Its mothers day. I spent the night dealing with a sick child and I am exhausted. Of course the child wakes perfectly well and full of energy while I drag myself out of bed. I am tired. I am tired of my life. Tired of being a single parent. Tired watching the sun rise and set. Sick of seasons coming and going. Wish I never existed. I am so broken of a person I feel there are no words to describe. Tired of crying for weeks. What a shitty mother I am. I am not celebrating mothers day today.
“There are those who will say that insisting on gender-neutral books and toys for children is a bizarre experiment in social engineering by radical lefties and paranoid “femininazis” who won’t allow boys to be boys, and girls to be girls. (Because, by the way, seeking equality of rights and opportunities was a key plank of Nazi ideology, was it?) But the “experiment” is nothing new. When I grew up in the 1970s, and when my parents grew up in the 1950s, brothers and sisters shared the same toys, books and games, which came in many more colours than just pink and blue, and there was no obvious disintegration of society as a result. Publishers and toy companies like to say that they are offering parents more “choice” these days by billing some of their products as just for boys and others as just for girls. What they’re actually doing, by convincing children that boys and girls can’t play with each other’s stuff, is forcing parents to buy twice as much stuff.”—Gender-specific books demean all our children. So the Independent on Sunday will no longer review anything marketed to exclude either sex - Comment - Voices - The Independent (via becauseiamawoman)
Dream starts off at “the island” with my family (parents) and my own children. House walls made of cedar and it smells comforting. I descend a steep spiral staircase to leave. It was urgent that I left because a huge snow storm was coming. As I am leaving I see my childhood horse in his old paddock. I turn to my father and say “Is that leiman?” He says that it is. I go to leiman and he is whiter and stronger but I can hear his stomach groaning. He is also grunting and snorting but in a quiet calm way. I say to my father “He is starving- he needs to eat.” My father shrugs and walks off. I find some scraps of hay and feed him. Feelings are the horse is dead despite my efforts. My phone is now receiving many txts and voice-mails from stephen screaming at me to leave right now (its concerned anger.) I go to my jeep and its parked in the road in a very dangerous position where a car coming up the hill would not see it and rear end it. My mother says “Dad got the car all ready for you.” I am afraid to get into the car but the snow is falling faster and the conditions are worsening. Its night. I start to get the kids in the car when a huge truck comes up the hill. I try to move faster but looking in to opposite direction I see another huge truck followed by 2 gigantic snow plows with big round lights. The feeling- trapped, stuck and helpless in this situation which cannot end well. I jump in the car as it is struck by the semi from behind. Ally is in the drivers seat and Dunk is beside me in the passengers. We are pushed into snow- thick icy snow surrounds the car…. I wake up and Ally is driving the car in the poor weather conditions but we are ok…..
I dont know where my kids are but the idea that they were okay and not in danger was there. I walk on the road in bright daylight. Its not snowing but there is snow everywhere. A police man walks ahead of me and with a long stick is poking the snow banks. He pokes a bank and a large chuck of snow falls off revealing a small car with people inside. Looking in the windshield I can see a family with several small children. They are frozen but not yet dead. The windshield was pulled off and snow was inside the vehicle up to their waists. I take off my coat and I scoop up a small child and wrap him warmly. The mother asks me to give the coat to another child because shes smaller. I look over at the baby and its obvious the child had frozen to death. I can’t look back at the mother because my heart is broken for her. Next to the dead child was a dead monkey staring at me. I leave and go to a house where my still broken jeep and children are. I am upset as I arrive because I realize that my phone was in the pocket of the coat I gave the child and now I have no way to contact stephen. The owners of the house are not happy I am there and keep asking me to work on the car to get it going. The starter is dead and I know that. I get the car running and test drive it. The steering wheel is locked and my breaks are gone. I crash. Returning to the house the people are not around except for this guy who is my age and very attractive. My kids are off playing happy somewhere. There are bottles of sour rotting milk all over.
*_*_*_* I’ll leave out the horrific tractor trailer accident I saw because it was weird and didn’t feel like it belonged in the dream - it was like I was watching it from a sky angle or movie angle rather than being in it. Also leaving out the ending of this dream as it gets rather sexual lol.
Google interpretations are:
To see snowstorm in a dream portends frustration, sadness and disappointment.
In some dreams it suggests feeling neglected or ‘left out in the cold’, and occasionally appears in dreams connected with feelings about death.
To dream that you have been rear-ended could mean that something from your past is still impacting you now in some way. You need to learn from the past and acknowledge something that is holding you back in order to move forward.
rescue others represents an aspect of yourself that has been neglected or ignored. You are trying to find a way to express this neglected part of yourself. Alternatively, it symbolizes an subconscious cry for help. Perhaps you are too proud in your waking life to ask for assistance.
To save a child in your dream signifies your attempts to save a part of yourself from being destroyed.
