Subconscience, what a long word. Not easy to say, and least of all not easy to understand.
My mind usually is spinning before it is connected to the fact that my eyes are open and I am sitting on the edge of the bed.
I wonder if that part of my brain parties through my sleep mode. Does the real truth come out?
Is what we say in our dreams really matter?
How many times is the truth that needs to be told hidden so deep within, that sometimes therapists can not even hold their breath long enough for the information to surface.
I know for me, the past three to four days, something has been going on inside my head while I am resting. Am I really resting though, or literally taking a break from stress and worries?
For the last few days I have had dreams where I wake up and am crying. I even took a nip at the Take A Nap bottle today, and when I awoke, my eyes were wet from tears.
What is it that is going on? Someone inside of me knows the truth, and yet I am still the last to know.
I dreamed one time I was married but had a ball and chain around my neck. I know that I am lonely for companionship of a nice guy, but I never really ponder on marriage. I know that if I had to remarry my ex, I would run quickly a way dragging that added weight with me.
I dreamed another time that I was divorcing something. It wasn’t human. It was ugly and huge in my mind. I remember crying because it woke me up. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t let me go. It was like a fierce ball of fire and no matter which way I turned it followed me.
I have been doing one thing that I thought I was healed from. Waiting for the boogey man to get me. When I was a very young child, and I was abused, it happened through the night hours.
There was also another time that made me afraid of the dark. I don’t know if this is what I have made me believe or if the reason was real. I can remember when I was brought back by the Welfare Department when I was around three years old I had to be very good and also quiet.
The motto for me in those young days was, children should be seen and not heard.
I can remember being put in the coat closet for a couple of days. Now my memory tells me that my Grandma said I was sick. I had chicken pox or something and darkness made it go a way.
All I know is that I was scared. I can remember it like it was yesterday. Sitting in the dark closet on the carpeted floor. Feeling the material of coat sleeves and scarves touching me. For years and years, I was afraid for it to get dark outside. I always thought the boogy man was coming to get me.
I have reasoned with myself so many hundreds of times. I told myself anything that would get me through the night. I would say things like
You are too ugly, no one would ever want you. You are too heavy, no one would stay at the window and stare at you. As soon as it breaks daylight, I can go to sleep.
I used to sit up with a knife in my hand when I was married and my husband worked thirds. I would stay up all night until I heard the birds sing then I could sleep. Finally I started having my daughter sleep with me. She replaced the knife.
When things got so bad that I thought I was going insane I sought help. This took a long time but I did get better. I am usually not bothered with the Boogy man anymore until recently.
I don’t want him back. In my reality I know that the friction of what happened this past weekend has done more damage to me than I thought. Dreams and Boogy man all come back.
I must be tired, in fact I know I am tired. I find myself taking naps more frequently. I have spent many hours on the phone making calls trying to get an XL size commode here for Al.
Medicare bought one for him last September, so now they won’t get him one for now. He has to have it. There is a weight limit to be able to get the bigger size and Al isn’t at that weight.
I am desperately trying to find this so I won’t have to clean up every time he potties. I am also trying to find a Lift Chair for him. With him only able to stand for a few moments and take about three steps before he is down, I thought a lift chair would be perfect.
Guess what? Another wall to run into. In order for Medicare or Medicaid to pay for one of these, he was to be able to walk with at least a walker.
I wish now that I would have given up on the Title of Help Pay This Big Bill and instead ask you to help me with donations for a lift chair. I don’t know the answers anymore. I just know that I am bumping into walls higher than I can climb.
I think in my eyes this is the beast that represents divorce and tears and the boogy man. Al wants to come home. I want him to come home. I want him to feel loved. He needs to feel loved.
I am tired of crying in my dreams, but can’t shed tears while I am a wake. I am tired of restless nights. I have made progress, and I am very thankful, but yet this shadow hovers over me.
Today I was able to get a hold of a company that will provide Al with his briefs,(adult diapers), bed pads, and gloves for me. His hospital bed and wheelchair have prescriptions now waiting for his return. He was let out of his cage and back into his room. This is all progress, right? So what am I worrying or stressing about?
If God wants him to have an XL commode and a lift chair, he is going to have to supply it. This is all I know anymore.
|Part of Speech:||adjective|
|Definition:||innermost in thought|
|Synonyms:||hidden, inmost, inner, intuitive, latent, mental, repressed, subliminal, suppressed, unconscious|
- JB: Afraid of the Dark (jessandjonstories.wordpress.com)
- Strange Voices Sunday (cultofotis.wordpress.com)
- Broken body clock. (chloeturbill.wordpress.com)
- A Short Story (awakeohsleeper514.wordpress.com)
- Reaching through the dream (stonehengewriters.wordpress.com)
- Until I Fall Asleep (destinysays.wordpress.com)
- Dreaming Through Her Dreams (metaphysicalspeculations.wordpress.com)
- Random Reset out of Sleep Mode (forums.crackberry.com)
- When you sleep? (remmysblog.wordpress.com)