Day 105 – the trolls, the well, the mini-mare…

Last night I had a dream that I drank. It was an awful dream… I was surrounded by trolls, and there were two trolls specifically running the gig. The dream is fractured in memory but they were supposed to be family and yet they weren’t. They had evil intentions — hubris, was the word that came to me last night, I had to look it up — and I felt it intuitively (rather more like a truck on fire, careening straight toward me), but did not believe my own instinct. And I entirely blamed myself.

I am in fact partly at fault for any negativity that comes at me. I am aware of that. But it takes two to twist or tango, two to interact… I can’t take *all* the blame for others’ feelings, actions nor reactions. There are those (including me) who speak in gushing or high-minded or even at times spiritually-infused terms of unconditional love, and yet no matter how much we mean it in the moment, none of us (well certainly not me) is capable of giving it at all times. That much is clear. If we were, we’d be sitting in a cave, lotus-legged and hands in a mudra, until we blissfully disappeared. So all I can do is forgive those who attack me and that way perhaps, perhaps, I can just *begin* to forgive myself.

I wrote a post yesterday that was too hard to write, too easy to publish, got two views and no likes and I, in the middle of making tarte aux tomates, set it to “private.” This is the seemingly constant state of my stupidity and my fragility. I felt the tiny corner of my world go large and silent and loud around me. I felt terrible shame for having spoken of two taboo topics, and in the same post. What was I up to? Had I lost my mind? (The fact is probably, yes…)

I have a terrible memory of being bullied at school for speaking my mind… I remember answering, quite innocently, “From the monkeys,” when the teacher asked the class “Where do we come from?”

As you can imagine, that was social death to a child in suburban mainstream primary school. The bullies of the class had apparently not, at the tender age of 6 or 7, learned about evolution (quite likely all three of them were attending Sunday School). So from then on, only *I,* who had been taught by my father, from the day I could understand words, to tell “the truth above all, and live and let live” was from the monkeys, or so said the three loud ones. The fact is I didn’t mind being “from the monkeys.” But I did mind being hated for it… and still do. Working on it…

Anyway, the details of the dream are now unclear. I do remember being lowered down a well, and though that sounds awful, for some reason it wasn’t in the dream; it was just part of the way things were going, it was on a kind of comfortable bench seat, and well-lit, almost as in an amusement ride. In the end I was in an orange-carpeted room, wood-panelled walls. This scene, unstylish as it may seem, has particular comforting meaning for me. A room full of people, sitting on chairs and a comfy floral-patterned sofa, lined around the four small walls, TV trays and live music, “we are our own entertainment,” singing and dancing and recital of old stories, a homey joyful scene, such as one from childhood at my grandparents’ —

Sidenote: Booze is confusing for me. All the good times in childhood seemed to include adults drinking and making merry. As I’ve said, I had a lucky childhood, for which I’m intensely grateful, and for which I also feel ashamed at my own seeming fragility in spite of it. I could say that the combination of my lucky childhood and the fact that alcohol was prevalent in social scenes throughout it, I was all the more pre-programmed to crave alcohol, which in some ways certainly is true. Yet I also know, thanks to some of your stories, that creating a pristine booze-free microcosmic environment is no sure preventative either. It’s different for everyone.

But in this dream, and in this familiar situation, there was a sinister undertone and I somehow I thoughtlessly accepted and drank a drink (I don’t even know or remember what it was! That’s how mindlessly I drank it; I only remember that familiar softly burning flavour on the tongue), I believe it was from one of the two Brothers Grimm. (What the Brothers Grimm were doing at my grandparents’ house, in this “once upon a time,” did not matter in the dream; they were in the disguise of enormous and brutish trolls, and yet none of us seemed to mind. We were after all an accepting family.) After I realized what I’d unconsciously done, chugging back even just this one drink of this (so disappointingly!) toxic-to-me substance, I was so, so horribly saddened… at that hard work, all those 104 days, wasted… 

That’s how it felt, at least. I fell as into a mental pit of despair, at the fading edges of the dream. But before I woke up, I remember this one thought: No matter, I will begin again.

I write this here for any of you, for whom my mini-mare verged on reality… I have been there many times. Too many to count. And yet when I thought that was my reality, I still wanted to continue on this hard path… climbing back up that well.

