#I woke up at 4am from a nightmare and haven’t been able to fall back asleep due to chronic overthinking and stress | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paradoxesofgalaxies · 5 years

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And the strange dreams/nightmares continue....

So, not only is our sleep schedule all wonky (like not being able to fall asleep until after 4am), but we continue to have exceptionally vivid and unnerving dreams.

Last night’s was so freaking strange and unsettling and so much happened in it.

Towards the beginning, two DID youtubers made an appearance which was pretty cool. Like, they were just hanging out with us at our place along with our partner.

But then, in the dream, our grandma was still alive but much more frail and withered than she ever was in life. Like, skeletal thin and shrunken. Almost monster like. And I don’t remember the specifics but I remember feeling so much guilt and trying to help her but at the same time struggling to do so.

Then, not sure if like we woke up in-between or something, but in a different part of the dream, our abusive ex made an appearance.

We haven’t had any contact with him in 7 or 8 years, and in the dream it was present-day-ish and he came to our house to talk.

And there were so many different feelings, but what I think was the most difficult part was that an alter who still holds positive feelings towards him was present in the dream so while I remember the dream, it’s colored by their view of him which is really hard to cope with. Like, they found him quite attractive and were happy to see him while there was also the distress and fear and anger felt by other parts present.

In the dream, he apologized to an extent for what he had done which was bittersweet and makes it hard to classify the dream as a nightmare even though there was still so much pain and fear in the dream.

And the last part of the dream involved our partner somehow acquiring a komodo dragon, though, it only vaguely resembled a real life komodo dragon. It was a very rotund dragon that we found out had some sort of spinal defect that was going to require a lot of extra care so the last parts of the dream involved convincing my partner that we needed to find someone else to adopt him who was able to care for him properly.

So, yeah, super strange dreams last night that have left us feeling all sorts of unsettled and disoriented today.

Seeing our ex through the eyes of a part that still cares for him was so freaking hard because it is such a stark contrast to how many of the rest of us feel.

Though, it’s helped me understand some things from our past better.

Like, looking back at things that happened during the time we were with him through the new(ish) understanding that we are system helps to make sense of our behavior so much more.

Like, apparently, about eight months before we left him for good, one of us broke up with him, but a week later we got back together. (I still don’t remember most of this time period and have yet to make contact with the parts that do, so this is all pieced together from writings and things we’ve been told).

And I could never understand how we could have gotten back together with him after realizing he had raped us, but, it makes so much more sense now realizing that these were most likely different parts acting without full consciousness of each other.

Similarly, I have fond, though vague, recollections about another guy we dated who was a lovely and intriguing person. And, it turns out, we were dating this guy while also with our ex (and from what I’m aware of, ex knew about this). But it’s so strange to realize these things were going on at the same time. Like, I feel like those were two completely different times in our life, but I guess that’s just because it was likely different alters dating each of them which is why it feels so disparate.

So, yeah, starting to unpack some things and make sense of things a bit more, even if I haven’t been able to make contact with the parts involved yet.

#actuallydissociative #actuallytraumagenic #trauma nightmares #system stuff #nightmares #abuse tw #rape tw #long post #galactic gab #rowen rants

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level3bird · 7 years

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the synapse gang

I backed my car into one of my spousal unit’s bicycles this morning in the garage. The bike fared very well with no noticeable damage; the car, unfortunately, got a small dent and a 4” scratch on the rear hatch door. I am not pleased. Our car is only a little over a year old and has less than 7900kms (4900 miles) on it. We’ve kept it new as and now I’m aggravated.

Ugh. Do over please.

I also woke up craving carbs.

This is only day 2 of the new HFLC eating plan that we’re due to be on indefinitely. After being diagnosed with liver disease and told that I must do something drastic if I want to reverse it (while I still can), it was suggested by my lovely doctor that I go low carb. A medical suggestion that struck fear into this little processed-foods loving soul. I’m the girl with the “I never met a carbohydrate I didn’t like” fridge magnet. So, seriously?

Nevertheless, because I don’t want to die early and sick like my mother did and I don’t want to be diabetic and I’d like to have more energy and less inflammation in all my joints, here I am measuring macros and avoiding carbs like they are cocaine.

Actually, I think avoiding carbs is harder than avoiding cocaine. At least, for me, sugar and carbs have proven to be stronger adversaries than all the pearly powder I lived to ingest. I mean, I am an emotional/comfort/boredom eater and I have consumed sugar and flour and processed white foods like it was my job. And I’ve got to eat, right?

I know there is also a psychological component that is most likely much more powerful than the physical component. Although, I can attest to a physical component as well. I’m sure some of you can relate to the low sugar vapours that you get when you haven’t had your crystalline fix. As such, I’m sure that the carb flu is on its way and from a physical perspective, I’ll have to hunker down to not spontaneously combust over this sugar detox business.