To see a dead baby in your dream symbolizes the ending of something that was once a part of you.
To see in a dream dead monkey leads to successful settlement of the situation, in which you get.
Steering Wheel: Dreams that focus on the steering wheel show you how much control you feel you have in your life and the direction it is taking. Driving a car with a steering wheel that is not working means you are feeling as though you are losing control.
Dreams with car brakes normally have to do with the brake not working efficiently. This usually means that you are doing something that is blocking the achievement of your goals. You are either doing something counter productive or your fears are slowing you down from getting to where you need to be.
(please forgive grammar, spelling and runaway thoughts)The past 2 - almost 3 years have been the most difficult that I think I have ever faced in my short time here on this planet. There has been a lot of healing and growth on my part as a person. I will say moving off “the island” and being on my own away from family has been the starting point of this time period. I have learned a lot. One of the hardest lessons, but by far the most beneficial was falling in love with myself. Quieting that voice of negative self distruction and hatred gave sound to another side of me. A side that I had been searching for all along. The peace and quiet I tapped into with the simple phrase “its okay.” Learning to self soothe and depend on myself. Believe in myself. Perhaps this did devalue relationships with just about everyone in my life as I separated myself emotionally. Only when I realized that I was utterly alone in this world did I stop placing such value on outsiders and their opinions and began to value my inner self. In the end- the lonely bare room of my soul- was all that I had. I looked around the empty, shallow, tattered room of my being- Remnants of previous colors and decor- weathered and broken -represented the person I tried to be based on what was expected of me. Being alone in this broken state gave me the room to discovered who I was and I began to repair and beautify this damaged room.
I became comfortable with the uncomfortable. When I needed confidence and needed to silence my fear I forced myself to face it. To stare it down until it no longer caused a reaction. Standing in front of a glass wall I looked down 6 stories to the lobby below. The height made my head swim and thoughts of falling took over my brain. I could feel my heart beating faster and a my lungs expanding. I felt alive in primordial mammal sense. I stepped back and listened to my body calm and my blood to cool. Then I faced the wall again. I did it repeatedly until there was no more rush of fear. I took that lesson and applied it to driving anxiety, social anxiety and anything that pretty much upset me.
Healing doesn’t mean the pain goes away. Healing for me was learning to deal with the pain and not let it consume me. Accepting what is. My father does not love me. It sucks- I will always have a twinge of heartbreak when I see happy father daughter relationships. It’s ok. It’s not my fault- I did my best but the reality is that I can not make people do anything. I can’t make someone love me. I had to let go. It is ok to fail. I accept my failures whether I was at fault or not. I don’t believe in pride. When I feel defensive I like to pause and reflect on why. Yes- its difficult and uncomfortable. I am learning a lot about myself. Am I a better person? I don’t know. I am a happier and calmer person though.
I have learned to protect myself. I don’t have to be the self- sacrificing person who puts themselves last. I don’t have to invest myself in emotionally draining relationships for the sake of having another person around. I took power away from negative words. They are words- empty and meaningless. I give them power by letting them tear me down. I am better than these negative opinions and I will not absorb the hate, insecurity and anger they are loaded with. It’s not always easy but mentally it is just turning the page. In the end- does any of it matter? What really matters during our short time on this earth.
I do feel like I also have a lot more compassion for people then before. I feel I listen more. Part of me is intrigued to find out what is going on in their brains. I am curious about what they feel. This compassion is a double edged sword at times because I have yet to master the balance between apathy and empathy. Empathy seems to bring pain and apathy leaves me feeling somewhat disconnected from humanity.
I still struggle and my emotions still get the best of me sometimes. I still feel a lot. I still get envious, prideful, defensive and irrational bitchy. Its okay though. I have a safe place to go back too and get back on my feet again. It can be an ugly cruel world but it can also be beautiful wonderful place. There will always be storms and crashing waves but its my choice now to weather them on my little vessel or helplessly crashing about in the water.
Put coconut oil in your hair, exercise, take hot showers, massage lotion into your skin, eat food that makes you feel good, stretch, lay around in bed, and listen music that makes you feel happy. Just do you.
I wrote a lot as a child and I have boxes in storage full of notebooks from around 3rd grade up until around the time I was married. I found and old journal tucked away on my book shelf while cleaning today. I am guessing it was written when I was about 9. Inside was a mix of things. I conclude I was a weird child. I found lists- tons of lists! Lists of words to remind my self to use- utilize, irrepressible, sumptuous, beguile, obliquely. Lists of carefully planned out gifts for each person in my life. Freakishly well done diagrams of household electronics. Pep talk / self hate phrases written repeatedly. “Get up at 5:30. Do all your work quickly, Don’t stop for breakfast, Just do your work early.” A recipe for a drink I used to like that called for warm milk and balsamic vinegar and just one tea spoon of honey. I think I spent too much time alone. At the end of the journal was a little paragraph scribbled in red ink that I must have wrote while waiting in the car. It read:
Hi! I am at the Deli. I hope christmas comes soon. I love to write and ride horses, socialize, and think about driving. When I grow up I want to enjoy my life and have lots of parties.
