Quote:
Originally Posted by SageTree
What do YOU think the dream meant?
How many times have you had similiar feelings?
Did your friendship go sour with her?
I know you are struggling with not smoking as well, atleast you were, does that weigh on you at all? I remember you saying you pretty much HAVE to quit to live. That has to be hard to consider.
What was the main 'issue' for you in theropy?
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My friend sage: I was hoping you'd come and ask the hard questions.
I think that the dream (as much as I hate to admit) "means" or maybe more liek "hints at" the fact that I have unresolved feelings. In so far as how to resolve these feelings, I dunno. I also came to the odd conclusion today that this was some form of lucid dream, as though I had willed her to appear at the bar, in my dream. I don't know why/how that occured to me (been sober for a day or two now)..
How many times do I have similar feelings for her or similar feelings for anyone at all? I'll base my answer off of the former rather than the latter (that being the first, not the second, if my memory serves me correctly). I get "pangs" (like hunger pangs) for her every so often. Sometimes I'll see a girl who looks similar on tv, or in real life, and it's like her face is superimposed upon theirs- in my minds eye at least. Other times I'll find myself repeating something that she's said in my mind. It's not often, but often enough: maybe once a week or so (in the 7 months since we've been apart).
I wouldn't say the friendship went sour, not that I'm aware of anyhow. The last contact I had with her was going out for coffee (something I'd never done with anyone before her) and just talking. She had offered to erm.. beat the shit out of a girl who had broken up with me recently (and beat the shit out of anyone she could, she's some kind of crazy martial artist. she used to toss me around all the time when we were drunk, it was funny because she's a purdy little girl and I'm a big lank.)
Yes to the smoking thing, it weighs on me I guess. In the sense that I'm aware of the fact that I am "ending myself" prematurely. But to be frank I'm fine with that. Honestly the luck that I've had, ever since I've been cognizant of my luck anyways, has been pretty shitty. My life seems to be set on repeat: something wicked happens, life is awesome for about a week, the something wicked is either taken away or in some way damaged or tarnished and then I'm moody and depressed for x amount of days/weeks/months/years.
I will answer the question about therapy with as little detail as possible, because this post is long enough already.
Essentially, I was raised for the first 3 years of my life by my bio mother, who has been an alcoholic I gather for most of her adult life (lucky I didn't "get" fetal alcohol syndrome but hey). To give you insight into the type of person she is: she didn't quit drinking or smoking while she was pregnant. (my parents weren't ever together)
Yadda yadda, my dad goes on an experimental treatment for some health bullshit, the treatment causes him to compulsively gamble my post secondary education money, all his property and all his life savings away. In addition his partner, my step mom, decides that that gives her carte-blanche to do exactly the same. It is at this time that my father begrudgingly gives me back to my mom. I think he knew even back then that this was bad, but...
Yadda yadda, My step mom and pops split up, it was a messy divorce. It's around this time that I really start acting out in highschool, going to school on various illegal perscription pills acid xtc etc whatever just to forget about how fucked up everything is.
Yadda yadda, fast foreward a year or two and my mother and her boyfriend can barely handle me (I was such an awful child; I sat in my room all day getting high, and taking food when nobody was looking because I was made to feel that the groceries were not bought for me.... .... ...). So my moms boyfriend takes it upon himself to rectify the situation with his fists and verbal abuse, and my mother finds it rather appropriate to sit off to the side, witnessing everything, and saying nothing other than the same old "I'm the victim here, why do i need to live with this fighting" shit. never mind standing up for her only flesh and blood.
So basically I moved the fuck out and life has been marginally better since. Been 3 years now but. Life is fucked up.
sorry for the length of the post, here's a kitty on astroturf:
