I love my family [A draft I wrote 7 months ago]

In the darkest depths and brightest altitudes,
my family has always been there.
My inner circle is actually a triangle.
Consisting of my mum, brother and me.
It’s always been just us.
Like the rings of a tree,
our relatives,
family friends,
and acquaintances
Help make up the tree that you see.

Some how that came out more poetic than I meant it to lol It’s how I feel though. In the darkest depths of my depression and grief, they’ve always been there. They’re always there to throw out a flotation device. Sometimes I don’t even see it. So it drifts about on it’s tether, with them on the other side. Sometimes I think I ignore it, wanting to sink to the bottom and drown. Sometimes, the life line falls perfectly over me. Nevertheless, they always pull me in. There’s always a clean change of clothes, blanket and a hot drink.

I love my family.

My mind is an orchestra

Imagine that your mind is made of several instruments, a mini orchestra of sorts. Working cohesively. Keys are pressed, strings are plucked and air is exhaled, all iminating sound. The universe is the composer and you are the Conductor.

Now imagine the feeling you get, when you stand in front of a huge and loud speaker. Think of how the bass feels when it moves through your body.

This is what it feels like in my mind, when I’m listening to classical music. My favourites are romantic nocturnes and ballads. Allegro makes my mind feel chaotic and that’s not the result I’m aiming for.

As the music plays, it uses my mind as an instrument. Every time a significant note is played, it feels like my mind is reacting. It feels as if the notes are using my illusive synapses as strings to pluck, the neurons move in time with the speed. When a key is struck it feels like my mind expands gently with the note being played.

This is how I get to sleep. It puts my mind into a state of utter rest and relaxation. My body melts into my mattress and I dissolve into slumber.

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while.

Meditation is important.
I wake up feeling very refreshed the next morning when I do this.

It’s my new tool of self care.
I’m learning as I go.
Shifting from one end of the universe to the other.

I’m convinced I’m stunted emotionally and mentally. A year ago, mentally – I felt and acted as if I was 16 years old.

With the changes that have occurred over time, my mind has moved from feeling as if I’m 16, then slowly to 18. Right now, I feel like I’m 19. Mature but not just independent enough. I have 4 more years to catch up to.

It’s okay to be a late bloomer.
Work on it.
It just means that you’re going to peak a bit later in life.
And that absolutely fine.

Work on yourself.
Love yourself.
Heal yourself.
Care for yourself.

Dusty Mollys

In my earliest blogs, I used to write about the several minty’s that ruled my conscious mind. I don’t write about them anymore because they’ve been put on a shelf. They’re in storage.

The other night I was talking to my mum. I told her that I didn’t feel like I could handle working my one shift a week.. on top of my full time study. We eventually agreed that I will stick it out.

Mum told me to leave Little Minty at home. She can be out from 8pm Saturday til 8am Monday morning. Little Minty is my inner self that needs a lot of nurturing.

She personified a couple new Mintys. “KFC Minty” and “IT Minty”. KFC Minty has almost impecible work ethics. She also named an IT Minty this is the studious one.

I said to my mum “KFC Minty” is on the shelf collecting dust. I put her there when I quit my last job. That’s when I realised the others were too.

My counsellor gave me an article some time ago. The writer talks about her inner egos and how they were a part of her.

As time goes by I’m realising that I have negative inner egos and also productive ones.

My Minty’s are lined up on the shelf are like dollys. Hence, Molly’s. Minty dollys! Some come out for play time. Some don’t.

We giggled when I said, oh! And smelly minty – Smolly! Lol

Life is a balancing act.
We’re always walking on a tight rope.

Edit: I read this post to my mum. She said to me that life isn’t always a tight rope. Sometimes it’s like a playground. Which totally makes sense if you’re taking dollys out to play.

Why didn’t we just leave straight away?

In a south Auckland suburb lived a family of three. A mother and her two children. A son and a daughter.

They lived in a humble unit, down a long driveway. Three units lined up beside each other, like plastic monopoly houses. At the bottom of the driveway, three more. Theirs was the third. Smack bang in the middle. One side of their unit sat flush with the second, whilst the other side was lined with grass and an overgrown lemon tree.

People were coming. A group, but why? To ransack? To kidnap? For a cup of tea? No one knew. But they prepared themselves. For some reason they didn’t leave as soon at they were ready. They waited til night. They lay in their beds, all in one room. For some reason they had a visitor. They sat against the window. Their head in full view. Why the fuck are you here?

Night fell. Flash lights lit up the Windows. Darting down the side of the house.

Off they go. Out the front door. With their visitor in tow.

Visitor behind.
Imposter behind them.
No one looking back.
While the rest followed.

Down the long driveway.

——-

This was a dream I had night. The visitor was one of the siblings I mentioned in the previous post. The imposters, they reminded me of door to door sales people. You just want them to go away.

With that death looming, one of the sisters has been in contact with my mum. This makes me feel uneasy. What if they find out where I live? What if they try to weasel their way back in?

For years, the two sisters have tried to get in contact with me. They want to make ammends. I will not forgive. I will not forget.

They trail behind and I don’t want to look back.

My mum gave them a donation to help with preparations. She said it was from her and the kids. This irked me but I know she did it with good intentions. I don’t want them to think they are in my good graces. I want them to know I loathe them.

I want them to stop trying.
I want them to fuck off.

I forget about the darker side of myself when I’m feeling so stable. Seems like a figurment of my imagination.

It’s not though.

I mostly blame them for being the root of my lack of mental well-being. Each one sowed several dark seeds in pivotal times of my life. They broke me as a child. No child should have “role models” like them growing up.

I hate them for that.

