Then, people started coming into the apartment, one after another. All of them said they had a good reason to be there, and I didn't want to step on Tom's toes, so I said nothing. Then, Tom left. That's when I realized I was dreaming. I stood on top of the coffee table and yelled, "This is my dream! All of you, get the fuck out! Tom, get your ass back here!" And they did. And he did. The rest of the dream was, well, just what you'd expect.
It was my ridiculous fangirl-crush dream! How dare all these other people take it away? I think the random people that filled up Tom's apartment represented my fears and anxieties, and all the little thoughts that come up during periods of depression that destroy my will to do anything. Usually, I let those thoughts crowd out anything good. In this dream, I told them to fuck off. I think this lucid dream is a really good sign. I think it means that I just may be turning the corner on this bout of depression.
The details of the dream don't matter. What matters is that I realize that I have the capacity to take control of my own thoughts and not let them trample on my happiness. All of those random people are thoughts like, "It hurts to much. What if I get too tired? What if I have a panic attack? I can't go out today. It's too bright. It's too hot. It's too loud. There might be people I don't know." On and on and on. I need to realize in my conscious state that I have the power to tell all those thoughts to take a hike. I can enjoy my life. I can get what I want.
This is the second day in a row I've gotten out of the house. Matt is at therapy right now, and he dropped me off at Panera. I didn't have to come with him, but I decided to do so, and this is more than I could have done a week ago. Last night, Matt and I spent time with friends we rarely get to spend time with, and I was okay through the whole thing. I considered it an accomplishment. I think it helps that Matt helped me rearrange my room. I also smudged my room with sage, and re-dedicated my altar. I think it helped to get a lot of the stale energy out so that new stuff can come in.
Earlier in the day, I made an appointment with a new therapist at a cognitive behavioral therapy center. I know CBT has worked for me before, and I'm sure it will again. (Seriously, there is only so far inner child work can take me.)
[TMI] I also made an appointment to talk to my gynecologist about an IUD. It's clear to me, now, that the sudden urge to procreate was, in large part, a symptom of a manic episode. I hate admitting that, but it's true. However, I don't want to take the drastic measure of tubal ligation yet. I'm trying to strike a balance between the screeching of my biological clock and the practical considerations. It's true, I don't have a lot of time to consider it, but I'm still waiting to see the geneticist, and I obviously can't care for a child when I can't care for myself. Also, do I really want my breasts to get bigger? [/TMI]
I think I should start making lists of my daily accomplishments again, the way I did when my previous therapist used some CBT techniques with me. I also think that I will employ some of what my most recent former therapist impressed on me, and make lists of things I'm grateful for. Of course, I'm grateful for all my accomplishments, because it means that I had the strength to push through pain, depression, fatigue and anxiety to do something positive, so those lists might end up being very similar.
Maybe I should also make a list of things I'd like to accomplish, you know, beyond the normal daily tasks that just make me feel like a somewhat-functioning human being. One of the things on that list is to learn some form of martial art. With my body as screwed up as it is, I don't think I'll be doing Aikdo any time soon, but Tai Chi might be something to consider. I dunno. Just typing out whatever comes into my head for now. I'm not ready to start making hard-and-fast goals like that, yet. Most days, it's still an accomplishment for me to get out of bed, get dressed, and leave the house.
A note about meds: It really doesn't seem like Provigil is doing a damn thing either way. Though it's supposed to be a stimulant, I seem to be able to fall asleep during the day on it just as readily as without it. I don't know, I think I need a new psychiatrist as well. Starting fresh seems to be the theme of recent events in the Life of Morgan.
Anyway, brain, can I please have some more dreams like that? Because, damn.
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