The day is gorgeously bright and sunny here, and I am sending love… and so much gratitude to you…

And apologies for all my screw-ups on this blog. If you are looking to me for guidance, probably best to look elsewhere… still no clue what I am doing. Writing the number of the days on the posts is at once my route up the side of that well, and at the same time shaming… I’d hoped I’d be getting wiser by now.

As Wendy said, it’s not exactly better, but different… and yet for me, different is better. Because the reason I made it different, was because I finally could not bear it to be the same any more.

 

xo

sobrietytree

24 thoughts on “Day 105 – the trolls, the well, the mini-mare…

  1. “No matter what, I will begin again.” That’s perfect and my current thought!
    I think you give great advice that’s super relatable!
    I think some of us are just born more fragile than others, and that’s okay. 😊
    I think I love you just the way you are!
    Enjoy your sunny day and sending love back!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Jackie, means a lot… such warm and generous words as always. 💖”I think some of us are just born more fragile than others, and that’s okay. 😊” — and that will carry me through the day. 🙏 Now off to deal with the vagool, again… 🙄😄😇

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Lol!! Good luck! You have had a lot of patience with the vagool. I was recently checked out by a cashier named Patience and thought to myself “Yah there’s a reason that my parents didn’t chose that name for me.” 😂😂😂

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Omg patience yes not my name either. Have it siphoning now (and am feeling so stupidly proud that I know how to siphon with nothin’ but a garden hose 😅🤓). Wish I could figure out what the issue is with its weird shape problem this year!!! #PoolShapeOddities 💋👄#wtf

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  2. I think sometimes when people view but don’t interact, it’s because they don’t know in that moment how to react – not necessarily that they’re being judgmental or think you shouldn’t be talking about the subjects in question.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Absolutely agree… basically the problem is that I have issues. 😩I didn’t really express things well enough in this post (nor the other one, for that matter)… but in addition to the non-likes, I received what I perceived as a negative response (not via comments). It hurt but I sort of agreed. 😬But also felt sangry at the ironic self-righteousness out there… Thanks for reading ❤︎

      Liked by 1 person

        1. It’s brutal!!! 😂😭😂 I keep meaning to seek professional help, but it doesn’t seem simple and I’m also a major procrastinator… and then the anxiety of choosing, and also the cost, which would be out of pocket. 😑 Need to return to morning pages… that was a great therapy for me. 🧐✍️🧘🏼‍♂️ A kind of active meditation.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. Out of pocket cost for mental health care is a serious problem, for sure. I didn’t start going until we found out my husband’s health insurance included 6 free visits (it went up to 10 this year). And my therapist worked with me on price for continued visits after those.

            I do think it would be worth trying if you’re ever able to get to the point where you can overcome the anxiety involved long enough to pick someone to visit.

            Liked by 1 person

  3. That was vivid.
    The drinking dreams always remind me of what I don’t want…guilt, fear, a need to pretend. Would I tell? Hide? Shudder.

    Your blog is awesome. Keep writing.

    Stillness and peace
    Anne

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Totally agree… for me it was as though living my little recent fantasies of having a drink, and knowing (very realistically through the dream) what that would feel like afterwards…

      Anne, thanks so much for your kind words… they mean more than I can say… and thanks also for the stillness and peace, which I need to find again, indeed.

      ❤️

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        1. So true and uplifting, Anne. I remember seeing an Glennon Doyle’s wrist tattoo “Be Still” years ago, and being inspired by that… did you ever post a photo of yours somewhere? (Please leave a link if you did… 🙏😙)

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  4. I love what you write. Please don’t stop sharing your writing. I have been lazy as of late to write and read blogs. I missed your post. I have been trying to head in a new direction. Realised that this is happening because I am sober. So yay.
    Forgiving yourself is not conditional on anything else. It is a choice. A difficult one. God knows why but it is so hard to be kind and gentle to oneself.
    And there are no screw-ups on your blog. It is your blog and you can do what you like within reason.
    Hugs (if you’re a hug person.) and a smile.

    Like

    1. Dear LT his just made my morning… was going through comment notifications and this was such a very lovely surprise!!! Thank you so much, makes a big difference to my feelings about this blog… And thanks for the hugs and smiles, I am very much a hug person… and a smile person. ((((((((hugs))))))))) and smiles back, quite exuberantly 😊🤗😊🤗😊

      Liked by 1 person

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