today's dream log

dream


water

i was swimming. Learning to improve my strokes.
Hotel swimming pool. More rectangular than long. At dusk.
The glow of the lights in the water - turquoise.
Glass walls - rooftop terrace now closed. City skyline becomes alive.
Few people, mostly milling about. Languid in lounge chairs.

An instructor, svelt man, middle aged, comes into the pool to show me how to improve my strokes. Turns on the wave machine. I begin to swim. Each movement, poetic, graceful. Underwater ballet. He stops me, shows me, i begin again.

The movement propelling me forward is counteracted by the waves, bubbles, noise.
I pick up speed, and the waves get stronger, the bubbles bigger and the noise - louder.

Now it all seems so effortless. My body glides, hands slice the water like cleavers. Blade through flesh. Silent. No spash. No sound.


Flash. it's morning and we are now entering the sauna. Tilled cubicle. Standing room only. Five of us walk in. It's dark except for the ambient light. Steam streams through the walls. Eucalyptus fills our nostrils. Mentholated brush into the sinuses. General malaise. I say: "it's good for you. Now we sit and sweat."

After a few seconds, people tire and become anxious.
"Now we cold dip." pointing to the garden hose attached to the wall. I pick it up and lift it to my head.
"Are you crazy?"
"that's too cold!!"

"It closes your pores, gets your heart rate going. It's good for you."

But nobody listens. They slide out of the stall, aimless and sweaty. I stay behind, enjoying the whole aquatic experience.



House

E and I had bought a house. Condo actually. Model home. Fully equipped, furnished. Showroom ready to go. It was dark, pale moss green everywhere. Into the post-modern domestic forest. Everything was set. Tv was on. Welcoming din.


I began to get anxious. Nervous. Something was wrong. Trapped, suffocated I began to rant. Question. Weariness covered me like a veil.
"There are no windows!! How could you have said yes to a place that had no windows!!"

"it's not that big of a deal."
"what the hell do you mean!? Of course it is! I can't breathe! I can't see out! There is no natural sunlight!"
"why do you need light?"

Picking up a paint chip, blush pink, I waved it into his face.
"why can't we paint this place another color!? Why all this green? "
"you want to paint it? no problem. I can do that. Just give me the paint."
"but we can't live here while we paint!"
"why not?"
"THERE ARE NO WINDOWS TO OPEN!"
"so, what's your point?"

desperate, dejected and furious, i ran out of the house, into the street. Into the light, into the fresh air.


House - part 2

Now we are in an actual house. I'm on the other side of the front door, watching myself walk in with the agent. Cathedral ceilings, ruched curtains protecting the interior from sun.  Two level, winding staircase, kitchen with marble island, open concept. Stainless steel appliances. Clean. Hyper clean.

This is my house, yet it is not my house.
I own it but don't live in it.

I make my way to the kitchen, and begin to cook. Taking out the spices, putting them in alphabetical order.  E is there, but distant. Observing but not attentive.
I am despondent, why does he not help me?

The doorbell rings. We were not expecting company?

Open the door and a flood of people fill our hallway, making their way into the kitchen. The nexus of this industrial universe. So many people.

"why don't you help me?!!"

E walks away. JM walks behind him, turning to me: "he's not interesting in helping anymore. You have asked him for enough help. He needs to rest. He is fed up. Go on doing what you have to do. He's done with this. This marriage. This everything."

I am crushed. Mentally raped. Physically ruined.

More people, more noise, more scrutiny. My body goes numb. It's a miracle I'm standing.

I too become part of the model home. A fixture. Fleshy furniture. Bees buzzing around me, examining the countertops, the microwave, the fridge. Doors open, plates shifting, floor squeaking under the weight of these bodies make the floor squeak.

Everything is filthy, at least to my standards. I scurry behind, a gypsy child, picking up crumbs, wiping away residue, making everything sparkling clean.

I open the back door and they all fill into the outside yard. Good riddance. Goodbye. I close the door. The remaining people trickle away from the center of the industrial homemaker's universe.

There is a group of Indian women, diligently examining the spice rack.
"it's important to have all the spices in order to keep your kitchen harmonious".

Brown nimble fingers delicately pull apart the angel hairs of red saffron and place them onto the marble countertop.

"this should do it. This should fix everything now..."

letter to a doctor

Today, I was just so desperate.

Got a message from my G.P, that my shrink said he wanted to take my meds down by a huge chunk. I can feel the difference between 10-20mg, but 150 made me so nervous i cracked.

All the ooze just came spilling out.

It had to come out. I was rotting inside.

make of it what he will, but you know, this month being "mental health awareness month", it might be a good thing that this gets out.

Dear Dr. C

just got an email from my g.p who informed me that you advised I decrease my Welbutrin to 150mg from 300mg (i kept on forgetting to take the extra 50 mg because i had to manually split the pill, and by the time i did remember, i had started to get manic) and no Starnoc or Xanax.

I can honestly tell you that is going to be a big problem...