In an alternate universe

In alternate universes I’m many things. In one I’m a young mother with children in primary school. In another I’m married to my first love. In another I’m a newly graduated nurse.

All the people I started my nursing degree with are all graduating. They’re uploading their photos in their gowns, putting up posts about passing their state exam.

I feel left behind. I know that path wasn’t for me. I can’t help but feel like I failed at going through with it.

I’m being too hard on myself again.

I don’t like sleeping – Have you seen my mum?

The feeling of losing your mum in a store, is an all too familiar feeling shared by most.

I dreamt that I lost my mum and brother. You know that feeling you get when you’re frantically looking around the store crying for your mum? I woke up feeling that way. I dreamt that I was driven through the suburb I grew up in. Feeling dread as I was driven past old familiar places with the hope of finding them. The first place was the home I grew up in. It’s down a long shared driveway and you’d always know mum was home because she parked right outside on the grass or in front of the garage. I had a panic attack in my dream, I couldnt breathe and was crying. Where are they? There was no car and the house was boarded up. Dread. I then drove past a street, I looked down the road an saw mum’s car parked. She has a very distinctive car lol I wanted to get out and see if it was them, although I knew in my heart it was them. The driver wouldn’t let me out. He reminded me of a rude bus driver. I thought “fuck this. Fuck you!” So I opened the door and rolled out of the moving car. I got up unscathed (only in dream land) and made my way there.

They were there! In a small apartment that seemed safe and locked away from the outside world. Mum told me she waited for me, in two different locations that must have been significant some how. She was crying and so was I.

She said something before I woke up that felt significant. I can’t remember it though but I remember feeling loved. I think she was scared because she couldn’t find me in these two seemingly significant places.

I woke up crying. I hate the feeling of pure dread when I wake up from a bad dream.

I often worry about what I will do, how I will manage in life without her. I’m not ready for the real world and she is my biggest pillar. Like the structural integrity of a bridge.

I lost my dad at 21. I can live life without him though, he was never around. My mum thinks she’s living on borrowed time, that scares me. Her dad died when she was 20, almost the same age as me too.

I can’t stop crying now.

I don’t want to live without my mum.

@6.24am

**I couldn’t sleep again last night. I thought I’d jot down the thoughts that had been rushing through my mind through out the early morning. I might even expand on some of them on another day!

Cold weather
How I would help people in this cold weather if I could

Cracked marbles
Jewellery
Art

Studs
Fashion
Teen life

Past relationship
Alcoholism

Being hung over
Throwing up out of a car going 100km/hr

Job hunting
Rejection
Growing
Learning
Support

Clicking my fingers

Losing my loved ones

Morning traffic silences my mind

List of gratefuls
Reviving my list of gratefuls

The universe

Dreaming

“Why did you go there? From beyond. You saw it all. Why did you go there?”

“Dreaming of screaming. Someone kick me out of my mind, I hate these thoughts I can’t deny.”

Those are lyrics from a song called Dreaming by System of a Down. I’m lying here thinking about dreams and it popped into my mind.

It just dawned on me that I don’t like dreaming. I always have nightmares and wake up scared with my mind and heart racing. Don’t you just hate that?

I guess on nights where I find it hard to sleep, like tonight, I don’t give my body enough time to go through the necessary stages of sleep in order to rest the way it needs to.

I find myself feeling tired. My eyes hurt but when I shut my eyes my mind is alive and buzzing away behind my eyelids.

I’ve always had problems sleeping and I know it’s myself keeping me awake. I know there are things I should try in order to quiet my mind. Sometimes I get caught up in this hypothetical world between my ears. I think about what if, what should of been, what should be, what will be, who will be, will I?, why?, when, how, what would of been, what could of been. It’s like an awkward primary school disco. The music is loud, the bass is pumping through your chest but barely anyone is dancing. Just standing on the outer edges of the hall.

I remember… last year, a week after new years. I woke up in the early hours of the morning. I woke up crying, not sobbing.. but full on crying. I felt as though my heart had been broken. I sat up still feeling hurt, my cheeks hurt from crying. I felt as though I had woken up mid conversation. I had no memory of the dream at all. I turned my pillow over and went back to sleep.
It was noon later that day when my nana called me on my mobile phone. My dad passed away the night before.
It wasn’t until acouple days later that I remembered crying in my sleep the night before.

If dreams are a medium for communication then that scares me.

A couple weeks ago my mum dreamt about my dad. She told me that she dreamt they were catching up. He asked about me and she told him I was going to study IT. Apparently in her dream she had to repeat herself because he didn’t hear her the first time. I was going to be a nurse before he passed away so I can understand why he might of been confused.

It’s not the first time she’s dreamt about him. My brother did too one night, as well as my mum but she didn’t tell him. I think it was to stop him from freaking out. My brother never did tell us about his dream.

I often dream about my ex boyfriend too. This is different though. It’s a compilation of my thoughts mushed into an ugly inverted romantic comedy. Except I’m the joke lol I guess I find it hard to let go sometimes. It’s always about rejection and heartache. I guess that sounds more like a romantic drama where no one lives happily ever after.

I’m really good at avoiding things until the last minute. Especially if it scares me.

Dreams. I could believe that dreams are more than a reflection of someone’s inner psyche. I could believe that dreaming are a doorway or a medium for communication.

Sleeping works in stages of wave lengths right? I remember when I was younger I would feel and see things that weren’t really there. Shadows peeking from around the corners. Feeling a presence or two. Maybe I was actually going through a phase of psychosis. My mum has always been understanding though. The best advice she had given me in regards to it was to tune into a different frequency. Seperate myself from that wave length. I could believe that wavelengths overlap. Similar wave lengths, different planes.

How will you know unless you think?
How will you know unless you try?
How will you know unless you do?