I dreamed that I was stumbling through thick fog. It was mostly dark and I couldn’t see where I was. There were shapes around me that seemed vaguely sinister. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I needed to put this oppressive fog behind me.
That dream a couple of nights ago seems to have been my mind’s way of giving me a metaphor for the last nine days. I know I need to talk about what I’m feeling and experiencing, but I don’t quite know what to say — and there’s no one to say it to.
When I thought my father was dying nine days ago, it brought up all sorts of painful feelings. The feelings are always just underneath the surface for me, but they’ve been front and center for the last nine days. And what I thought would be a crisis of a few days that would resolve itself one way or the other has dragged on — and I feel as though I’m stumbling through old feelings and fears and nightmares.
It makes me feel desperately alone.
Goodbye, William (1999-2015)
For good or bad, we default back to what feels most familiar to us
Vulnerability is scary, but failure to be open guarantees loss of love
‘This path leads to somewhere I think I can finally say, I’m home’
Economic Man needs no heart, because love and God are dead
My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love
$6.6 billion stolen from the feds? Yeah, well, they stole it from us first
It’s easy to learn wrong lessons from watching parent’s behavior
Ignore the happy face it presents: Coercive state points a gun at you