in my life. I have people, other than Amanda, who would take a call from me, in tears, and do their best to make things better, or just BE THERE. 

The problem is ME. I don't phone them in tears. My rare tears are usually censored by even myself. I am more likely to do something destructive and out of proportion, than to expose certain types of vulnerability. There have been very good reasons for this in the past but my Latest Self Help Challenge is to truly grasp that this defense mechanism NO LONGER SERVES ME. 

This piece of writing, and the piece of writing last night, both allllllllllmost flowed. A couple of pauses as I searched for words, but I don't think that I have had to hit backspace once! Whoot! My brain really feels like it is starting to work and it has been sooooo long. I am also slightly perked up by the fact that therapy is doing its subtle work inside my mind again - but faster than I thought! I didn't think that there was a way for me to feel 'better' in a few sessions, but I am trusting again. I really am so lucky to have someone to work with who knows which questions need to be planted in my brain.

So, it is with some small degree of energy that I face my Friday - the thoughts that things WILL be OK again, and that my life isn't without happiness, both actually do hold comfort. 

So, I'm coming back. 

One of my biggest flaws (in my mind) is my total lack of mental discipline for things that do not interest me. My ability to be distracted is almost subclinical, it is the driving force behind my grand under achievement in life. My attention span is fleeting at best and I have learned, over the years, to be quite picky about the things that I apply my streak of perfectionism too. So it is with some incredulity that I am able to report that in the last week or so I have productively Done My Job. All of it. As it turns out, it isn't that hard at all. Very possibly easier than avoiding work - something that I am a master at. The beauty of it is that as well as being able to smugly provide people with answers to their work related questions, I have been able to progress at a pleasing pace in Bubble Witch Saga. PLUS - I seem to have been able to NOT take a midday nap all week, which mayormaynotbe related to the increasing, echoing distance from my last drink. Ok, so it has only been 5 days, but hey, look at me being sensible. Behaviour being effectively reinforced with my noticable weight loss. Hurrah.

Another flaw that seems to be spotlit at present is my tendancy to 'over think' things. It has never really bothered me, ever. The process of my head injury treatment has laid bare my personality traits and behavioural quirks, my strengths, and things that apparently may compromise my recovery. It has been a quite hateful experience, making me terribly glad that I have been quite blessed with some quite fabulous therapists over time. The OT that works with me is lovely - the neurologist was nice - it was only the neuropsychologist who enraged me - but the knowledge of people DISCUSSING me is quite unnerving. The good thing is that I have been able to get some sessions with Amanda funded by the concussion service.

My feelings about therapy these days are quite mixed. I haven't quite settled down to how I view the process now - I wasn't expecting to be plunged into a 'bad patch' so abruptly and I feel very embarrassed about the things that I find myself sharing. Being a mother changes so much - being a good mother, the BEST mother is my biggest priority, so I am ashamed at the self indulgent feelings and thoughts that I can't ignore. I feel ashamed to admit to feeling sad - even with the pure joy of Tom in my life. It drives my darkness underground, which is why I have committed to these few sessions with Amanda before she goes on maternity leave again - maybe stop things getting deep rooted. I told her some of my most embarrassing thoughts yesterday when I met with her - I may have to tell her them again to ensure they don't build up any power inside my head. I don't entirely understand why, but I can say that I do feel more positive since I spoke with her yesterday - an inkling more positive.

Things are various shades of mundane presently. Less chaotic furious though, and less sniffly pity party. I have been entertaining the notion of looking on the bright side of things and maybe reframing things, and maybe stepping up and doing things about the things that I CAN change. Apply a bit more balance, and control, over the way things are going.

I had a therapy session on Monday and like all good therapy sessions, the moments of awareness have come later - the actual content was very much along the lines of me moaning about my First World Problems. (Reminds me of that hilarious moment in star trek - oh the shame - where Counselor Troi suggests to her client that the reason her boss is being unfair to her is because he is tired of listening to her complain. Haha. "I certainly am. Imagine what it is like, listening to people whining about themselves all day long")

I have not been drinking. I am eating healthyfoods - both to lose weight and be healthy. I am taking my naps. I am trying, largely, to be more productive and hard working at my job. I am also painfully addicted to Bubble Witch Saga on facebook. I gave up trying to be a Wax Only Hair removal person and bought some razors. I have been using sudocrem on my face instead of moisturiser. I slept with a friend of mine, again, on purpose, and didn't tell anyone. I went for a walk with the Married Man, talked about the stars and let him kiss me - and then realised I didn't want to do that again. Of course, I might, because I'm an idiot.

