Jerked awake at 5 after some terrible dreams that just made me depressed once I was awake and got me started off on the wrong foot for the whole day. On the brink of tears all morning and blah, blah. I’m better now and off the pitty-pot. More about the dreams below and what I think I’ve learned. But first . . .
THE DAY
Unlike yesterday where I was feeling all energized and determined, I was unfocused, not as on the ball, and had a wretched sore throat to boot, which always signals the beginning of a cold (and which I always get when I go to New York). Part of my problem was that and fatigue; part was the bad taste lingering after the dreams. A lot of interruptions, too: one from a shade installer who wanted to come by and do a measurement, and then several calls and texts from the husband who alternately tried to cajole me to come out with him for a doctors’ event this evening (and where he is now). I declined; I’ve been to those kinds of things before the clinic opened here, and mainly because the husband pretty much told me I had to come because “you want me to succeed, don’t you?” Now, let’s get one thing clear: whether I come with him to an event or not has NOTHING to do with his success. How he cares for his patients will determine that. But he really wanted me to come tonight–pointed out how I’d had such a good time before. (Which I hadn’t; he had, and I stood in a corner–literally–most of the night as he was chatted up . . . which is fine. I don’t mind that, per se. This is his clinic, after all, and his job. But, please, let’s not pretend that hanging around a bunch of doctors constitutes a good time. It doesn’t, not for me.)
Anyway, I refused. I’ve done enough of these silly things, and there are several more in my future as it is (clinic holiday party and dinner with various people and get-togethers). Enough already.
I think his idea was that if I went out and saw people, I’d feel better. The thing is . . . that helps him. Socializing has never helped me. I am painfully shy, and while I can relax and have a good time, it takes me a lot of exposure to the same people over a very long time.
Then there were more phone calls and suggestions that we go out for dinner with people, and I finally caved because it was clearly so important for him that we do this together.
Wrote until I had to stop to go to the gym. Finished up the section I wanted to today and then spent some time just now jotting down notes for tomorrow. Actually had a good idea on the way down to the gym–this always happens to me; I get up from the desk and bam! The section I’ve been tussling with all day comes into focus. It’s like those old commercials: Wow! I coulda had a V-8!
Worked out for an hour and a half then did strength training for another half hour. (And I am right about the step-counter on this Gear S2: a Fitbit, this ain’t. After all that aerobic activity, the silly thing told me I’d one a paltry 7,600 steps, which is true bullshit. So I’m going to stop paying attention to the thing.)
Thought about cooking dinner for myself and then decided I wasn’t in the mood. Made rice, added cheese, ate a few carrots: instant dinner.
Did business stuff instead: getting together something I’ve been sitting on for a bit but am ready to pursue now. In a bit, after I finish up with this, I’ll go read and take something for my stuffy nose.
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WRITING OUT LOUD:
FAR SIDE OF THE MOON (I’m going to stop doing totals for the time being because I’m cutting so much out and rearranging stuff, and I know that a goodly number of pages are going to vanish just as soon as I finish what I have set out to do tomorrow. Once those sections are in place, then I’ll start up with totals again. Right now, without cutting out all the garbage, I’ve got about 200 pages, of which I figure about 150+ are actually keepers.)
Day 1: 4,326
Day 2: 2,055
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Blog Post Day 2: 1582
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So the dreams.
At this point, they’re a little fragmentary, but the gist is that I had two, one right after the other, or they might all have been part of the same dream. Anyway, I was being moved to a house that I absolutely hated; there were walls missing, no furniture, no decent beds or bedrooms, and then somehow the dream shifted or another started up where I was shunted to yet another house that was worse than the one I’d just been in. That made me wake up and I was instantly depressed.
Now, you don’t have to be Freud to get these. I’m still all wrapped up in having moved to a place where I’m not comfortable and I really don’t like very much, nice view notwithstanding. There are just some places where you don’t fit–and this is one of those for me.
Houses in dreams almost always represent me, but they also represent my books–so I can’t tell if I’ve lost all faith in the book I’m working on now (it is so easy to tell myself that I stink) or that by jettisoning it or not finishing, I’d be worse off than I am now. Personally, I’m inclined to believe the latter. I just got to see this sucker through and have a little patience.