So there is a breast health issue that I have. I am in a high risk category now after the surgery. The spot showed up a few months ago or so. I don’t do the monthly exams or anything- I know, I know. Doctors in a week. I have been telling everyone that its nothing to worry about, I am too young, its whatever etc. I told my Stephen that it was probably cancer and I was going to die. He quickly said “don’t think that!” and tried to give possible harmless explanations for the issue. He loves me too much. He is just as miserable as I am in this life and it hurts even more to think about dying and leaving him to face this stormy life alone. Life isnt so miserable when we are together. I tried not to cry but it would be just my luck to live this short confusing life and right before it got better I just died. I don’t believe in karma, Jesus or any other fantasy story made to band-aid real life problems. I feel so deeply hurt when people give you those “comfort lines.” I don’t know if this issue is really serious or not. It could be anything at this point. I’m just feeling really bad right now and these tears wont stop falling. I am thinking about death a lot. I think about my loved ones who are gone. Everyone dies. Everyone dies alone. You are alone in death. You experience it alone. You may be surrounded by family and loved ones- but you die alone. Even if you die with someone else who is dying- you still die alone. I don’t want to die right now. I don’t want to be sick. The worst part about dying is your family slowly watching you fade and get sicker over the months. I couldn’t bear to be such a burden to them. I feel like a burden to them as a healthy individual- I think if I was sick it would be worse. I already made up my mind if the doctor has bad news that I am not telling anyone except Stephen and that I wont get chemo. No one would understand my reasons so its best not to say anything at all. Freewrites over- time to go play Uno with Ally.
“He is not a constellation.
You should not wish to be the cigarette touching his lips.
He will not appear through the fog and heal your wounds.
Only you can do that.
So get out of bed and put on some lipstick.
Stop falling at his feet.
Save yourself.”—Emery Allen (via theglasschild)
Taking the back-roads to get to the parkway I sometimes drive by a small sheep farm. The old weathered barns and roughly manicured pastures are close to the road and any activity is visible. A few times I have seen the old farmer caring for his animals. He is a smaller built older man and always has on dark wool driving cap with white grey hair peeking out in a disheveled fashion. Reminds me of the farmer from the movie “Babe” with his old English sheep herder style. I have always wondered about him. What is he like- What type of person is he. I imagined he would be kindhearted and sweet with a noble “poor man’s pride” spirit. Curiosity got the best of me today as I drove past and saw him walking besides his shabby wire fence. I turned around and parked in the small dirt patch beside the barn. He stood there looking at me as I walked towards him. When I reached him I had spent my energy and confidence and now feeling awkward and shy managed to chirp out a quick “Hi! How are you?” He smiled stiffly and replied “Can I help you?” I averted my eyes as he peered at me from beneath his bushy grey eyebrows with a look of curious annoyance. “Um… I just see you taking care of the sheep sometimes… I was just thinking-” I stammered, unable to finish my sentence because I had no idea what to say. “About sheep?” He sharply replied crushing my rosy hopes of him being a warm kindred spirit. “yeah… They look like they would be sweet and nice pets” “Not pets! They are stupid fucking animals- and they keep finding ways out’a this pen.” He turned and began pulling some wire off the post. “I wouldn’t recommend you just going out and getting sheep-” He turned and looked at me his gaze resting at my colorful 5 finger socks and flip flops. ”Are you look’in at gett’n some sheep?” “Um… well, Not really… Not right now- I don’t have the facilities for…. for sheep” He scowled “You one’uh them Bardies?” “No… never went to Bard…” I quickly replied. Bard collage was known locally for its liberal earth loving students and was frowned upon by the local country folk. I began to regret stopping and bothering him. Awkwardness and uncomfortableness took over this failure to launch conversation. I envy my likeable husband who can strike up a successful conversation with just about anyone. The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes and began to light one. “I thought you’d be like the farmer in the movie “babe.” He exhaled. “I only watch the weather.” “Did you always want to be a sheep farmer?” I asked, ready to turn back to my car. He took puff of his cigarette as he stared into the sky. After a long paused he turned back to me and smiled with his eyes twinkling. “Not always…. but you have to do whatcha love. Find something that makes you get out of bed in the morin’n.”
