The Prozac Diaries, Chapter 1: Prozac? Are you there? It's me, Mandy.

You know how when you have a RAGING sinus infection (or strep throat, or some other awful ailment) and you've put off going to the doctor for as long as you can and then you FINALLY go and get the coveted "Z-pack" and you know that this... THIS will finally bring the relief you seek!

Imagine the Z-pack takes WEEKS to kick in.

And in the meantime your infection gets worse. And worse. And WORSE.

That's me right now. Today makes a week I've been on my Prozac (and phasing out the Wellbutrin) and quite frankly I feel like crap on a stick. I had to take yesterday off because, as I put it to Kelly, "I need to get this 'curl up in a ball' BS outta my system."

I am proud to say I went to my Zumba class last night, but alas, the endorphin boost was short lived. Ed ended up getting sent back this way for work, too. But alas, even with a Breathe Right strip he snored, so I ended up in the spare room.

*sigh*

Guess I can't have it all.

But, dear Prozac, if you could find it in my neurotransmitters to fix me up a little quicker than THREE WEEKS, I would most appreciate it.

Love,
Mandy

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

I never thought that I would be “the one” sitting here, writing about mental disorders. I’ve dealt with depression since I was in my early 20s, but it wasn’t awful. More like a mild annoyance. The last 6 months or so, however, something has changed. I can’t tell you when, exactly. All I know is that it’s gotten completely out of control. There’s a name for my condition- Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I haven’t talked much about it except with close friends and family. Mostly for the reasons that have been documented in studies: embarrassment and fear that I’ll be seen as vain when actually the opposite is true- I think I’m disgusting. BUT… the time has come to talk about it. I’m hoping that it will be therapeutic for me and maybe, just maybe help someone else out, too.

So what is BDD? Well, in a nutshell, it’s truly a mental disorder (that can go hand in hand with an eating disorder if you aren’t careful) in which the person fixates on a part (or parts) of their body. They can actually become delusional, seeing things that aren’t even there. A small patch of dry skin becomes the object of their obsession. They constantly pick and scrub at it because “Ugh! I know this is all people are staring at when they see me!!! How disgusting! I’m a mess!” When in reality… no one even notices. The smallest imperfections become the deepest pits. A little bit of cellulite… a gray hair… a zit. It goes beyond a simple “Ew. Zit. Go away!” mentality and truly becomes a source of anxiety and sometimes, downright panic.

For me, it’s my hips and thighs. All I see when I look in the mirror is a whale covered in cottage cheese. Huge, dimpled up, nasty-A thighs. I struggle with other things, too. (That dry patch of skin, mentioned above being among them) Personally, the most annoying part in all of this is dealing with the compulsions (I bolded the ones I deal with):

Common compulsive behaviors associated with BDD include:

§ Compulsive mirror checking, glancing in reflective doors, windows and other reflective surfaces.

§ Alternatively, an inability to look at one's own reflection or photographs of oneself; also, the removal of mirrors from the home.

§ Attempting to camouflage the imagined defect: for example, using cosmetic camouflage, wearing baggy clothing, maintaining specific body posture or wearing hats.

§ Use of distraction techniques: an attempt to divert attention away from the person's perceived defect, e.g. wearing extravagant clothing or excessive jewelry.

§ Excessive grooming behaviors: skin-picking, combing hair, plucking eyebrows, shaving, etc.

§ Compulsive skin-touching, especially to measure or feel the perceived defect.

§ Becoming hostile toward people for no known reason, especially those of the opposite sex, or same sex if homosexual.

§ Seeking reassurance from loved ones.

§ Excessive dieting or exercising, working on outside appearance.

§ Self-harm

§ Comparing appearance/body parts with that/those of others, or obsessive viewing of favorite celebrities or models whom the person suffering from BDD wishes to resemble.

§ Compulsive information-seeking: reading books, newspaper articles and websites that relate to the person's perceived defect, e.g. hair loss or being overweight.

§ Obsession with plastic surgery or dermatological procedures, often with little satisfactory results (in the perception of the patient).

§ In extreme cases, patients have attempted to perform plastic surgery on themselves, including liposuction and various implants with disastrous results.

§ Excessive enema use (if obesity is the concern).

