I dreamt I was in the house in which I spent my childhood. It was a large house, but in the dream it was huge and gloriously lit within. It was Halloween night, and I was seeing it from the outside, full of orange light and containing hundreds of rooms.

I don't remember much about what happened. I do remember having a conversation about gaming with my friend John. We decided to have a "pick-up" game every Saturday before our normal game, and only a few people could be involved. I wanted to be DM, but he insisted that he should do it, and I gave in, though I was disappointed.

I wandered the rooms to look for my friend Terry, who seemed to be waiting for me. I was supposed to get ready, to take a shower and put on fresh clothes. I was distracted by other people in the rooms, though I don't remember who or why. Finally, I found Terry and promised him that I was going to finally take a shower and change clothes. But when I got into the bathroom, I saw that all of my clothes had been thrown into the shower and were soaked. I don't know why I couldn't just wear the clothes I was wearing in the dream (were they dirty?), and I knew I couldn't dry my other clothes in time. I got this feeling of loss, like it was too late, whatever "it" may be.

I woke up feeling very sad, almost panicked.

I can't feel angry without feeling guilty afterward. I always wonder if I look like a complete ass...am I overreacting? should I just let whatever made me angry wash over me like water?

I suppose so. In most cases, that would be the "bigger" thing to do, to let go of petty annoyances and wounded feelings. But then I wonder if I'm letting the offender use me as a door matt. And then I wonder if I really deserve to be angry...maybe it's my fault that this is happening.

On and on I argue with myself. I can't feel anything without analyzing into oblivion first.

This Saturday, Andy and I are supposed to go to Joe's house for his daughter's birthday. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but I just feel so distanced from them. I don't feel like I want to make the effort, which is just so shitty. If they ask about whether I've found a job or not, my ulcer will explode, and I will finally die and not have to deal with anything.

God, my mood is changing faster than my brain can keep up. I know I am finally going crazy, and that's OK. Something has to give, and I guess it's me.

I've spent most of the morning reading the most insulting garbage ever.

I was doing a search and happened upon a posting board full of biting, mean replies: insults to a poster's religion, education, intelligence. People filled with hostility towards other beliefs, misinformation about history, culture. I just felt sick, and yet I couldn't stop reading, I had to see where all of these diatribes were going.

It isn't surprising that they went nowhere. No issues were solved, people's feelings were wounded and one by one either from exhaustion or frustration they dropped out of the "discussion."

I have to admire someone who has such extreme beliefs to the point of knowing that they are always right. That kind of tenacity is daunting. I have no idea of what is true and what is not. I try to see both sides of a matter, but usually end up being more confused than before.

It's not that I can't make up my mind or form my own opinion. I just can't say that either side is truly RIGHT and that bothers me, especially when it is so simple and obvious to some people. Am I missing something?

back on track...

I think. I've been writing out to-do lists to accomplish each morning. It seems like such a small thing, but it's working. It's surprising how a little organization helps.

I'm still dreading going to the umemployment office though.

I've been hiding from the world.

Isn't that funny, since I've been putting my thoughts and feelings on the web for a long time, long before I found this site. It is true enough though; I do hide, I hide from myself even.

When I was a little girl, when I got embarrassed (and for a shy, overly-sensitive child that was often), I would run and hide someplace small. Our house had many cubbyholes that I used: the crawlspace under the stairs that led into the "family room;" the walk-in closet in the bedroom I shared with my sisters; the toy cabinet in the family room (which, when my mother dried the laundry, got humid and smelled of fabric softener). Mostly I would cry and feel stupid for crying.

I wish I knew myself as a child. I mean, I wish I could go back as an adult and meet myself as a child. Would I like myself, or would I see a sniveling crybaby? I suspect I would see a lonely child, regardless.

One thing I like about Starhawk's Spiral Dance book is that she talks about Young Self, Talking Self, and Deep Self (Julia Cameron has something similar in her books as well). Young Self is like the Freudian Id or the subconscious, and Talking Self is Ego or conscious self. Scientifically, there usually isn't a personality correspondence to Deep Self, which is the part of us that connected to the Divine (or whatever you like to call it). Some people call that the Holy Guardian Angel, but that's a little too specific for me.

Anyway, Young Self is aptly named because it is pretty much a child version of the personality. It is intuitive and creative and likes bright, shiny objects. It is also connected directly to Deep Self. Talking Self likes to talk a lot and reason things out. Part of Magick is getting Talking Self to listen to Young Self.

I know my Young Self is pretty unhappy. I haven't listened to her for a long time, regardless of whatever magical workings or exercises I have been doing. I don't tend to listen to her at all. I don't know why that is. I guess I worry a lot about "doing right." I daydream a lot, and I feel like I have to force myself to do normal adult things like go to work or do laundry. If I do those things then I can indulge in play. If I don't, then I don't deserve to play.

I guess I'm just too worried to play. I can't seem to stay in the moment, the present. I have to worry about the future and agonize over the past, and it paralyzes me from acting at all.

Damn, I'm tired of analyzing myself.

Still Unemployed....

Of course, I haven't even started looking for work yet. I feel sort of paralyzed. I can't stand the idea of making a resume ("my work history is terrible! who in their right mind will hire me?"), or going to interviews ("what is your worst trait?"). I am so afraid of being broke as well. And yet, I went out this morning for a coffee and the sun was shining in spite of me and I thought:

Life is good, and life will go on being good with or without me.

So I did my yoga and wrote some emails. I've been making "to do" lists so that I have a semi-organized day. It seems important to have a schedule so that I don't spend this time in idleness. I would hate to have months go by and have nothing to show for all that time, that I didn't write that novel like I said I would or progress spiritually or loose 10 pounds even. That I wasted all this precious time sleeping or playing video games or worse, sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

And yet, I am unable to allow myself to truly be calm and do nothing. Meditating is hard for me. I can't be here and now, I have to be in the future ("what will I do to find a job?") or in the past ("what did I do, or didn't do, that cost me my job?").

I am so surprised at how lost I feel by not having a job. Andy used to tell me that I am not my job, and even though I don't think I defined myself by it, I did define my life by it. You get up, you go to work, you come home and do whatever. Now what do I get up for? To face a whole day of frightening openess and freedom? I know people who would kill to be in this position and yet, I am terrified by it. I have no idea what to do next.