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.
Just a sandwich: Why do people make everything so political?
Evil media bias? It depends on which lens you’re looking through that day
Maybe we’re doomed to replay past until we finally get it right
‘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
We often act like madmen who’re eagerly bent on self-destruction
Moral priorities: ‘If we free the slaves, who will pick the cotton?’
Loving heart, willing spirit can turn burdens of parenting into happiness