Y’all… I can’t drive to work in the morning without having the rearview mirror facing me and checking at literally EVERY. RED LIGHT. to make sure that my makeup is in its right spot and there aren’t any streaks or lines…. to make sure that that patch of dry skin is under control. I take pictures every morning to make sure that I look presentable enough to be in public. The mirror isn’t enough- I need to SEE what other people see. When I walk up the hill to work every morning, I pass a wall of reflective windows. I can’t NOT look. I have to make sure that there’s no muffin top sticking out of my pants… that there’s no part out of place.

And if I try to stop? I twitch. I literally twitch. And then I panic because “Ohmygod! I HAVE to make sure I’m ok. I HAAAAAVE to!”

This is the part where you secretly think “Bitch, please. You’re what? A size 4? And you’re complaining about the way you look? You need to get over yourself.” Easier said than done, my loves. I am the QUEEN of “Just get over it” and it makes me hate myself even more that I’m not strong enough to fight this off.

For whatever reason, I’ve been blessed with juuust enough logic to realize that if I starve myself and became a bag of bones, I still wouldn’t be happy. I want to though, but that one I can fight off. (Thank God for small favors) If I had the money, I know I would try to get gastric bypass surgery or liposuction. I want nothing more than to reduce my appetite and see the numbers on the scale drop. The only problem is, much like with my clothing size, when that happens, it tends to go further. Most people would reach their “goal weight” and jump up and down with joy. Not me. I’d be all “Oh, wow! I’m 126! I could go down to 124!” then “I could go down to 122!... Gosh! Imagine if I was only 120!!!” Same with clothes “Hey… my size 4s are a little loose. If I’m real careful, maybe I could get into a size 2!”

I’ve done the exercise thing, too. But since the reflection in the mirror never changed, I stopped. It doesn’t matter what I do, or how I look, all I see is the whale that I was 12 years ago… and I don’t understand how anyone else can see beauty. It’s to the point where I don’t want to be uncovered AT ALL. I’m afraid that people will stare. Apparently they do… but my friends say it’s guys checking me out. I always think they’re turning up their noses and wondering what I think I’m doing trying to look nice.

I’m miserable. Plain and simple MISERABLE. I don’t even wanna be intimate with Ed because I don’t want him to see my fat ass and jumbo thighs. The man that saw me poop on the table when I squirted out our kid and all I wanna do is curl into a ball and stay covered.

That’s messed up, y’all.

I have what I guess would technically be considered delusions too- beyond the making a mountain out of a molehill when it comes to the smallest imperfection- I feel like my clothes are so, so tight (despite what people tell me) and I will look at food, get nauseated and then get panicky cause all eating is going to do is make my clothes tighter and the number on the scale go up.

Did I mention it’s messed up?

My body and my mind are constantly warring with each other. My mind doesn’t care what my body feels, it just wants relief. Relief comes in the form of doing whatever I can to be skinny. My poor body will have a pounding headache, a stomach that’s about to eat itself, woozy, and my brain flips my body the bird and won’t budge. The end result? I have to force myself to eat. And apparently when I do eat, it’s still not much.

The good news is, I’ve seen the doctor. Apparently I have all the symptoms of an eating disorder without the starvation and binging/purging. (And as I’ve said, the only reason I won’t go that far is because I know it won’t do any good and I can just barely overrule the urge to starve myself) He’s put me on some new medication that should help. It’s the “go to” med for eating disorders, so we’ll see.

If you’re a praying person, I’d appreciate that. If you’re not, I’d appreciate any warm thoughts you can send my way. More than anything, if you know someone who is struggling with something like this, get them help. I know that without my good friends pointing out how bad things had gotten and that little logic I am able to hold onto, I would probably be half dead right now.

I just wanna look in the mirror and see what everyone else sees.

I just wanna look in the mirror and be happy.

I blame the allergies

I'm a blog stalker. It's okay, I can admit it. There's no shame in my game, but I do stalk blogs of people that might know OF me, but don't KNOW me.

Here's the thing about blogs: They say whatever the writer wants em to say (WOW. That little revelation just blew your socks off, didn't it?) What I mean is, though, that if someone wanted their life to seem all cotton candy and sunflowers, they could easily make it out to be like that. So when I read the blogs of those I don't know too well, eh... it can sting sometimes. Why? Cause nothing makes me feel worse than one of those "OMG you are my sweet precious baby" blogs. (No offense to any of my friends that write them, I think it's awesome. I'm honestly jealous that I just don't have it in me to say that kind of stuff.)

"Dear.... you are such a PRECIOUS addition to our family... We are so BLESSED to have you... I just can't IMAGINE my life without you..."

*gag*

If I were to write about CJ, it'd go something like this:

So...:

Thanks for not being a hellion or a pain in the ass.