Recovering slowly but steadily from this breakdown. The nightmares have stopped. Dreams are still confusing and vivid but not enough to wake me or steal so much energy from me. Still have no energy but my mind is quieter. When I feel it start to scream I have been able to distract myself enough to collect my composure. I have not drank or used any sleep aids but have managed to get some sleep in the early morning hours. Smoking still but stopping that today. I feel strong enough to deal with the irritability from the nicotine withdrawls especially when I know after day 2 I will feel so much better. I get so mad at myself every time I end up with a pack of cigarettes. I know they leave me feeling worse but the initial release of the smoke seems to be more important at the time. I cried all day yesterday which was nice because it was not a choking sobbing but a slow release of emotion and after each wave of tears I did feel a surge of contentment. I spent some time with my kids and just listened to them. Enjoying their laughing and little thoughts. I didnt have to do anything or get anything done. I just laid down on the couch and felt at peace- a rest. My dog has also brought me great comfort. He is a dorky newf mix but is the most caring soul. Was by my side through all the nightmares, the crying, the heartbreak. Those quiet comforts are the most healing.
“If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also”—
This specifically refers to a hand striking the side of a person’s face, tells quite a different story when placed in it’s proper historical context. In Jesus’s time, striking someone of a lower class ( a servant) with the back of the hand was used to assert authority and dominance. If the persecuted person “turned the other cheek,” the discipliner was faced with a dilemma. The left hand was used for unclean purposes, so a back-hand strike on the opposite cheek would not be performed. Another alternative would be a slap with the open hand as a challenge or to punch the person, but this was seen as a statement of equality. Thus, by turning the other cheek the persecuted was in effect putting an end to the behavior or if the slapping continued the person would lawfully be deemed equal and have to be released as a servant/slave.
I can attest to the original poster’s comments. A few years back I took an intensive seminar on faith-based progressive activism, and we spent an entire unit discussing how many of Jesus’ instructions and stories were performative protests designed to shed light on and ridicule the oppressions of that time period as a way to emphasize the absurdity of the social hierarchy and give people the will and motivation to make changes for a more free and equal society.
For example, the next verse (Matthew 5:40) states “And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well.” In that time period, men traditionally wore a shirt and a coat-like garment as their daily wear. To sue someone for their shirt was to put them in their place - suing was generally only performed to take care of outstanding debts, and to be sued for one’s shirt meant that the person was so destitute the only valuable thing they could repay with was their own clothing. However, many cultures at that time (including Hebrew peoples) had prohibitions bordering on taboo against public nudity, so for a sued man to surrender both his shirt and his coat was to turn the system on its head and symbolically state, in a very public forum, that “I have no money with which to repay this person, but they are so insistent on taking advantage of my poverty that I am leaving this hearing buck-ass naked. His greed is the cause of a shameful public spectacle.”
All of a sudden an action of power (suing someone for their shirt) becomes a powerful symbol of subversion and mockery, as the suing patron either accepts the coat (and therefore full responsibility as the cause of the other man’s shameful display) or desperately chases the protester around trying to return his clothes to him, making a fool of himself in front of his peers and the entire gathered community.
Additionally, the next verse (Matthew 5:41; “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.”) was a big middle finger to the Romans who had taken over Judea and were not seen as legitimate authority by the majority of the population there. Roman law stated that a centurion on the march could require a Jew (and possibly other civilians as well, although I don’t remember explicitly) to carry his pack at any time and for any reason for one mile along the road (and because of the importance of the Roman highway system in maintaining rule over the expansive empire, the roads tended to be very well ordered and marked), however hecould not require any service beyond the next mile marker. For a Jewish civilian to carry a centurion’s pack for an entire second mile was a way to subvert the authority of the occupying forces. If the civilian wouldn’t give the pack back at the end of the first mile, the centurion would either have to forcibly take it back or report the civilian to his commanding officer (both of which would result in discipline being taken against the soldier for breaking Roman law) or wait until the civilian volunteered to return the pack, giving the Judean native implicit power over the occupying Roman and completely subverting the power structure of the Empire. Can you imagine how demoralizing that must have been for the highly ordered Roman armies that patrolled the region?
Jesus was a pacifist, but his teachings were in no way passive. There’s a reason he was practically considered a terrorist by the reigning powers, and it wasn’t because he healed the sick and fed the hungry.
I love looking at Biblical matters in the context of the time, but let’s not forget that his healing of the sick and miraculous feeding of the hungry was seen by those in Jewish authority as a threat to their religious rule. Just my two cents.
My heart is broken. I am crushed. I can feel the tears in my eyes and a pain in my chest. I hate this feeling. Crying is a worse feeling. The worst is after all the tears have been shed and that numb coldness fills your body days following… Like death- the final end- its cold, lonely and quiet. The past weeks I have suffered nightmares, anxiety attacks, and breakdowns. My soul was trying to tell me something and I ignored it and covered its voice with alcohol, drugs and other distractions. Now its done. My soul and my mind are no longer screaming. Its quiet now. Tears fall and I await the cold as I trudge on in this miserable life.