Since you are not at the office right now, i have reluctantly resorted to email because i think this needs to be sorted out very quickly. and apologize profusely for bothering you, but since we can't speak on the phone tonight in detail about this matter, i don't know what to do or who to turn to because I am so completely desperate, and if my mood gets worse, might have to make a trip to the emergency tonight.

I'm a) worried about going down to 150mg of Welbutrin. From 300 that is a HUGE jump for my system. And if the current 300mg is keeping me barely afloat on good days (in terms of depression), I don't even want to think what 150 will do to me. Those lows terrify me. I have tried to commit suicide in the past, and with those thoughts lurking close to the surface these past two months, would a huge decrease like that be a wise thing to do during this time?

and b) without Starnoc (with was the only thing that helped me sleep in the past, and i believe had been taking it while on Welbutrin approximately 3 years ago, and had taken it 6 months ago, and again on the night before my wedding because i had "an emergency stash) i don't see why it would be a problem now since i am still on Welbutrin, unless there is some policy about doctors giving prescriptions for getting medications over the border, or via the internet that nobody wants to tell me about directly, because up to now, i have not had any solid comprehensive answers as to why i can't take it now.

I find it beyond frustrating and infuriating that I should have to be penalized for not being able to get a medication that is readily available in the U.S but not here in Canada because somebody didn't do their job marketing it properly at the corporate level. I will call Servier Canada again this week, as well as the people at Wyeth (who are holding on to the patents but not giving information to if or when they will put Starnoc back on the market), but this time i will get all the names of people i speak to as well as everything i was told in writing (which was) "Starnoc was taken off the market - purely for marketing reasons", because when i explain my story, it seems to me that every doctor i tell thinks I'm full of it. I'm not a liar, just desperate to be able to get the drugs that help me get the sleep that i so desperately need.

as you know, Ativan and i do not have a good history. I skipped a dose one night and thought i was honestly going to die. And nobody bothered to tell me that going off "cold turkey" was equal to somebody detoxing cold turkey from alcohol or harder drugs. I had to find out the hard way.

It was beyond any word that terrifying can describe, and i never want to feel that way again. I don't want to have to take it (Ativan) on a regular basis because i don't want to be dependent on a sleeping pill, but the catch 22 is, if i need it, i will take it, but if i do take it for more than one night in a row I will have to keep on taking it because cold turkey or skipping a dose one night is not an option - so the only way to do so is to taper off. I want to take something only when i need it, and not worry about going "cold turkey" when i don't.

I hope that you understand my predicament.

And i'm not sure if I shared this with you, but, when i was on Ativan in the past, I had gone up to 2.5 mg (about 6-8 months ago ?) because the 0.5 mg initially prescribed stopped being effective. Right now, i'm up to almost 1mg. The pattern is sure to repeat itself, which once again, as stated above, the eventual outcome is not an option.

Immovane makes me physically ill, because the nausea from the metallic taste in my mouth last for 24 hours. And unless i take large doses of Trazadone (which recently, I have taken up to 2 pills a night), I feel as if i am completely stoned, clumsy, disoriented BUT not sleepy.

Sleep plays a big part in the regulation of my bipolar, and perhaps because i have not been able to sleep, has made me in turn, more manic. At this point, i am so completely desperate, I don't know what to do, and I'm sure it's not easy for all the physicians treating me, but I am so very terribly distraught right now, and with my mom's scan at the end of November, it's imperative that I remain calm, focused and be able to sleep, which will in turn, will allow me to be able to be calm, focused etc. If and when the cancer comes back, i can't afford for my sake, but mostly for hers, to be the one who needs an incredible amount of emotional support and/or physical care because i have had another meltdown.

And yes, I have tried yoga, acupuncture, meditation, hypnosis, Valerian root, Nytol, Tynenol PM, Benadryl , holistic/natural sleep medication, warm milk, bananas, turkey, Melatonin (which my pharmacist advised me against because of my thyroid problem), and have also asked her about SAM-E, but she also advised against it because i am on the Welbutrin and Lamictal, but aside from knocking myself unconscious, I don't know what else to do.

I will as of tomorrow, try to scramble to find somebody who will see me through the system for free because after consulting with my husband tonight about our finances, we simply can't afford to pay anybody through private practice. I had maxed out this year's limit with other "therapy/councelling/life coaching sessions" (at 175$ hour, and my yearly limit being $500) and since i am not working, or in any real shape to do so, unemployment has run out and welfare not really an option since we are "supposed to be making enough income" to survive, life seems at best, bleak. Over the years, I have been through the system many times. I know that after my first nervous breakdown some 21 years ago, the average waiting time back then was 3-6 months at best to see a doctor through the hospital. Honesty, I don't think that i will be able to last that long, (if not longer now) and that scares me, well, to death.