Thanks for using good manners.

Thank GOD you're smart and can write your full name already. God knows you got enough going against you already without adding "stupid" to the list.

I'm glad your glasses make you cuter and aren't setting you up to be called "Four eyes" one day.

You can get over the fact that I won't give you candy and other crap. I don't have any cavities and I refuse to let you have cavities either. I also refuse to let you get fat. Eat healthy and deal with it.

I'm really glad you don't want any siblings... cause you ain't gettin' none. After the hell you put me through when I was pregnant, I figured it was a sign I should stop at one. Plus, I refuse to spend all that money on another kid. Besides, you deserve to have my full attention and resources. I can't do that if you have a sibling. YOU'RE WELCOME. (I would like to note, however, for the record, that I nursed you for 2 years. You never got a DROP of formula. Again, YOU'RE WELCOME.)

So... yeah. I think I'll keep you.

Love, Mama

For real, y'all. I can't DEAL with all that sugar. Some of the stuff I read would give Paula Deen's diabetes, diabetes! The thing is, the people that I know personally who write it are sincere... I guess I'm just not wired to think that way.

Same with those husband posts. Same sweetness, rebagged and relabeled for the hubster. "You know me so well... you were made for me... I can't imagine life without you... you are my heart..."

* double gag*

I find it VERY hard to believe that anything with a tallywacker is THAT perfect. They leave their dirty clothes on the floor, the pee on the toilet seat (and ONLY on the toilet seat, if you're lucky) they don't know how to clean right... They wanna spend money on stupid stuff like motorcycles. Whatever y'all are smokin' that makes your man seem infallible, please, pass the blunt to the Cracker on the left.

If I were to write one to Ed, it'd go a little like this:

Dear Ed:

I'm glad you aren't as much of a douchecanoe as you used to be. A little douchiness is healthy, but you took it to a whole other level for awhile there.

I'm glad you're good at math and mechanics. Between my reading/writing skills and your math skills our kid has a fighting chance.

Speaking of mechanics, thanks for being one. You know, since I can't even change a tire and all.

I'll be glad when we can get the pool cleaned out. It's naaaasty. And it's already so hot outside, that water needs to warm up and be swimmable soon.

We've been together for 12 years in some way, shape or form. We've been through a lot. We haven't killed each other. I think we deserve a t-shirt or something. Yay, us!

Love, Mandy

Do I suck for being so... I don't know what I am. I can't say "real" cause, like I said, I know most of the people that write the sugar blogs aren't being FAKE. I guess it'd just be fake if *I* wrote that stuff.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I just wish I could "conform" to all the sweetness without everyone calling me out. (Y'all know you would. The second I wrote "My dearest daughter..." someone would be callin "Shenanigans" on my behind!)

It doesn't help I feel miserable. Sugar when I don't feel good never helps. When I feel like crap, treat me as you would a wounded animal: carefully approach me in a non-threatening posture, put a mirror under my nose to make sure I'm breathing, toss some food and water at me- maybe a pain killer or two- and then back away slowly.

I am SUCH a mess.

I need, like, Candy-Land Boot Camp or something.

Bringin' the cray-cray to the yay-yays (<-- Yankees)

It never ceases to amaze me at what the prospect of flying north for a week will do for me. Kelly isn't going to be able to make it down here for awhile- and I hadn't planned on going until August- so, we decided to switch. Ima visit in the spring and she'll come in the fall (which is really just "still dead ass summer" here)

The nice thing about Ed being in Lake City is I now have an easier ride to the airport in Jacksonville. THAT's nice because I would need to be independently wealthy to afford a ticket outta Tallanasty these days. But with Skymiles, I can fly (non-stop! holla!) in and out of Jacksonville at decent times for the bargain price of $185. Now DAT's what I'm talkin bout!

And not that the yay-yays need any help (and not that I drink) but I'll be arriving on Cinco de Mayo. Coincidence? I think not.

The Vikings won't be around (curses!) but we ARE going to see the Twins play the Angels. I even got our awesome seats again. That guarantees us a day in the Cities and at the Mall of America. (I'm terribly afraid that I'm going to run into the DSW store and start murmuring "Precious" while I pet the shoes. Kelly SHOULD keep me from such things. But if she doesn't, rest assured, she'll get pictures and post em for the whole dang free world to see.)

T'would appear as though it's time to get my tan on!

