I had it again. The dream, or nightmare rather, that I loathe. Writing it here again, hoping to chase it out of my subconscious. I know why I had it. Yesterday morning was easy. Walked the dog, did laundry, other chores, played with my clay, listened to music, all until the driver picked me up at noon to go for my brain MRI. That ruined me. Not the MRI. The drive down. He took the roads in such a way that my body was literally shaken badly enough that by the time we got there, I could barely stand, and I didn't have my chair, only my cane. Just the manner in which he drove brought every symptom on and turned them to MAX.
As before in the dream, the person after me is someone I've loved all my life. Someone I still love now, someone in my family of origin. I'll use the pronoun he for the sake of writing but, I never want to disclose who it is for fear of hurting this beloved person.
He controls me. He makes sure I go nowhere without him. He has told everyone, everywhere we go that he plans to kill me in a very surprising and painful way. We went to a club type event and they all knew what he was planning and no one would help me or hide me or defend me. They all just left me to be terrified of what would come. I was trying to convince them that I'd done nothing wrong to him, I didn't deserve it, but he had their ear. I pleaded with everyone to help to no avail. I tried to hide and was found again and again. He laughed in my face at my figuring out I was in his grasp. He put me in a car and told me to leave knowing I didn't know where I was so, I'd inevitably end up returning to the spot He was in waiting for me. There was no escaping him and he enjoyed every second of it.
He represents my illness, according to my therapist. That rings true for me. When symptoms are at MAX like they were yesterday, it does control me. A better way to say it is that it limits me but, really limiting is controlling, one just sounds a bit lest negative than the other. It is always waiting for me, no matter where I go, it is with me, taunting, telling me there is no escaping it. Just when I am enjoying some freedom from it, like yesterday morning, it comes in and warns me of my painful imminent death at its hands. Reminds me that I am the prey and it is the predator and it will never stop until it succeeds. I understand that my illness is not known to be terminal or even degenerative. I do. I also understand that my quality of life in general now is far higher than when I first got sick 10 years ago. I try hard to mitigate what I live with and how I live. But, quite a lot of how I feel is outside of my control. For instance, the driver yesterday, unbeknownst to him, brought on every symptom I can have. From severe pain to migraine to fatigue to depression, All in one 20 minute ride. And after, I could hardly even stand up. I had to be helped to walk to the MRI appointment.
Further, this morning I had to get straight out of bed and into my wheelchair. Something I've not had to do for quite a few months. I'm angry. I'm frustrated. I'm sad.
I'm going to dress and eat and go to my pilates class at 9:30 when another driver will come to fetch me. Despite wanting very much not to leave the comfort of my home, I'm going. It has helped before, helped very much. So, I am just going to hope for the best and trust that Christ is with me. Frankly it couldn't be worse than yesterday's spectacle unless I lose consciousness.
This morning, I have gratitude for this computer and the fact that I can type these thoughts. You see, it isn't very hard at all for me to tell the story on the keyboard. But, if I tried to tell the story verbally, you'd hear a quite different description. My brain blocks so much of my vocabulary from my mouth that I end up sounding like I never went to school in my life, let alone college. But, somehow, I can make sense of my thoughts still, and am able to use this cathartic way to get them out of my head. So, today, if you can have an easy conversation with someone, be thankful for it. Some of us can't.
