goldmourn (amberdawnpullin) wrote,

pacing, pacing, pacing

Thursday, July 8th, 2021.
Showing up to the blank page. Wearing one of my chakra stone necklaces, the one with the dirty crystal quartz instead of the jagged bulkier amethyst one that usually draws me. Still not at the stage of wearing bracelets or other necklaces again. Recently thought of trying to put earrings back in since it may still work but the only pair I have are those fake diamond studs or the pearls and - wait, should I just go for it and wear the pearls? - and I'm thinking of how I miss my nipple piercings and of how I'll need to insist on the largest hoops or else it just won't work, as made evident by some of the previous times I had it done, years ago. What am I even talking about anyway, seeing as how there is no extra change for anything let alone piercings, another tattoo or even what has really been on my mind (literally) which is a touch up of my hair. I'm undecided whether to let the white hair blast through the strands of various shades of long hair or get it professionally touched up so that I look more presentable - and then I think, more presentable? To who? who actually cares at this point? And how will I know what it will actually look like unless I just let it do what it's going to do? I've had white hairs showing since I was in my '20s - it's not a surprise that it's a thing now, after at least two years of no hairdresser touching it. Then I think of how it might feel to have a beautiful colour that suits me more, some natural vibrancy - and then I think of how maybe I should take it one step at a time (literally) and go for walks and get the rest of me feeling better before I concern myself with the colour of my hair. I can't afford to do anything about it at the moment anyway so let it be. But to for a walk would be free. Though, not of risk, I guess.

Watched an investigative account put out by the NYT which covered what happened on January 6th, 2021. It's insanity that there are people who are saying it didn't happen. Those who were there who were trying to blockade the chamber and later, said it was no different than when tourists - what the - all for some political interest that goes beyond any realm of decency or intelligence, integrity, conscience. Someone had sent me a post through Instagram DM's not long ago and I can just see them being not even one click away from becoming one of those people who do that sort of thing. And this is not a hate on Americans. No. I've seen how this got so much bigger than just the United States in the previous years and of how it emboldened a spreading of hatred and fear and ignorance that is in the country I live and in places Overseas where it is the one you'd think of as everyday people but they're grabbing on to this extremist view that truly terrifies me. Not because I am against people having their own views that are different than mine - of course not - but because of the amount of hatred and fear and certainty that they are backing the right ideology - it's history repeating before those who survived the horrors of that history have even passed on - it seems such a heartbreak.

I remember reading about Disaster Capitalism years ago when I was younger, back when I read more for myself while living on my own. If this hasn't been just the perfect storm of events over the previous years for the variables - and then of course Climate - that thing we made stupid agreements about that didn't account for how the loopholes and the leaders wouldn't care how it actually might affect our planet, let alone the people or the beings that inhabit it - and I just want to watch horror movies and disaster films to make myself feel better now because at least they had better endings, in some of them, than what we seem to be seeing at this time. I mean, some of them showed at least some compassion and cooperation amongst people and those who were in positions of power - some of the films, at least - and that's not at all what I feel is happening today. I want to believe that we can do better but I get it why there are those who are seeking out refuge in places where they can. Withdrawing into what they believe to be safe havens to ride it out. Seems to be what I'd want to do if I could, if I'm not one to be out there fighting for this or that. So many people have no option of where to go. No bunker or cabin to seclude themselves in. No money to travel and hop about, outrun each storm, each place that crumbles behind them. I want to be somewhere that I can wean off the meds and soften the nightmares with a life of love and writing, reading and creativity, passion and conversations, silence and solitude paced out in between the sharing of what matters. I suppose if you have that - or whatever it is that truly aligns with you that harms no one - what more could you truly want?

