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Update: suicidal ideation, hospital (again), writing and healing

I get extremely vivid dreams which allow me to experience things I haven’t experienced in my life. I see it as part of my gift of being an empath or highly sensitive person. Today, during my nap, I dreamt of dissociating so badly I lost my hearing. This is a documented thing, as this paper writes about, however I believe it is fairly rare. I sometimes lose my voice when dissociated but never my hearing. There were people around me; they were packing up and selling a house or shop I owned. No one understood what was going on with me. I kept trying to stop them from touching certain fragile belongings, such as my glasses. I didn’t know how loud I was speaking and shouting. I was extremely distressed, and wished someone would get me some help. Then I saw my friend who has a severe dissociative disorder where he also loses his hearing. I was so relieved as he was the only one who got it. He sat me on his lap and I calmed down. I knew the deafness was only transitory and this brought me some reassurance.

I’m not sure how to interpret this dream. Is there something the universe is trying to tell me but I refuse to listen to it? A theme of this dream was people doing things to me, not with me. I immediately think of my psychologist. It is Monday, the day I would usually see her. She told me once that houses in dreams represent the body. It is as though this trauma is not just emotional but also physical. My mind and body feels like it’s going through withdrawal. I am the house, and people are packing me up to sell to somebody else. That’s what it feels like my psychologist has been doing. Packing me up to get rid of me. Continue reading “Update: suicidal ideation, hospital (again), writing and healing”

Grief: a rollercoaster

““I thought this was more,” I whispered low, 
Hoping he’d stay, hoping he’d show. 
But his response, like a dagger, cut deep, 
“No one stays, my dear, not in this world .”

With those words, reality crashed in, 
My heart shattered, my hopes pinned. 
For what we shared was just a game, 
A situationship, without a name.”

Poestoryporium, ‘Whispers of Love’

I don’t know if it’s fully sunk in that my psychologist, my confident, has left me. Whenever something happens in my life- good or bad- I automatically turn to her. I go to write her an email, or I store it in a little bottle in my mind for our next session, only to remember that she is gone. It really does feel like a nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from. I never thought she would leave me and I’d have to go through this hell all over again. I thought she was different. I trusted her. Now she has left me with what I can only liken to phantom limb syndrome. Continue reading “Grief: a rollercoaster”

Dark Night of the Soul

“I am tattered, I am tired I am worn and uninspired. They say You don’t give us more than we can handle, but I’m right on the edge.” Sparrows Rising – Father Help Me

Life likes to beat me when I’m already on the ground. As if losing my psychologist of four years wasn’t enough, I am now locked out of my Facebook account. It says the password is incorrect. Then I select the option to get a code sent to my email address to reset my password. Sometimes I don’t even get an email, and when I do get the code and type it in it says “The number that you’ve entered doesn’t match your code. Please try again.” I have gone round and round in circles it is maddening. Apparently Facebook crashed recently, but most people have been able to get their accounts back already.

I don’t know why the universe is doing this to me. Maybe it is a harsh way of getting me to shed all that is no longer serving me, like the leaves on the trees will soon start to fall as autumn arrives. I was actually thinking recently of deactivating my Facebook account. I don’t like supporting a platform that is run by robots and suppresses freedom of speech. I also felt the need to withdraw as I grieve my psychologist, or the person I thought she was anyway. But I was addicted to Facebook. It feels like all my coping mechanisms are being ripped away from me. Continue reading “Dark Night of the Soul”

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