The other thing I got to stop doing is talking about not liking it here. It only makes the husband feel bad (and is probably what I intend–boy, does it suck to be a shrink; you can never do anything without dissecting your motives) and it’s not like he can do anything about it. Oh, he tries; he did it this morning. But then I end up rejecting his suggestions–saying no, no, no to all that when what I really want to be doing and have done is said no, no, no when this whole move first came up as a possibility. I’m not going to bore you–or me–with a recitation of why I told him he should go for this move (and yes, I really did; we wouldn’t really be here if I hadn’t talked him into it–and it has been good for his career). But my unconscious and the three-year-old in me is coming back with a vengeance–and I got to cut it out. It’s wrong and selfish and certainly doesn’t help me write.
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I only watch shows while I’m at the gym. It helps the time go by and I feel as if I’m not wasting time just sitting there, gorking out.
So, what I’m watching:
The Art of More (several episodes into this series about art theft, and it’s got its moments)
The Man in the High Castle (but only sort of . . . I’ve really lost patience with this one. It’s quite slow, and honestly, do I really need one more show on the Holocaust, even if we’re talking an alternative history? I know the book, yet everyone who watches the show keeps telling me to stick with it.)
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I also try to read every night. Sometimes, I’ll get a whole chapter in; other nights, just a few pages before I nod off–and yeah, I do my reading in bed, mostly (except when I’m on an airplane). For any book I start, I always employ the Stephen King rule: if after 15-20% in, I’m giving the book more than it’s giving back, I chuck it and move on. I also usually have several books going.
So, what I’m reading:
The Dog Lived and So Did I by Teresa Rhyne (Started this on the airplane out to NY; got about a quarter through it; read more on the way back–thank you, Southwest; I do love those Kobo book–and am just about done. I like nonfiction and memoirs, possibly because I get ideas and possibly because I can enjoy the book without any ugly green envies popping up. Anyway, I didn’t think I’d groove to this one, but it’s been a surprisingly fun and enjoyable read.)
The Euthanist by Alex Dolan (Another Kobo read that I eventually bought because I couldn’t finish it on the plane; working my way a little more slowly through this, because I’m not sure where this thing is going and if I truly care. But I’ll probably give it a little more time.)
Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand (Meh; it’s really a novella and it’s not bad, but it’s not terrifically compelling either. I’m about twenty pages from the end, so I’ll stick with it, mainly because it’s so short. Otherwise, I’d chuck it.)
Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu (Actually, I listened to this one and just finished it on the drive back from the gym. Heard about it around Halloween and so decided, sure, why not? The audio’s quite good. Is the story GREAT? No, and it’s not remotely scary. But it is an interesting historical piece since it predates Dracula. I might check out some of Le Fanu’s other stories, too. He was quite the name in his day.)
It sounds to me, and I don’t mean to be intrusive, like you need someone to talk to. There’s a lot of self disclosure in your recent posts which could be signs of decompensation from too many stresses coming all at once. Please feel free to delete this post if I’ve offended you by crossing boundaries.
You’re not being intrusive. Blogs are frequently nothing more than open journals, and believe me, I do know how to self-edit 😉 Since I am a shrink, though, I do understand what decompensation is, and trust me, this is not that, not even close. That I can reflect on my feelings and what I may be doing that does or doesn’t help me is insight instead of flailing.
Let me put it another way: if this were a blog written by a person with cancer–and all its attendant highs and lows and frustrations and fears–instead of a blog about a writer who’s struggling to find her voice again in a place she’d rather not be, no one would blink an eye. It would be almost expected. I have a writer-friend who died of cancer about a year and a half ago, and his blogs were painful to read. But he wrote them, and I admired his courage just as I also felt badly for him and wanted to help.
So I do appreciate your concern, I really do. I appreciate knowing that someone is reading, and cares.
For heaven’s sake, if a shrink can’t tolerate a little straight talk, who can?
No worries, Ashley 🙂