Out of body, out of mind

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Scanning through the blogs I follow, today’s Daily Prompt reminded me of something surreal, something almost Twilight Zone-ish that I would do. I’ve never been able to quite explain it to people, so I’ll give it my best shot. I’m interested to see if any of you have had this same experience.

When I was a child, I have no idea how I came across the idea of doing this (I was always an odd kid), I would stare into the mirror at times and kind of get in this trance. It felt similar to when you stare at something for a long time and your gaze becomes locked and you just can’t break away. Well, while I was locked in this trance, I would find myself having this experience where I would forget who I was. I didn’t feel like a person anymore. I didn’t feel like anything. Lost in this state, my mind would try to tell myself I was a girl, I had a family, I had a name, I did everyday human things…but that seemed so foreign to me. I couldn’t possibly fathom that this was real. I wasn’t this person my mind was trying to tell me from far away through this hazy state. I felt no connection to who I was. This person my mind was trying to tell me about was a stranger. But not just a stranger, something that couldn’t possibly exist. Living a life everyday surrounded by people was something so odd and couldn’t be real. Being this everyday person just wasn’t possible. It was as if I was looking at the life of a human from the viewpoint of some kind of being that wasn’t able to live. The very idea of living and being someone just couldn’t happen. It was crazy. And this girl who I tried to tell myself I was, was someone else. Was someone I had never known, much less could have been at one time.

It’s hard to explain the confusion and almost sadness that would come over me because I knew at any second I could pull myself out of this state and become who my mind was trying to tell me I was. But at that moment it just didn’t feel normal. It wasn’t true. When I would pull myself out, feeling as if my mind was coming into focus, leaving the pull of a vacuum, everything would come back to me. The unreal person my mind was trying to tell me about was there and was indeed me. I felt normal again, and a little bewildered that my mind had gone into that state where I didn’t believe I existed. I was able to do this whenever I wanted as a child, even into my teenage years. I haven’t tried recently. Not in the past few years. I’ve been tempted to, just to see if I can take my mind there again, but since I tried to research and failed (because how do you find that on the internet?), I’ve been a little scared to try again. I’m afraid that maybe my mind wouldn’t be able to go there and I would just become frustrated and confused. Or perhaps, I would go there and it may not exactly be the healthiest state to be in. I mean, I already doubt myself enough as it is.

It was hard to put this otherworldly feeling into words, so it may come out a bit jumbled. But that’s no surprise when it comes to me talking about anything. Whenever I try to explain it, I just get weird looks and decide yeah, I’m going to just shut up now. If anyone has experienced anything remotely like this, I would be very interested to hear about it. I would love to find someone else who has gone through this, so even if it’s an alien taking over my brain, at least I’ll have a fellow alien impostor here to talk to. ;)

 

Photo Credit

Behold, a DIY that actually works — the Clementine Candle!

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I finally got around to making a clementine candle, and I was pleasantly surprised to see it work on my first try! I’ve seen these on the internet and always thought I’d try my hand at it. My coworker always shares his clementines (I think these were called cuties, not sure if that’s the same thing) with me at work, so I decided tonight while I was binging on The Borgias, I’d see if I could construct one. For those who haven’t seen this done, I’ll give you the quick steps:

First, you slice the skin in half completely around the fruit. (I only cut the skin, not the fruit, so I’m not sure if it makes a difference or not.) Once you’ve made your cut, gently peel the two oranges halves off but make sure and lightly tug out your the little white stem inside on one end. This will be your wick. If that breaks off, you’ll have to try on another orange.

ImageYou can barely see the wick on the left piece in the center, but it’s there and it was short but still worked. On the other piece without the wick, cut some kind of shape to let the light and smoke out. I chose to create this lovely lopsided star.

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Last, pour a puddle of olive oil over the wick. Let it soak for about a minute and make sure a little of the oiled wick is sticking out for you to light. It took me a couple of tries to get the wick to light, but once there was a tiny flame, I set the top on and it soon grew.

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I sat delighted and mesmerized by this brilliant orange glow that lit up the dark. The smell was sweet as well. I’m not sure how long it will last, but I’d say it was a good 20 minutes before I blew it out. And of course, I’m sure I don’t even have to say it, but don’t leave this pretty little guy unattended. ;)

First day of therapy accomplished

Recently I wrote about the swarm of butterflies inhabiting my stomach as my day of therapy drew near. Well, that day was yesterday and I’ll have to say it wasn’t as frightening as I thought it would be. I mean, I guess I knew it was a good thing which is why I went for it, but at the same time the idea of therapy is a bit daunting. I went in there with the mindset of “I’m not going to be afraid or hold back.” I would just try my best to spill what I’m feeling. Which I did, rather awkwardly. This is something a little difficult for me because I’ve grown up not expressing how I feel. I can be a great listener when I put my mind to it and really care about other people and their problems, unfortunately I grew up around people who didn’t return that favor. Maybe I wouldn’t have even expressed what was bothering me if I had the chance.