Random Crap

I'm tired y'all. I really don't know why. I haven't really had any stress... I've been sleeping, eh, decent, at night. Got more daylight now with the time change. What gives?

I'm also homesick. I miss Minnesota. Bad. I guess more accurately, I miss Kelly. Bad. This morning I saw a picture of the landscape up there and almost went to tears. Turns out she's been feeling the same way I am. It's clear- we are HOT messes without each other. Needless to say, as soon as I get the "ok" from Ed's parents that they can keep her for me, I'm bookin' that ticket. Now that Ed is going to be in Lake City, I can fly outta Jacksonville (for cheaper AND non-stop! *happy dance*) and have a ride there and back with no problem.

Oh! Ed got his transfer date! He'll be leaving warm and sunny Central Florida for warm and sunny North Florida! He has to report to Jacksonville on April 9th, but since he's in a service truck, he'll really be working all over. We aren't sure when the shop in Lake City is gonna open. Another bonus, he's gonna set up a little place out by my parents' house. We talked to them about it this weekend. Daddy seems real happy that Ed's going to be there. I know I am. It'll be so nice to not have to coordinate weekends. If he's not here, we'll be there. Another happy thought was Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is THE holiday for my family. Ed hasn't been there the past 2 Thanksgivings and it's been hard on me. Now, when I go over there, he'll be waiting on me. Same with Christmas.

Let's see. I've been reading a lot lately. If y'all need book recommendations, hit me up. That seems to be the way I pass my time. It's so peaceful, all curled up with my Kindle, completely engrossed in a book in my little house. Huh- maybe I'm too zen and THAT'S why I'm so tired?

No news on the Twatwaffle front- and that's a good thing. Apparently he and Princess Kit-Kat are still going strong. Snaps to them. Well, to her, for putting up with his antics. Maybe they're molded from the same material. I know I can think of a LOT of ex's of Ed's that can't believe he settled down with someone.

So CJ starts Kindergarten on August 20th. I can't decide whether to be thrilled or cry. I've known this day was coming since I had her, but it just came too fast! I am encouraged, though, that she'll do really well. Her VPK teacher said the only concern she had was that CJ needed to get outta VPK and go on to Kindergarten cause she's so smart. (Teacher's words- not mine. I swear.) We know she can hear and see, she can write her name (Colleen- not CJ- though she can write that too, of course) she can count, understand directions when you read em to her... all I can think is "Durn. I KNOW I didn't know this much when I was her age!"

I guess that's all for now. I hate that I'm not full of snark and sarcasm today, but I am just too dang tired! I'm gonna meander around the office and see if that helps.

Peace and Love.

American By Birth, Southern By the Grace of God

This weekend I went back home and partook in the festivities of the annual Olustee Battle Festival & Reenactment. As in a Civil War Reenactment. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of a Civil War reenactment, go watch Sweet Home Alabama then come back and finish reading.

SO.

On Saturday my family and I went to the festival downtown. We clogged our arteries with Pulled Pork Sandwiches and Funnel Cakes, we watched the soldiers march down the parade route and we even went out to the battlefield to watch one of the reenactments. *

A little background on the Battle of Olustee: It was the largest Civil War battle fought on Florida soil and resulted in a major Confederate victory. This battle ended the Union invasion of Eastern Florida.

Y'all. I am a bonafied Daughter of the Confederacy. My grandfather's grandfather was a Confederate Captain. I'm a Daughter of the Confederacy and I'm damn proud of it.

What I am not, however, is a racist.

Apparently, the fact that I was at a reenactment of a battle that resulted in a Confederate victory and I was PROUD that it resulted in a Confederate victory makes me a racist.

I guess all of the black, Confederate reenactors are racist, too. I sure hope someone got them the memo.

So many people hear "Civil War" and think "Slavery". To fly the Confederate Battle Flag means you might as well be a member of the KKK.

REALLY?

Really?

Y'all, the Civil War was about states' rights. Slavery was but a small part of that equation. I have been to the north and lemme tell ya somethin- I have witnessed more racism and bigotry in the north than I EVER have down here. Sadly, racism is everywhere. And ironically, it's colorblind. It involves black people and white people and hispanic people and middle eastern people and all other kinds of peoples.

Yankees on their high horses go on and on about how awful us southerners are for being proud of our heritage, they say that we're MAD we lost the war and want slavery back. Most of our ancestors didn't own slaves.

Let me repeat that:

MOST OF OUR ANCESTORS DIDN'T OWN SLAVES.