I have taken to looking up apartments in the neighbourhood I loved so much in this city - The Beach/es - but even one that caught my eye right near the lake, the boardwalk - it's more than I have on my own. I am scouring jobs but with the resume being so blotchy and impairments I have, it's discouraging. I can't leave anyway, not unless it was a way that allowed me to meet the combined income responsibilities I am obliged to in this situation, and so I am still on pause, though pacing, pacing, pacing. At the same time, what a good place to be stuck in! Can't imagine a better view if the view is what I have. The person I live with cares for me. I am safe and housed and lucky that me and the cats are okay. What's the hurry? It's a pandemic still and it's not over yet. The affects of it will linger and it's just as well to stay put, at least for now.

But I do think of the future. That's the difference between him and I. I like to have plans or things to look forward to - even if they don't work out, just to think of possibilities and to want to strive toward something, to even just change the furniture around from time to time! - we differ on that. The thing that is difficult is to have that part of me just not be motivated when the energy in the apartment is shared in such a way that it stifles those bursts of energy that I previously might have acted on. As the years go, as I just feel that I'm lucky enough to have a place to live given the economy and other factors, I wonder if this is as good as I can hope for - but it isn't - and I know it - and this has been threaded throughout most my life.

Each choice or lack thereof, each decision that led to where I am now. The ones that resulted in getting this far. The ones that maybe have cut out other paths I might have taken. I think of these things too much for my own good. If I could just be present and do what I can in this situation to make the most of it while it is, knowing that things eventually change - and given the state of things, maybe don't hurry or worry about it because now is not the time to shake it all up, eh?

I'll write my way through it.

The other day, a Tweet:

07 June 2021 @ 4:29am:
slept on floor of book nook with
sleeping bag & pillows. Woke myself
up this time. Washroom. Water from
kitchen. Tell person in bedroom
waking up the the scraps of recent
dreams. Realized from disturbing
content I had missed taking last
night's meds. Trauma memories
surface roughly.

The bed is big enough for both of us but he goes to bed earlier (around 8:30 or 9pm because of his chosen early morning routine) and I stay up late. It works better for the cats overall for me to be up at night but sometimes, especially if I've taken my anti-anxiety meds early enough or I just feel like laying down out here, I'll bring my pillows and my sleeping bag out here to the book nook. I sleep on the wood floor. It's nothing new for me. I've realized, as the anxiety goes through times of being worse, that I'm in the book nook more, on the floor. Sometimes I'm woken up early morning and asked if I want to go to bed and other times I wake myself up and go to bed and still, other times, I might just sleep more on the floor. But the bed is something we're able to share together because we don't hate one another. I just use a sleeping bag (when I've had one - there have been a few times throughout the years where I was without one) and now a big pillow that I use between us. He'd never impose himself on me but it's like the barriers, the walls I've put up in shelf form in the living room, I suppose. I've looked into this and it makes sense with the ptsd and whatnot. Since there is unresolved trust issues for me with this person (though not for physical reasons, which I'm thankful and the reason why we are able to live together without me losing my absolute mind) but still, I have hypervigilence and these are ways I'm getting through. Yes, I've talked with him, mentioning how I worry about how this affects him and of how it isn't fair and all of that, but at least when it comes to night time sleeping, he is more of a sleeping at night person so there's no bother there. Anyway, I could sleep in bed but sometimes I don't. The books feel safer.

But I do miss the feeling of a person feeling safe, that I am involved with, I mean, on that level. Will it happen again for me? Will it happen for him, too? Every being deserves to feel loved in all the ways that are good. Meanwhile, this rambling sentence was just to say that only missing the dosage for one night un-softened the edges of my nightmares to where I had traumatic memories surface and while I know it wasn't as bad as it was early on in the pandemic when I had to ask the doctor for help because it was too much, even for me, a person who'd been having nightmares every time of sleeping for most of my adult life, that one night was enough to tell me that I am not ready to go med-free yet with this level of anxiety. I can't deal with that on top of day to day concerns about income, bills, safety, well-being, unwell being -

survive until you thrive. again.
Tags: dreams & nightmares

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