As for the psychological part of it, Jesus take the wheel! I’m reciting the Serenity Prayer on the regular and hoping that I’ll find a Sponsor who’ll be able to put up with my flavour of crazy. It’s complicated.

Last week, as part of the “Observation” phase of the Real Meal Revolution, the HFLC program I’m due to be on for at least a year, I tracked all that I ate and was surprised/not surprised to learn that I was eating about 10-15x the amount of carbohydrates a day that I should be. My macros basically came out to “all carbs, all the time.” I am a fiend for white powders, go figure.

I’ve known that I’ve had disordered eating for quite some time, but haven’t wanted to really look at the causes or the consequences of it. It has been easy to be in denial about it. I’m 5’11” and a corn-fed country girl and I’ve always carried the excess weight relatively well. And despite having been told by a prisoner when I worked as a guard at TDCJ that I looked like I could wrestle bears, I really haven’t had an issue with my size. Yes, I’m not thrilled I’m a size 22 (be happy to be a size 14/16 though), but I’ve always thought that fluffy was sexy and my beloved hasn’t ever complained about the curves.

So, it wasn’t really my Rubenesque size that threw the switch. It was science, first, and getting honest with myself, second. The results from the medical tests were confronting, the achy joints were bothersome and the getting out of breath easily was concerning, but it was the inability to stop turning to food for comfort that really got my attention. It was the constant ‘how do I avoid any feelings, for fuck’s sake I need an Aero Mint Chocolate bar or I might die’ moments that left me with no doubt that I’m as addicted to carbohydrates/sugar/super processed foods as much so, if not more, than I was addicted to cocaine and benzos.

Everything revolves around changing the way I’m feeling or avoiding having feelings. I couldn’t be more textbook if I tried. The shit gets real and I want to shove a lot of shitty food right in my pie-hole to numb me. Of course, I’ve ignored the obvious for a long time because I had the fallback position that at least I wasn’t hoovering up the Bolivian Marching Powder anymore or spending three/four days a week sat at a pill mill waiting for the beautiful trifecta.

This HFLC business is going to be a challenge, but I think, I hope, that I am up for it. And where I am lacking, I will throw myself into the program of Narcotics Anonymous to help me help myself. I know that addiction, a soul sickness that I have/had, is the problem and the rest is commentary on the problem. No different than the spending or the need for this tablet or that tablet or a few tablets to get me to sleep at night. It is all much of a muchness for someone like me.

The dots connect easily enough when you have no coping skills to fall back on or when you’re able to rank your various traumas on a scale of ‘that’s shit’ to ‘scorched earth’. Not an excuse, only an observation.

I woke about 4am this morning from a nightmare. It was one of those theme dreams that I periodically have - me and my father in some huge argument over something, raised voices, mean words, violence on the horizon. In this dream, I was in public, out on some type of outdoor plaza and there were lots of folks around and my father was reading me the riot act. In the dream, he was shouting so loud and saying the cruellest things, as he usually did in real life. I was being kicked out of my house or berated for being a shit parent or something like that. There are always variations on this dream, but they all follow the same general plot and I wake up stressed off my tits in a panic, feeling like I need to run, to get away.

I’ve had enough of them over the years that, fortunately, when they happen now, I wake up, have a look around, reach out and touch my husband and ground myself. I repeat a little mantra in my head that my beloved started back when the PTSD and nightmares were a holy terror – I say my address to myself. Tim used to calm me down when I was having the panic or the tears or just slipping away into dissociation by asking me where I was right at that moment. His point, I suppose, was to bring me back out of wherever it was that I’d disappeared to and to make me feel secure in the present moment where there wasn’t a threat or a traumatic memory. It still helps. I was able to get up and get some water and go back to sleep with little fanfare.

The thing is, it is all connected. The nightmare, the carb cravings, the overwhelming feelings of loserdom that washed over me when I dinged the car. The little librarian in charge of the card catalogue of my mind is so adept at running through the file drawers in nano-seconds to be able to flag every incident where I’ve felt powerless, worthless, like an idiot or a failure. She can flag all the memories of fear and of violence, of need and desperation. And it is as if there is an invisible string connecting these associated memories and they are tied to the simplest of daily events and when something happens, like me bumping the car into the bike in the garage, the string is suddenly pulled tight and up goes every memory, strung across my mind like an evil version of Tibetan prayer flags.

I’ve always thought of it like my synapses were ganging up on me. Which is a logical observation. Unfortunately, when it happens, the dreaded ‘feelings’ occur and those are what I wish to avoid at all cost. I’m having to learn all over again how to sit with them and let them pass. It is not my strong suit.

Those unwanted feelings and their causative memories are the rallying cry to activate my addictions. And I think they are why I need a program for living, which for me, needs to be the 12-steps.

