I woke too early. It's my day off and my children are with their dad today, so I was hoping for a good 8 to 10 hours but am only granted six. Upon waking I am greeted with a fearsome vision -- kind of a nightmare where I'm partially awake. I gain alertness as the vision increases in it's horror. And by the climax of it, I am fully awake -- though paralyzed from shock and sickness.
Awake in my bed I try to redirect the end of the nightmarish vision. With my right hand on my heart, my left on my solar plexus -- the chakra of personal power -- I perform Reiki on myself. I always have these violent visions when I'm feeling out of control in my life.
But I am in control right now, I promise myself. I can stand the time apart. It can be fulfilling. I know it can. And the rewards at the end are priceless. The rewards: My heart held in suspended love forever. Living and breathing my wholeness, sharing my forever with my N. My gorgeous, perfect-for-me N, who whispers, "I'm here with you," whenever I am sad or scared. My darling. My lover. The Air I Breathe.
So, yes. I am in control.
I'm thrown off kilter for the next hour and a half while I write in my journal in bed and soothe myself with all my loving memories of N.
His brown hands, his heat, his passion, his voice, his love, his tenderness, his laugh -- the real one, not the chuckle. The way his foot jiggles, the way he says 'vitamin,' the way he dances, the ways he takes care of me, his dreams that he's careful to keep inside himself now, the black hat he wears, that he shares everything he has with me -- his furniture, his advice, his milkshake, his money, his love. I feel safe with him.
I sneeze twice, acknowledge my hunger, and decide -- upon getting out of bed at 7:30am -- that I refuse to let any funk attach itself to me. It was just a dream. Even though I was awake during most of it. It was just a dream. A nightmare.
I still struggle with shame from time to time regarding these 'visions.' Strictly because they happen while I'm awake, I feel like somehow I cause them. But that's not true. I know that because they only sneak upon me when I'm feeling overwhelmed and out of control, weak, and they always have to do with some violent horrible fear. It's always myself or someone I love getting hurt or dying.
I also know they aren't my fault -- that I don't cause them -- because they started happening when I was so young. 13. And, because I know my son is suffering from them now, too. Maybe from the divorce? Maybe from his anxiety-producing sensory processing disorder? And he's ten. He's not doing that to himself. He's not bringing it on himself. And I'm not bringing it on myself.
So. My day will now continue.
But I need to take my thyroid meds first. Then wait 30 minutes for better absorption of the meds.
I swallow my pill and look around my room at the little tokens of love N’s given me. A heart shaped box. A gold fabric bag. His bed. :)
In the kitchen, I collect papers meant for the desk, decide against coffee this morning and opt for a Lotus Chai -- another gift from him.
It's 7:47a.m. I rinse out a tea mug from yesterday and put on water to boil. I gather the tea things. I'm standing in the kitchen with bare feet, and a black and white striped button-down shirt of N's I often wear to sleep in. While I wait, I empty the dishwasher. And then while I wait for the tea to cool, I take my supplements: multi-vitamin and calcium -- chewable, because if I don't, I throw up; vitamin D -- liquid -- because I do get tired of swallowing pills, after all. Vitamin C (one capsule), because I don't feel too out of balance in the health department (otherwise I'd be taking two); and Iron (two capsules) because I'm bleeding in my cycle right now, and I'm anemic according to my last blood test.
I push the chair in that my son left out yesterday, and put his cloth napkin in the dirty clothes. I take a sip of tea and settle into the couch with my journal, spying the jewelry I left out on the coffee table from last night, and the next book club book I'm bound to read. I have roughly three weeks to read it. I don't know how I'll manage it.
It's non-fiction -- which I actually really enjoy reading -- and is actually on a topic I find interesting ... but it seems the last few books I've read were non-fiction, and I've started a novel that is begging me back. So I have three weeks to battle off the desire to read "The Death of Vishnu", read "You Just Don't Understand: Men and Women in Conversation" instead, and also attend a writer's conference this weekend.
Another sip of tea and I turn on my computer to see if I've any new messages in the last seven hours.
I smile at my bra and kurti on the sofa, and the memory of N saying I was like a little child taking my clothes off whenever and whenever I wanted.
A text from N: Good morning, whachaupto.
My answer: Reading blogs about writing, getting excited about the conference, and drinking tea.
I don't tell him about the nightmare.
Spent an hour surfing the internet, made more tea, ate a banana, N called me on his lunch break, and we talked for about twenty minutes. Awww. <3
Wasted wwwaaayyy too much time on the internet, (but it’s my day off!) and ran some errands – one of which was getting a wireless router from Goodwill. We'll see what it does.
When I got home, N was waiting for me on Skype. <3 We chatted and shared links and laughed about "you Americans and your sweets" while he was eating a cupcake. :) After we hung up from our video chat session, my landlord came by to tell of parking lot resurfacing and fixed my wobbly doorknob.
Then I watched a movie: "Plan B" -- great Spanish movie.
I decided, at 9pm, that I hadn't eaten anything but fruit, yogurt and cinnamon rolls today, so I made myself a bowl of brown rice, black beans, salsa, and cheddar cheese. mmmm.... protein. Oh. Also Mango-Orange-Banana juice.
I paid bills. Ug. Back to nothing again, and it's only the 3rd of the month. Talk about living on the edge.
Tomorrow is Bhangra Dance, work, and a little girl's birthday potluck at a friend's house. I'll stay a little while, and then get home to pack for my long weekend trip. Wednesday night=conference prep.
Thursday morning=load van, last minute 'anythings', go pay my daughter's tuition, work, gas up van -- with the last of the money for awhile -- and head to Portland.
Return from conference and our regular scheduled programming on Sunday afternoon night -- with a teeny chance of that extending until Monday morning, depending on my visit with may uncle and cousin.
I'd like to bring my uncle a token gift for hosting me. I don't know anything about him.
What should I get him?
And now it is midnight. Time for me to close my eyes. I'll head off and brush my teeth, and I'm so tired right now that I don't have that empty-bed-sadness. Also. No funk. All Day. So, good for me!
I can do it! <3
I love my N!
He makes everything better.
Just his presence. Just him being alive.
Huh. :) Just for a moment there, I smelled him in the living room. Not his cologne scent, but him.
Maybe he's dreaming of me right now.
In New Jersey.