Anyway, my therapist was lovely and made me feel comfortable. Since it was only the first day, I can’t say anything great really happened, but I was expecting that. The fact that I liked her was promising. I tend to ramble around in circles when I talk and also crack sarcastic jokes, so I had the therapist laughing…which is I guess a good thing? Of course, she did ask me to keep track of my dreams and write them down since I have such vivid ones so that we can analyze them. Personally, I’ve always been a skeptic when it comes to dream meanings. I know a lot of people believe in this and I do find it interesting, and maybe it does work for some, but for me I know what my dreams are. They’re crazy, so unless it means I’m crazy, then they’re just what I think they are- the works of an overactive imagination.

Take for instance my first dream to write down which was last night. Very detailed, but to quickly sum it up in a nutshell, I was in a film crew for a show like “My Strange Addiction” or whatever it’s called. The guy’s addiction was raising a bunch of pets (cockatiels, puppies, ferrets to name a few) and eating them alive. I, of course, was horrified and tried to run off all Clarice Starling-like with one of the pets when I saw it happen. He ended up chasing me down, and pinning me on the ground with a knife, intent on taking my life. So, we’ll see how she analyzes that. Despite my skepticism when it comes to dream analysis, I feel like this is going to be a good thing and I’m glad I took that plunge. I’m proud of myself. Even though I’ve only been to one session, I encourage anyone else who may be like I was, suffering but unsure if they should seek help, to just go for it. Give it a chance. It’s definitely, if anything, a calming experience which my emotions needed. And hey, maybe you’ll learn why you dream such things as being chased by pet eating maniacs. ;)

“Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and they will come forth later in uglier ways.” Sigmund Freud

He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.

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So I have decided to take the plunge and seek therapy and let me tell you, I’m scared. I’m terrified. I go tomorrow and I’m doing everything I can not to think about it too much because if I do I fear that I’ll just back out. Is it always like this your first time? This feeling of skepticism and unease? Maybe what’s scaring me so much is the fact that I’m doing this all on my own. I haven’t told a single person, so I have no one to turn to for support. There’s just so much doubt and maybe even embarrassment that keeps me from sharing.

I come from a family that doesn’t believe in this kind of help. I have an older sister, who has needed psychiatric help since she was a child, but my mother refused to face that there was anything wrong until my father finally stepped up. Presently, at the age of 30 where she has nearly retreated into a childlike state, she is visiting a psychologist. Now I don’t have the issues my sister has, which is why I could never bring my need for therapy up to my family. If they thought my sister shouldn’t get help, they’ll sure as hell think I don’t need it. But I have my own problems that I don’t share for fear of being thought strange. It hasn’t been until the past two years that I’ve finally realized I shouldn’t have to deal with this on my own. I don’t want to continue going through life thinking I’m not a good person.

Looking back I know how difficult it’s been going from happy to sad and angry for no reason. Lying in states of darkness where all I can do is cry and I have no idea why. The older I’ve grown, the worse it has become. There’s this dark, sick fog that comes when I’m feeling alright and living normally, and slowly creeps into my brain and stays there, grabbing hold of my emotions, turning me into a monster. It’s affecting my life, my relationships, I’ve just become so tired of it. I know I was an angry child. I was a little beast compared to my siblings and was constantly being locked up and punished. I’m still an angry person, but I’ve learned to bottle it all up inside. But sometimes, the rage and sadness just overwhelms me and I want to burst. This, a long with a few other things that have happened to me in the past, have been weighing on my heart and bringing me down. I don’t know if therapy can help, but I feel like I have to reach out to someone and at least try, for the sake of my own sanity. It took me almost a year to just find someone and weeks to gain the courage to call. Now it’s tomorrow and I’m so scared. However, hearing the stories of everyday people who have sought therapy and felt relief, gives me hope. It makes me think maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to be the person I want so terribly to be, not just this demon in disguise.

I’m usually a very private person, but I know there are others out there like me battling their own issues, or have already found that light at the end of the tunnel. Therefore, just reading each other’s words may help.

Valentine’s Day when you’re not romantic is just awkward, right?

So in honor of St. Valentine’s torture and beheading yesterday, like many others I joined in the overpriced day of showing love. And what better way to show your significant other (or whomever it is you feel like snagging for the day) a romantic time than a trip to where “happily ever after” is shoved down your throat…DISNEYLAND!!