Working a program gives me a view as to how I get overwhelmed and how things devolve into chaos. It can give me the good sense to realise that my best intentions and well-laid plans don’t really and haven’t really worked for me. The steps show me that I need to be able to let go of the death grip I’ve always had on trying to control the uncontrollable – those things I cannot change. Working the steps and going to meetings keep me level and sane. I hear other people share their experiences and I see myself in them and I feel less alone. I listen to the way other people have dealt with the situations that vex me and that gives me an opportunity to try things another way. Going to Narcotics Anonymous helps me to get and stay honest with myself, gives me the tools I need to clear away the flotsam and jetsam so that I can see myself and my actions with clarity. Because, without that, I can’t make things better. I see my part in it all and the way I contribute to the festering of old wounds instead of the repair and healing of them.

And, if nothing else, it gives me hope that there is hope for me yet. It plants a flag in front of me that bears promises:

We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.

We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.

We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.

No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.

That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.

We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.

Self-seeking will slip away.

Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.

Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.

We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

We will suddenly realize that [our Higher Power] is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

The program assures me, put in the work, and your life can be good, it can be (as they say) happy, joyous and free.

And I need to be reminded of that, especially when the Synapse Gang gets on my tail.

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til-i-feel-whole-again · 7 years

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the synapse gang

Ugh. Do over please.

I also woke up craving carbs.

Those unwanted feelings and their causative memories are the rallying cry to activate my addictions. And I think they are why I need a program for living, which for me, needs to be the 12-steps.

And, if nothing else, it gives me hope that there is hope for me yet. It plants a flag in front of me that bears promises:

We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.

We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.

We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.

No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.

That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.

We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.

Self-seeking will slip away.

Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.

Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.

We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

We will suddenly realize that [our Higher Power] is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

The program assures me, put in the work, and your life can be good, it can be (as they say) happy, joyous and free.

And I need to be reminded of that, especially when the Synapse Gang gets on my tail.

#addiction #recovery #12-steps #Narcotics Anonymous

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dessideriium · 7 years

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A story that takes place at night

In which writer pj comes back from the 2016 grave to deliver a story every week.

I haven’t done anything today. Correction. I have done nothing productive this day. I, myself, do not think it’s humanely possible to just sit all day staring at the ceiling, thinking about immortality. I spent all day busying myself with very inane and mechanical tasks that took over my human ability to think for myself, not just shut my brain and work on autopilot. Among other inane things like channel surfing and watching movies with my dog Ally, I also walked Ally (we took a different route and she loved sniffing all the new plants and streets and the scent of the animals that previously marked their territory), and did the groceries. Only for tomorrow though.

And I napped. I hadn’t taken a nap since last year, so naturally, I felt refreshed when I woke up, like a new person. The only problem was that upon gazing at the clock, I noticed I’d slept all afternoon, evening and even part of the night. I woke up nearly at 11pm.

I didn’t process the darkness surrounding me as I opened my eyes. I must have thought that the night was just starting when I picked up my phone and its screen glowed upon my face, because I could only think that I would just check the time and fall back to sleep. But I saw the clock marking 11:20 pm and barely reacted. I got out of bed yawning and stretching as carelessly as Ally, blinked at my surrounding and shuffled to the bathroom. There, I washed my face and emptied my bladder. After I flushed, Ally came to me crying and started jumping and clinging to my leg. I’d slept all day so she must have been starving. I went to the kitchen, followed by a desperate Ally and I filled her plate with her dog, and before I’d placed her plate on the floor, she was already jumping for it.

11:30pm

After feeding Ally, I realized I wasn’t feeling groggy anymore and worried that I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Then I quickly brushed it away. I just needed to watch a couple of videos or a movie (a boring one) to tire myself and pass out. I’d never had problems sleeping before, and as soon as I remembered that, I was at ease. I grabbed my laptop and went to bed. I called Ally to come to bed with me, but she stopped at her makeshift bed near mine where she curled up into a ball, meaning she was going to sleep.

The sight of her curling into a small fur ball, which always melts my heart a little, deflated me this time. I sighed and brushed it away; realizing that fixing her sleeping schedule was more difficult than fixing mine

I opened my laptop and turned it on, waited for a while and then opened my browser. I didn’t know what I was in the mood for watching so first I thought I could watch a couple of videos, maybe there’d be some updates on my favorite creators….which there was. I smiled and clicked on one video, then another one, then the site suggested me more videos related to this one. A creator I hadn’t heard from in a while uploaded something and it filled me nostalgia, so I had to watch a couple of their older videos. Soon, I was laughing so hard I’d forgotten about the fact that I’d slept all day and that I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep in a long while. I’d also forgotten about Ally sleeping in the same room as me. Luckily, I didn’t wake her up. That dog’s sleep can be deeper than mine, I always have to check if she’s still breathing.

