This is day one of giving my subconscious a VOICE. I usually have very detailed and vivid dreams, but I woke up today sweaty but not in the middle of something. I listened to my guided imagery last night, so that might have helped. Last night/morning, I dreamt I was driving a really nice, red sports car, but I couldn’t control it. The brakes didn’t work sometimes, and sometimes they were VERY sensitive. The steering was the same way. I kept thinking how great it was that I had this fantastic car, but damned if I could drive it. Seemed like a pretty accurate metaphor for my life. I have a great life, my dream life in a lot of ways, but I often feel out of control and that it’s not quite working because I can’t get it to do what I want it to do. I’m afraid of crashing and destroying the whole thing. I want to reach into my mind and see what is going on in there. There is a primordial soup of pain and fear and longing that wants to get out. I want it to get out. I had a vision a while ago, in EMDR, of these feelings growing out my back into large, beautiful wings, anchored in my body by a core of strength and resilience that came from my earlier experiences. The wings are kind of a dirty white, almost grey, but they are stunning and gorgeous and strong, and they can do what I couldn’t do when I was a kid- strike back with incredible force or fly me out of there. My rats are like little envoys from that place inside me that the wings grew out of. They are creatures of survival, smart, clever, resourceful, adaptable, resilient, but also full of personality. They are funny, sweet, loving, social, and curious. They survive, but that’s not all they are. They are strong and persistent, but also cute and sweet. They are my spirit animal. We understand each other. A rat in human form has wings though. My therapist thought my superhero power was holding all the pain and anguish and despair of my childhood away from me, but my superhero power IS that pain and anguish and despair. It’s what my strength grows out of. It’s the primordial soup of my life.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
It's a hard knock life
I've got to a point with sleep that I just can't stand it anymore. I haven't been able to get up in the morning; my subconscious won't release me. I talked to my therapist about it, and we talked about what was going on for me when I woke up. She made some suggestions, everything from getting a coffee maker with a timer so it would smell like fresh brewed coffee when I woke up to writing first thing in the morning so I can access the things in my subconscious that are trying to get out in my dreams/flashbacks. JW helped me pick out a coffee maker last night after we had an anniversary dinner (since our anniversary on Tuesday I was on a plane back from NY and he was working). He cuddled me to sleep last night, and then I threw on my PTSD guided imagery mp3's for good measure. I set the alarm for 5:30 am, and woke up by 6 am (I am capable of hitting the snooze for hours so 30 minutes is fantastic) feeling great. I got some coffee and cereal (always ravenous in the morning) and wrote this: