Random Thoughts of a Disordered Mind


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Seriously Weird Dream

I don’t always dream, but I did last night and it was a doozy.  It was in vivid color and I wore the same clothes throughout, though I don’t remember what they were.

I was alone in a city that looked a little like Boston but wasn’t.  The sky was deep clear blue.  I went up some stairs to a “view of the city” kind of outlook place that turned into an aerial tour of the city.  But our transport was individual water rafts, the kind we used in the ocean as kids.  I lay on my tummy looking to my right, with my feet dangling off the end, as the buildings got sharper and closer and we swooped and circled.  It was so quiet, so calm, so centered. I could have floated all day.  Somehow I pulled out my camera and was snapping a few pictures of the view as we floated.

When we landed, I climbed up some metal stairs as though I’d been on a lower deck of a ship to get to street level.  And I was in a tourist trap shopping mecca, looking at on-sale Christmas ornaments.  I explored and looked, picked up colorful jeweled items only to put them back and not buy anything.

I then wandered down a hallway past more stores, opened a door, and was in the vendor area of a professional conference that I’ve attended for 18 years (and won’t be going to this year).  They were taking things down, but I found the people from our online library system vendor – none of whom I recognized – and they started asking me questions about what I thought of the new enhancements that I knew nothing about.  I felt stupid and confused.

Next thing I knew I was back in Virginia, dropping in to see the rector of the church I attended when I lived there.  Someone I haven’t seen in 25 years.  He was the boss of the priest who abused me there.  I was talking with his wife when he came in the door, stopped dead in his tracks, and looked at me with both sadness and hope.  We didn’t talk about the abuse and tiptoed around the past, but he did tell me how wonderful I looked – and also that he’d lost 210 lbs., to which I replied that I’d lost 97 lbs (which isn’t quite true).

I left their house and as I walked down the street, I saw my best friend who lives in Chicago, with her dog.  She had to run an errand so asked me to keep the puppy occupied which involved throwing balls and running around.  The dog was/is adorable but she had way more energy than I did and one toss of the ball went wild and she chased it into the street.  I woke up before I knew if she was safe.

Tessie woke me up meowing next to my head that it was time to make a tummy for her to sit on.  Back to reality.

What I remember most vividly from the dream was floating on that blue rubber raft around the city, feeling safe and a little disconnected from reality.  Just floating but with camera in hand.  Some of the other things that happened made sense from conversations I’d had during the day, though it was weird to have them strung together.  But the weirdest thing at all was the connection with the VA rector.  Though now that I think about it, I’m just below the weight where I was when the abuse started.

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Weird Dream

Dreams PosterI was very busy in my dream last night and it directly reflected my TV viewing earlier in the day (Last Holiday and home decorating shows on HGTV).

I had a plane ticket in my hand to go to Europe (I’m not exactly sure where).  It was an American Airlines ticket but somehow it was one of those “code share” things that had another airline’s codes on it.  I was running around excited, packing and getting ready to leave.  Suddenly the scene shifted and I was standing in front of a mirror crying because I was alone and had no man in my life (something that I don’t usually notice at all).  Doug Wilson from TLC appeared behind me to give me a hug and whispered that my next trip we would go to Cambridge, England together.  Why, I have no idea.  But hey, Doug, if you read this?  I’m up for it.

Shift again and I look at my ticket and realize I need to get to the airport.  But when I do arrive, the American Airlines people tell me that the ticket isn’t for one of their flights at all (even though their name was on it) and I had something like 35 min. to change to the International Terminal, clear security, find my gate, and depart.  Like that was going to happen.

I scrambled outside and went into this weird race with shuttle buses and subway stations that only went away from my destination, and clearly it took more than 35 min. to get there but when I finally did, the flight had just left.

Moral of the story — go to Cambridge on my own, reconfirm my tickets, and leave plenty of time to get to the airport!


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Shopping and Other Heavy Thoughts

I’m having a hard time right now living in my body.  My knee hurts a lot and I actually bought a folding cane this week to have in case I need it.  I’ve been aware of my size and feeling uncomfortable physically but also in my head as I see myself in a mirror or think about the fact that finding clothes that fit and actually look pretty is usually an exercise in futility.

Today’s outting to do that ended in a little mini-meltdown at the Avenue over a display of sweaters that were too long, too ugly, and not in my size.  I’m not desperate enough to buy just something to cover me – but I do need some new things because the clothes from last fall are snug around the hips.

The right solution is to magically adhere to a food plan, watch the weight drop off, and skip happily into the future as a thin person. But that’s not happening.  Right now I’m hanging on by my teeth to staying in one place on the scale.  The idea of working the WW plan just seems to have a reverse response in that I start sabotaging myself as soon as I try.  So I’m not.

There’s a difference between being fat and accepting that you will always be fat even though there are health and other issues associated with it, and being fat and trying to change it.  I’m somewhere in the middle between them right now, I think.  I’m really really tired of defining myself as my body size.  And I also want to be able to accept myself in this body size without turning that into a decision to stay at this supersize forever.

Many of you have suggested/recommended/advised that I get some therapy help.  And I do understand where that comes from.  I am making the choice not to.  Twice before when I asked for help from someone in a therapy role, I was abused, once physically and once emotionally.  I’m not going there again.  Instead I’m going to listen to my friend Amy in Hawaii, who is the most positive person I know.  She’s focused on living her dreams, not dwelling on the things that get in the way.

I don’t even know what my dreams are anymore; I’ve been too focused on my body and not my heart.  It’s time to pay attention and ask myself some questions.

UPDATE — Head over to Beula’s Dear Ethel site and read Friday’s post on Self Respect. Great list!


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If you had billions of dollars

… how would you spend your days?

This is a question about spending time, not spending money. If money was out of the equation and needs were being met, how would you choose to spend your time?

Someone asked me this today and my brain hasn’t been able to think of anything. I don’t have even little dreams let alone big ones — no quest to write the Great American Novel, or travel the world, or join the Peace Corps and work in Africa. It’s pretty sad that I don’t know but it’s an opportunity for me to think about what matters and is fulfilling on the inside.

Do you know what you would do?