Once again, I apologize profusely for sending you this email, but i want you to know what is happening since you are following my case and do know me and my sorted history, but also because in my current state, am manic so can type quickly, and i can still type and weep at the same time, unlike talking on the phone - this needed to be told and don't know if i will be as coherent or in any shape to talk about this tomorrow.

If you would like, you can call me at home tonight.

I will take another ativan to try to stay calm, but 1mg will be tonight's limit, and i really hope that will be enough. If anything, my husband is at the ready to take me to the hospital if need be.

And tomorrow, I will be on a photo assignment from 10 to 1pm, and then away from 5-11pm, and Friday morning might be the best time to call me at home, but because i am (trying to) working with an organization that needs photos quickly, my computer is always on.

I'm attaching my mood charts so you can see what has been going on. In all actuality, October has been quite an uneventful month, and normally, that would have in turn, stabilized my mood. When things around me in my life get out of control, i tend to swing, but with a calm environment, my swings came out of the blue and have taken me completely by surprise and have terrified me.

Dr. C, thank you once again for your compassion and understanding of my difficult and complex situation, and once again, sincerely and deeply apologize for troubling you.

Sincerely,

HpK

ride the dragon

life has been chaotic these past few days and I have no clue why.

Usually, there is a direct corelation between my mood and what is going on around in my world, but lately, things have been, well, quiet. Non eventful. Mom saw her doctor who is sending her for scans in November (our little 3 month window has opened up wider for a few weeks), but no real "news". A follow up of sorts. So there was no real reason to get anxious.

but i am, and it's rough.

I have not swung this high or low in many many months. I'm thinking back to maybe a year, or two? And I'm not even taking the extra Welburtin that the doc prescribed to me. I don't even want to think what that would be like. When i tried it two years ago, I was flying into walls, and if i decided to augment my dose now, i might fly off of buildings or bridges.

so i try to put one foot in front of the other but I can't help but to be very nervous that at any moment, my manic instinct will kick in and i'll be running in the other direction, well, actually, with no direction in particular, in circles perhaps, until i collapse into a heavy weeping mess, looking to get lost in the spaces between horrible thoughts of suicide and exalted grandeur.

last night, I happened to stumble upon the movie - Control.

I had watched the whole film about a year ago, and it still affects me deeply. An instant vivid snap into a time in my life when death was a welcome respite from the exhausting whirling orbit of fear and elation that i lived every moment of every day for months on end. The fact that it is so breathtakingly beautiful to look at did not help to pull me away from not watching it, but as a result, i regressed to the tender age of 16, when life should have been full of promise and possibilities, but was devoid of life and hope, and where suicide was the only path to calm and rest.

15 minutes was all it took, and time began to warp.

And what i find odd was that my regression into these dark memories began during the point in the movie when the band is actually doing quite well; their career is taking off, interest in their music is growing, and the young men from Manchester are still filled with hope and optimism.

Just like i was once, a long long time ago.

"you know, E, the thought of suicide is never far enough in my brain. It's always "this" close to moving into the liquid plasma of my current existence. It's never far enough, and that scares me."

i silently wept as he lay on the couch. He was too buzzed after a night of jamming with the guys to truly grasp what i was saying, and I am not angry at him for that; it's the exact opposite - I feel sorry for him that he has to live with such a ticking time bomb.

when i was 16, Ian Curtis' deep oily crooning of life left unfinished resonated with something almost primal in my soul. Beyond the words, beyond the tempo, a mysterious and macabre comfort connected me to him. He got to complete what he wanted to end before i did. Each song is a testament to this.

Sometimes i am thankful for that, sometimes i envy him for beating me to the finish line.

what do you do?

what do you do when the love is gone?

when there is no passion, no spark, just jealousy?

Anger, disappointment?

When the one that made you feel whole, alive now makes you long for the past?

What happens when those memories are too painful to relive, revisit?

I am seriously considering selling my camera.

There is no joy in my photography anymore. There is no excitement, no reward.

A craft that i once attributed to saving my life has now become my poison.

It's so sad. The feeling is bittersweet, as if i am saying goodbye to a lover who has been my secret confidant. But I must move on.

Every time I hear about people around me, people who i know getting all this attention for their photography, a weekend hobby and a shitty 80$ digital camera, that makes me sad. I spent years on the craft. The art. Somebody just comes along, shoots off 600 images, and yes, because the law of odds allows them chance, get a good shot out of the bunch, be praised and honored - makes 10 + years of study, toil and tears jump out the window.

There is a big difference between somebody who personally invests in their art, the creative process, and people who are just bored, curious or lazy. I'm tired of fighting. I have done enough in the past few months to last ten lifetimes.

But i can't help but feel a deep sense of loss, abandonment, fear.

When i come back from camping, i'm going to put my camera and equipment up for sale. The money i make from it could go far in getting me a ticket to Europe. Perhaps to Greece. I need to make a profound change. I need to cut out my own psychological cancer that has been ravaging my body for some time.

Thank you photography, you have been very special to me, but now i must move on.

I no longer recognize you anymore, and that's a pity.