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I may act like a smartass, but the child in me loves Disney. I’ll put down a lot of money just to be surrounded by that mouse and his many princesses. Once I get there, my doom and gloom self is just consumed by the magic they pump in the air because suddenly I’ve become one of them and I’m skipping around like the first time I ever went. Somehow my boyfriend seems to always be immune to the magic. I believe sometimes he’d much rather jump down Snow White’s well than spend another moment surrounded by these commercialized fairy tales. However, it was that dreaded day of hearts and flowers so he put up his best front. And let me add that I am not a romantic person. Romantic movies and books, sure I’ll enjoy them, but act that stuff out, no thank you. The men in my life have always been better at it. And I always seem to foil their gestures. Take last night for example. We drove separately because of our work locations and trying (but failing) to beat traffic, we ended up in this odd predicament. My boyfriend (having free parking on his annual pass) had already parked and met up with me to help me find where to park.

J: So I’m pretty sure you can park for free at their California Adventure hotel.

Me: Are you kidding me? Do you know where we are? There’s nothing for free at this place.

J: Well, why don’t you give it a try?

Me: Because I know I can’t park at their hotel for free! I’m not about to go drive in there like a fool and ask if I can park for free!

Well this romantic conversation went on until my frustrated boyfriend just about pushed the car in there himself. So as we approach the overly chipper attendant, my boyfriend cuts off my annoyed state by letting him know we have dinner reservations. So there we go, in to park for free and me with the whole looking at the ground “well you could have just said so, damn it, I’m an ass now” awkward state. Men and their romantic gestures. Got to love them. And it was a great dinner.

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At their buffet I went back for seconds, thirds, even having to try all the desserts. Hey, Valentine’s is once a year. But who am I kidding? I just love food.

And here we are:

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He really is a great boyfriend. I’ve never met someone with the exact same type of sarcasm and humor like I have.

And if you can just bear with me through these typical girly selfies (it won’t happen often, I promise!) where I have an outfit moment. I rarely dress up, so when I do, it’s a big deal for me and I just want to excitedly show off what I wore last night. This little number (which, I swear looks better in person. I think…) is a 20’s inspired vintage store find. Probably less than $20 because that’s how I roll. I was in love with it. Forget the boyfriend. I was spending Valentine’s Day with this dress.

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Ugh, what a poser.

(Glitzed out phone cover courtesy of one of my favorite toddlers who basically told me I was a girl so I needed some bling like all the ones he knew. I’m just not cool enough for kids these days.)

So whether you’re a Valentine’s Day lover or an anti (I’ve been both), I hope yesterday was lovely in some kind of way. And while I’m on this subject, let me say while still being relatively new to the blog world, I absolutely love reading and hearing from everyone on here. You have all made me feel so welcomed and loved.

Feed Me Seymour

I bought this little bundle of joy the other day. Meet Audrey, or Hydra…I haven’t made up my mind yet: 

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I love plants and I’ve always especially liked venus flytraps. Like I mentioned earlier in another post, when I was about 8 or 9, that’s all I wanted for my birthday. While most girls were probably requesting Barbies (I didn’t own one of those until about 3rd grade), I wanted a fanged carnivorous plant. This was mainly because of my favorite cartoon and favorite character:

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My grandmother gave me one on my birthday and I was thrilled. I used to watch it all the time, but unfortunately, that child wasn’t prepared to care for such a high maintenance creature as a plant, and it seemed to wither and die for no reason (although I’m sure there was). So when I was walking around Lowe’s, bored, with the boyfriend and my eyes caught sight of this treasure, of course I had to snatch it up. We’ll see how this one fairs. Hopefully I’ve improved on my plant caring skills. 

Life is beautiful, life is cruel

I received some upsetting news a little while ago that gave me a heavy heart. My cousin (who was like a sister growing up and made me an aunt to her daughter) delivered her second child today, a boy, and he’s missing four fingers. I never think of things like this happening, although they do and quite often I’m sure. Whenever I hear of someone expecting a child, my only real concern is whether it will be a boy or a girl. Sure, deformities happen, but like most sad circumstances you never think it will happen to someone you know. It just breaks my heart to think of mothers having to go through the pain of finding out on that special day that something is wrong with their child. And what’s worse is you know the pain they feel is for the child and what he/she will have to endure in life.

It scares me to think that, without knowing it, something could be wrong with my child when I choose to have one. I love children and always know that if my child were to have any kind of issues, I would love that baby more than I love myself no matter what. This just kind of shook my world for a moment. As I sat here at work, listening to my mother on the other end of the phone, it just showed me that you think you know how life is going to play out, but you don’t. And it also once again shed light on the fact that all the little things I have to gripe and complain about, could be worse. This news made my heart swell for my cousin and this beautiful baby boy and for all the other brave mothers, fathers, and children who have had to deal with deformities in their lives.

Life can be such a beautiful thing, but it can also be so very heartbreaking.