The awkward thing about being damaged is that one doesn't always know if one is doing something, or not doing something, because one wants to, doesn't want to, or that one is being driven by some subconcious dysfunctional baggage. It leads one to doing stupid things, hunkering down and assessing, scouting missions, hiding, faking, acting, and predictably, drinking. The unfortunate thing is that despite it all, it is still almost impossible to work out which is which.

Which is, apparently, Life.

Ahhh.

This morning I woke early again..by again, I mean the third morning in a row. Maybe second. Ha. As I stayed snuggled in bed with a particularly warm, snuggly Eddy, I allowed my brain to sift and process Things. My dreams primed me for some productive thinking - full of thought provoking encounters with Ghosts of Therapists Past. I have an interesting collection, and they do not usually appear in  same dream together, so assumed they were trying to tell me something. (something less boring than the instructions from current therapist people along lines of Rest and Nap and Don't Drink) I had a think about why I am well, depressed at the moment. Obviously I'm not a stranger to various degrees of nutbaggery, but they have usually been more of the ansty jittery anxiety type. I think that any bouts of the doldrums have usually been accompanied by erm, energetic weight loss attempts which really do require a certain amount of effort and in some strange way, enthusiasm.

I think I know why. I finally grew up and took responsibility for myself, which is wayyyyyyyyy less exciting than expecting someone to step in and take over and fix things. I gave up the childish kernal of hope that the mother I appear to think that I missed out on would appear and make everything that has ever happened mean something different. I realised that no matter how much I try to understand things and piece things together and make peace with things, every aspect of my past will still be the same, and there are certainly parts of me shaped by that past that are just ME. Understanding more about edoesn't make it different.

I don't need to get over anything, I need to get ON with everything. Work with what I have. Which, looking in the mirror, is frankly disappointing. With the abandonment of hope comes the grainy realisation that I really am not that much. I would much prefer to return to my previous Illusions of Grandeuer. (where hasthe spellcheck button gone? Can no longer spell)

It is probably assumed that when most people blog, they aren't drunk, so it seems to be a bit idiotic that I feel the need to point out that I am not drinking! And didn't last night. I'm quite chuffed with self when I don't- I really try to NOT every day lately, due t the fact that I became fat. It is conceivable that this weight gain could have contributed tothis dpression, now that I don't have the seduction of ed stuff luring me with any conviction. The voice of reason is too clear,now. Meh.

It is 8pm and I am in bed. Obviously not sleeping, but if I wasn't feeling an internal tug I would at least have the lamp off and be moping myself to sleep. Today has been long and busy and full of things I didn't particularly like. People at work were shitheads. I had a meeting with my OT where I got to be reminded that although I am improving, I am head injured and not my old self. The meetings always make me want to cry. I kept going out to my car in the afternoon for a swig of wine, which seemed totally normal when I did it, but appears entirely fucked up as I type it now! Then, this evening, I had to bury one of the sweet, sweet stable cats who had an accident recently. She let me nurse her for a week, but then disappeared mid last week. Her body was found today. I have been sad about her anyway, so finding her wasn't worse. I was glad to bury her. I made her a little cross.

I used to find it way to easy to write endlessly about my moods and emotions. The more gritty and cathartic the better- one could use more adjectives and one likes adjectives. Now, really, I am just embarrassed. I feel way more inclined to keep things a secret now. Partly I do think that I am always scared that if someone realises that I am not perfect, then they will think that I am not a good mother - although really, I don't care what 'people' think... so perhaps I am worried to think to myself that I am not a good mother. I am always so very mindful of my memories of my mothers moods as a child - her sadness seems to pervade so many of my memories and seems to sit right there beside my anxiety. I'm quite fanatical about ensuring that Tom does not have a childhood like that! I want to teach him how to experience negative emotions and thoughts too of course - but at the moment, it seems way more appropriate to sing and pull funny faces to make him laugh - his laughter is good for both of us. Plus, who knows, my awesome songs about big yellow diggers and chainsaws and train tunnels may make us our fortune if a talent scout hears them! Despite that, though, 'this' takes me inside myself and away from really connecting with him. I sit too often with a sense that when he grows up and gets to know me, he may not love me the way that biology has ensured he does now. He really is so, so cute and precious. I am smiling just thinking of him. Two years old now!! Two! How does that happen, seriously.

I think, really, that lying to everyone about how much I drink is what has hidden me away in my head.