I know my great-great granddaddy didn't. Prolly most of em didn't agree with slavery, either. They dang sure believed in the states' rights though. And that's why they fought.

Y'all ever heard of "Carpetbaggers"? No? Let me enlighten you: Carpetbaggers were Yankees who came down south during reconstruction and treated the southerners like trash.

Nothin' pisses me off more than hoity-toity Yankees (or anyone else for that matter) thinkin they're all that and a bag of Skittles because clearly WE (the southerners) are insensitive, racist bastards and they were just perfect lil angels. No, no, Yankees. Y'all were meany-heads too.

Y'all remember that little thing called the Revolutionary War? We got pissed at England and fought back. We won. We became a great nation. Do the British hate us? For the most part, no. They're among our strongest allies. Do we label Brits anti-American because of what their ancestors did? No. British soldiers fought for what they believed in just like American soldiers fought for what they believed in. The Civil War is no different. I bet the Brits are GLAD they lost- especially since it was their former territory that helped save their rear ends during WWII.

So I say all of THAT to say THIS: Just because I rooted on my boys in grey on Saturday don't mean I'm racist and I'm pissed off that we lost the war anymore than it means a Northerner who is proud they won the war is a Carpetbagger.

I am proud to be a southerner. I am proud of my heritage. I refuse to be ashamed of it. I am 110% against slavery, racism and anything else that resembles slavery and racism. We all have skeletons in our closet. The Yankees have the Carpetbaggers and we have Slavery. I know I joke about the "Yankee Varmints," but, I'm GLAD that the events happened in such a way as to unite our great country. I'm GLAD that I can hop a plane to Minnesota to see my BFF and my Twin and play in the snow (when they have it). And I know my BFF is happy to hop a plane to Florida and play in the warm water and bake at the beach.

Don't hate, y'all. Just... don't. Be proud to be American. Embrace ALL our history- even the ugly parts- because it helped make our country into the awesome piece of land it is today.

Et tu, Subconscious?

So two nights in a row I've had these long, vivid dreams. I don't know about y'all, but my dreams are always chopped up or don't follow along any sort of plot line. These dreams though, theeese were different. I can even remember thinking "Wow. This is a really long dream... and it makes sense. Freaky."

Saturday night I had a dream that certain people from a certain state that I frequent came to Florida to visit. A certain someone from that certain group of people from that certain state that I frequent was also here. That certain someone was dating their own certain someone. This whole dream sequence ends with me getting a kiss on the cheek, a smile and "I could get used to this." Then a REAL kiss that screamed "I love you. I've always loved you. I'm not going anywhere." *

* In my defense, I was reading City of Glass this weekend (It's part of The Mortal Instruments series, by Cassandra Clare. Read it. Better n' Twilight. Promise.) Anywho, in this particular part of the book, Clary and Jace were tortured because they loved each other and couldn't be together. I'd like to think that was a major contributing factor to the dream. I'd like to THINK that, but it's probably not true.

So I woke up yesterday morning feeling rested, peaceful and happy (since my dream had been so peaceful and happy). Then I realized it was a dream. Then I was sad. Then I did the whole pissed n' bitter thing again and cussed the bejezus outta my subconcious.

Then I went to church. Cause cussin' is wrong. Even if it's your own subconcious.

This brings me to last night: I watched the Super Bowl.*

*Madonna SERIOUSLY looked like She-Ra when she first came on stage, y'all. SHE-RA.

I ironed. I finished my book and started another one. I texted my BFF.

And then I found out that the certain someone from my dream the previous night wanted to bring his new girlfriend and her little girl to an upcoming birthday party. Ugh. Can I NOT escape all of this? (At least my BFF has my back. She's in charge of the shindig and assured me I would be rep-rah-zent-ed. *fist bump*)

I mulled all this over while I read and showered and did my end of the night stuff. I took my sleeping meds, but they didn't work. The only time THAT happens is when Gerty's acting up. So, a special shout out to Gerty for NOT HELPING MY ISSUES AT ALL, you hag!

I didn't fall asleep until past midnight.

Then my subconscious sucker punched me AGAIN.

It graced me with another long and vivid dream. Wait. Did I say dream? I meant nightmare. And yes, I'm going to bore you with it. Because I hate symbolism and I'm sick of this BS so I want someone else's opinion on WTF my subconscious has against me.

In this dream I was going out to help some scientists research this fault line in the ocean. The water was just pouring into it. It looked really cool actually. So we do our research and go back to the beach house.

