I think my internal editor has been dead for quite some time. I wish someone had notified me.

Sent to New Guy back in April:

...I am not calling it a nightmare. I slept for seven hours straight and the dream did not wake me. I don't know if that is because I threw caution to the wind before bed and drank more than what I have been letting myself do lately, because I was just exhausted... I don't know.

Anyway, I dreamed of an insurance salesman who lived in a nearby neighborhood where the homes had basements (though none around here really do). I remember there was a storm and some flooding and he was explaining to me about the animals that he kept in his basement and how he had to bring them upstairs because of the flooding. He seemed very fond of them and quite concerned about their well-being. For some reason, I went to his house to see the animals, but I felt scared so I couldn't go inside. He was not offended by this and then he told me how glad he was that he had a good insurance policy to cover the damage.

My take? The dissociation is back. It's my insurance policy against flooding. And it's better than Allstate. My take had better be right because my alternative reading is that the basement is my unconscious and all the scary animals are being brought upstairs into the living space. That can't happen. It just can't. The beer is gone, so I'm going to bed now. If I see that insurance guy, then he's in for a really big commission. I'm in a buying mood, you know? If he'll have all the
critters put to sleep, I'll even throw in a really awesome blow job. I don't want those animals up here. They make me scared and very lonely and desperate. I'm sick and tired of feeling the crying place of the little girl. Do you know how fucked up it is to be smiling, dry-eyed and trying to concentrate and carry on conversation when your body swears that you are really sobbing your heart out face down on a tiny rock hurtling through empty space? It sucks. And I'd drink or fuck just about ANYTHING to make it go away. If those animals come up here, I'm going to hurt them. I'm going to hurt them bad. I'm sick of their crap. If insurance guy won't do his fucking job, then I'll do it for him. I'm fresh out of patience.

(And if this dream indicates flooding that is coming my way, then I know what pushed things over the edge. That would be Wednesday night's dinner out with the husband and the rocks that I saw, got triggered by, and brushed aside. Frankly, I'm beginning to miss the agoraphobia and I'm angry. I might refuse to leave the house just on principle or entertain myself by being rude to strangers when I do go out. I LIKE being rude. It's fun.)

My current observations:

1. I realized through recurrent dreams, that New Guy was the insurance salesman in this dream. How fucking embarrassing if you consider that he probably figured that out before I did. Doubly embarrassing because I can't control my mouth, even in writing, as evidenced by, "If I see that insurance guy, he's in for a really big commission. I'm in a buying mood, you know? If he'll have all the critters put to sleep, I'll even throw in a really awesome blow job." Like I said, how fucking embarrassing. But I'm glad new Guy isn't some kind of opportunistic pervert.

2. Sometimes I guess I will do ANYTHING to make it go away. No wonder I clung to Old Guy. He wanted it gone, too. No matter the cost (of which he is ignorant anyway).

3. The last desperate email to New Guy, asking him to do something to make things go away, was met with both refusal and comfort. He knows making it 'go away' is the problem. AND he is willing to be here for me to help me stand it when it can't go away. He won't leave. And THIS is the metaphorical 'fat suit' I referred to a couple of posts ago.

4. Maybe the thing I am going to do on Wednesday (quit Old Guy) really is the right thing. I know it is. But there is the little girl. The good thing is - she loves New Guy, too.

5. It's been so hard for me to try to keep all of me together on the same page, so exhausting to keep the feelings and opinions of ALL OF ME in awareness around this decision. I'm so fucking tired. It has taken all of my energy and I'm starting to get that feeling of needing a safe place to fall down. I need the 'fat suit'? Can I trust? I get so afraid about shit like that. So afraid, so tired... and yet I still have to budget, shop, cook, clean, watch the markets, keep a calendar and agenda for my family, take care of myself... eat, sleep, bathe... I'm not the absolute best at these things, but I do them. Sometimes I don't know how I make it happen. Oh, wait... yes, I DO know. Dissociation. Which has been somewhat lacking. No wonder I'm so fucking tired.