Oh, thanks Penny! I have been feeling alot lately like I need to add disclaimers to everything I say. I am so glad you understood.
And I agree with you... I do not feel at all like telling our stories is to dwell on the past, but just as you say - a way to make it coherent, and cohesive, too, I think... to own it. There are so many bits and pieces of me still floating around willy nilly, I know that's why I still use so many ... ... I am not yet still enough to write a narrative.
What Ami said about making room for healing registers with me, too. I can feel that in myself as I release shame... and smoking was a huge source of that. I could not justify taking care of myself in other ways as long as I knew that I was killing myself with that smoke.
I'd take vitamins and do some other good things, but it was halfhearted. Often I picture my hands as being clenched tightly in fists around a crumpled wad of old rubbish. My object lesson in this is the memory of me as a compulsive perfectionist, regularly flitting from room to room on one of my cleen sweeps, straightening this and that, picking up loads of stuff in the process and not slowing down long enough to rid my hands of any of it... to the point where I'd stand helpless with no room to pick up another single item. It was really pathetic. I can't carry it all. That stopped one day when I just dropped it all into a heap in the middle of the room and sat down and cried.
Need to do that same thing with all this emotional junk, once the barbs are unhooked from my brain.
Oh, I thought that dysphoria was just plain old depression (that's what I get for using psychospeak!)
Having looked it up, I see that it's a sort of restless, anxious depression... maybe a different variety.
I think it's a good thing that you're open to thinking of sad things, Penny. For the first time in my life, I am beginning to not feel ashamed to be a bit sorry for myself. So far, so good.. although I am a bit more babbly than usual, it seems. But I feel released from so much garbage. Not so stuck.
I'm sorry your husband wasn't home as you'd both planned... that is sad. I guess God figured you needed this time alone to sift.
((((((Penny)))))) I am sure He is looking out for you with both eyes open and both arms outstretched to you.
Your boss sounds like a kook... umm... what'd he do, rob the Good Humor truck on his way in to work? How odd!
I'd like to think he meant well... but shakin my head over here, too.
On the other hand, ice cream sounds pretty good about now.
Good night, dear Penny. Thank you for talking... while you're sleeping... I am glad to be able to hear
Love,
Carolyn