I feel it important to note that there was no one in this dream that I knew. Just me and a bunch of faceless scientists.

So we're at the house and I look out the back window (which, incidentally is the back wall. The entire wall is glass) and I see this tsunami coming at us. I distinctly remember thinking "Well, you're researching a fault line just offshore, of course there's going to be a tsunami. Wow. That thing's gotta be 100ft high!") The guy that owns the house tells us not to panic, we're high enough that the water will miss us and the pillars of the house are embedded into the bedrock, so just hold on- the house was tsunami-proof. Sure enough, I feel the impact of the wave and see things underneath us wash out, but we're okay.

WHEW, right?

No.

No sooner did that wave pass then I look out and see another one coming for us. And another impact. And another impact. (Interestingly enough, all of the waves were the EXACT same height and looked EXACTLY the same. I even remember that the water was dark blue as it was coming at us) After about 3 or 4 waves the guy says "Ok, well the house wasn't built to withstand THIS much action, so we need to evacuate onto the boat"*

*Apparently, while my subconscious had no problems torturing me, it couldn't seem to come up with a plausible explanation as to WHY the boat was still there after 4 tsunamis. Whatevs, Subconscious. Whatevs.

So now we're on the boat. And the waves keep a comin'... and the boat keeps a rockin'. Cause we can't go anywhere. We're stuck. Something's wrong with the motor. So even though we aren't in the house anymore, we're still sitting ducks.

I was never really terrified. Just... TIRED. Instead of thinking "OMG! I'm gonna DIE!" I was thinking "Son of a... can't SOMEONE drop a nuke in that fault line and stop these gotdang tsunamis? I'm TIRED!"

The last wave was the worst, though, it actually completely rolled the boat. I DO remember thinking "Ok. Wow. Well, this one is gonna finish us off."

And then my alarm went off.

So I turned off the alarm AND WENT RIGHT BACK INTO THE DREAM WHERE I LEFT OFF.

That never happens. Once you wake up from a dream, you're up.*

*Or so I thought

Apparently Subconscious wasn't quite done torturing me.

So I go back into the dream*

*and remember thinking IN THE DREAM "Wow... this is a long snooze button. Shouldn't it be going off soon?"

and SOMEHOW that wave DIDN'T kill me. I was given an option: Stick around and figure out the cause of all the waves, or evacuate. I distinctly remember thinking "Nuh-uh. I know what caused all this to happen. I wanna go HOME!"

Then CJ, bless her, came in and woke me up. The reason I heard no snooze button, apparently, was I turned the dang alarm OFF. Thank the Maker I had only slept an extra 7 minutes past when I HAD to be up.

I felt like DEATH, y'all. Felt like I had LITERALLY stood on the shores and battled tsunami, after tsunami, after tsunami.

So I did what any reasonable person would do. I got to work and Googled the shiznit outta "Tsunami Dreams." Here's the jist of what I came up with:

Water in dreams symbolizes emotions. Tsunamis represent repressed emotions which can no longer be held back, or an emotional situation which is about to burst into the waking world. The fact that I kept facing the tsunami over and over again indicates a way of dealing with whatever emotions it represents. (So either the emotions keep coming back or Ima stand there like the stubborn witch I am till they go away. Prolly both.) Apparently the height of the wave symbolizes the size of the problems or emotions (lil’ wave=lil problem etc). I guess a 100ft wave is nothing to sneeze at, but it’s not like it’s 2012 or The Day After Tomorrow sized, ya know? So it’s a problem that needs to be handled, but isn’t catastrophic.

*My* guess is being upset about that certain someone yesterday and last night contributed. The anger and irritation keep coming up over and over again, so I keep facing it over and over again (like the wave). I’m not sure if the wave means that I’ve been dealing with it for a long time or I’m GOING to be dealing with it for a long time. Either way. Clearly, it’s bugging me.

Another hypothesis (offered up by a dear friend) was that the height of the waves indicated the height of my emotional investment. I know I'm strong, so I face them. But I also know that by doing so, I'm going to get banged up pretty bad. I know I have to go through it though, so I stand alone and face it (which explains why I was the only one I knew in the dream).

I'd like to think that means I'm kinda bad ass. Messed up in the head, sure. But kinda bad ass. I didn't run from it, at least. I faced it down. Over and over and over again.

I welcome anyone's thoughts on this. I'm tired of mine. I've tried being logical, reasonable, negotiable... but my subconscious just won't let go. And I don't know how to make it.