1:30am

My stomach startled grumbling so I checked the time. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was so late, but a little worried that after two hours I wasn’t getting any tired. In fact, I had just as much energy as I did when I ate my breakfast this morning. I told myself to give up on sleep for one night and got up to the kitchen. There, I grabbed from the refrigerator a package of frozen pizza I’d bought that day and heated it on the microwave. I accompanied it with a glass of coke and went back to my room.

I didn’t feel like watching any more videos, so I searched up for a movie. On the browser, I typed the name of this site that lets you watch movies and series online for free, and checked what new movies they had. I scrolled through the site’s catalogue as I ate my pizza, but I found nothing that appealed to me at that moment. I tried not to eat the entire pizza (it was a portion for one anyways), but I didn’t want it to get cold, so I finished it before ever finding something to watch.

Pizza was over and I was still hungry. As I passed in front of Ally to go to the kitchen again, I noticed her slightly moving her paws. I wanted to shake it, but then I would wake her up, so I carried on my way. At the kitchen, I didn’t find anything I wanted to eat and I wasn’t about to cook something at 2 in the morning. That meant dirty dishes, which I tried to avoid whenever I could. The only other solution was to go out and buy something to eat. I had money, a car, a good reason, and more importantly; energy.

I got on my car and drove around until I found an open McDonalds, where I ordered a big hamburger, fried and soda combo. I paid for my food and munched on the fries on my way back home, rekindling my love for them. Maybe I should have ordered an extra portion. I considered it for a while as I drove. Once again, I meditated. I had the money, the car, a good reason, and the energy, so I returned to the McDonalds and got myself another big portion of fries.

Worried that the smell of meat might somehow wake up Ally, I brought my computer to the kitchen, closed my bedroom’s door, and watched a couple more videos as I ate. Officially, I’d declared this, the best food I’ve had in months.

3:45am

After eating, I looked at my surroundings and noticed I started to blink heavily. I knew I couldn’t fall sleep right now, though. I’d just eaten a lot of food and going to sleep after that provoked nightmares, which I obviously preferred to avoid, so I tried to busy myself somehow. I cleaned the kitchen a bit, even inside those narrow sectors and upper cabinets, the top of the pantry and the refrigerator and mopped the floor. Now this kitchen could survive a month or two with a cleanup like this one.

I went to my bathroom and brushed my teeth. As I returned to my room, I checked my phone and saw I had a message from my girlfriend, Aria.

“Are you awake?” The message was sent an hour ago. There was also a missed phone call from over an hour ago.

I rang her phone and she picked up after the third ring.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t answer, did something happen?” I asked.

She just mumbled something unintelligible and then hung up. I chuckled because she has that habit of sounding like a real baby when she’s dead tired. Aria likes to stay up until very late at night. We’re polar opposites on that aspect. I’m a morning bird, and she’s the night owl. Not tonight though.

I was back to being a bored person with a full stomach and also full of energy. It was past 4am already, so I decided it was time to do something useful. I went to my small library and picked up my economics book. I didn’t really have homework or a test coming up (thankfully), but during the last two classes I’d been somewhat lost, so the plan was to try to understand it from the book, my notes and some help from the internet.

5:00am

I’d already lost track of time, but I was ninety nine percent sure I would have to ask someone for help with this. Our teacher had a special method for teaching this new topic, so the procedure I wrote down on my notes and the procedure that the book and the people on the internet explain are not the same. Frustrated, I scratched my head thinking who I could ask for help. I also cursed myself for skipping that class about a month ago, where the teacher probably began explaining the motive for my torture on a Sunday (Monday already) night at— I checked my phone, 5:12am.

Then it hit me. Yes, I did know a girl in that class who I could approach to for tutoring. She wasn’t my friend, exactly, but I’d talked to her in the past. Now I just had to ask her and pray she’s available for explaining this topic to me before the next economics class. She was also in my statistics class, which we had tomorrow, so I would ask her then. I slapped the book closed. Problem solved. (Hopefully)

5:30am

Finally, I yawned. This time I knew I had to give in. I blinked rapidly for about thirty seconds because I heard before that it makes your eyelids tired, therefore, sending you to sleep more quickly. They don’t tell you it can be dizzying, though. As I finished blinking, indeed with my eyes a bit more tired, I turned off my computer, picked up my book, notebook, and pencil from my bed, and placed them all on my couch.

When I was on my bed, I texted Aria saying that I’d returned her call but she was already fast asleep. I told her that I hadn’t been able to sleep up until now and that I’d be going to sleep now and that I’d call her when I woke up.

I checked my phone one last time and let out a sigh in defeat because I realized that soon Ally would wake up and cry to be taken outside to the bathroom.

#story #pj writes #52 stories #not the best plot and now i realized i could have made some things more interesting but....i accept my mistakes in writing and...#i'll try to correct them with the next stories....

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