Dreams of Hidden Rooms

As some of my longtime readers know, one of my more subtle special interests is dream interpretation. It's really not too far a jump from their to one of my bigger interests, psychology. I don't do the reading for omens type of, but more along the lines of deeper understanding of what my dreams represent about what I am feeling behind the scenes, so to speak.

Last night I had a dream that I lived in a house that was a mish mash of houses that I have lived in, and others I haven't.  I had to go up to the attic for some reason, and that is when I discovered that there were several homeless people living up there. I was shocked. There was only one small room, and some old dilapidated furniture.  It was sparsely furnished, and cold.  At one point, I decided to sit down, and try to talk to some of the people living there. I attempted to sit on a loveseat, but there were holes in it, and the springs were sticking out. One of the people told me it was due to a rat infestation, but that they had recently gone. I was still a little afraid to sit anywhere, because I was afraid that a rat would come out, and bite me. I began to get acquainted with some of the people living there. There were two ladies, a little boy, and a coupe older women. I was heartbroken about the little boy, but the others insisted that he was better there than at home. I wanted him to come with me, but he was not ready. In fact, none of them were ready. I kept coming, and going as I tried to decide how to handle the situation. It was one that most others wouldn't understand, and I knew I had to find my own way to deal with it. Most people wanted me to just toss them all out by force, but I knew I couldn't. I knew they'd all come out of there in their own time, and I would be able to gently persuade them to come down safely. I began visiting them, and getting to know all the people that lived there. I was able to get a couple of them talked down, and to dinner.

One time while I was up there as I was cleaning, and exploring I noticed some sort of passageway, or something. Somehow, I went from being in the attic to this hallway that seemed long, and mysterious. As I crept down a black, and white checkered hall I came upon a room, and went inside. It was what looked to be a living room lavishly decorated with furnishings from another time. Bucket type of leather seats, and shag carpet. A console TV glowed from a corner of this dim lit room. I felt suddenly like I was intruding on another time. Kind of like it was haunted, and I was an unwelcome guest.

Feeling Sunny Again #autism #depression

I thought that I might do a little update about how things are going since some of my recent posts about Beans' struggles ( HERE and HERE) things have improved, as well as other issues I've spoken about here, and on my FB page.

I am happy to report that with a med change Beans is doing very well. He is sleeping through the night, and not agitated all day like he was. It was a scary transition from okay to not okay, and back to okay again. I know that at times this is part of what living with autism is like. I wish that there was more support, and resources for when these times happen for us, and families like us, but I feel incredibly lucky to be back to a peaceful calm period.

I also am happy to tell you all that my recent trial of antidepressants has been wildly successful. I really regret waiting as long as I did to try it. I feel so much better, and am able to enjoy life again. It's like night, and day, and it's not even been a whole entire month since I started them. I think Spring coming around the corner is also helpful, but even on our recent gloomy snow days I have been in a good mood.

I don't think I mentioned it much on my page, but Bubby had also been struggling with a lot of tears, and oversensitivity the last few months.

Finding Purpose in Being Still

Sometimes there is this feeling that hits me between the eyes. It's one that is hard to describe. It's not quite jealousy, or depression, or well.... anything I can label easily. If you can't tell this is going  to be another one of those entries that kind of end up falling from my fingers as quickly as the thoughts pop into my head with little direction as I explore what it is that I am feeling. One of the ways I discover myself best is through freestyle writing.

This feeling surfaces when I see others doing things that I think are admirable. Things that contribute to the greater good of society, or at least seem to have a lasting effect on the world. It causes me to think about what I contribute to the world, and as I often do when thinking of myself I always feel like I come up short. I begin to question where I am in my life, and where I am headed.

Sometimes, I am perfectly content with taking care of my family, and tending to their needs. Other times I feel like I am shut off from the world, and stagnating. I question if being a stay at home mom, and caregiver is what I want. If it's what is best. If it is contributing to the world in a meaningful way.

These feelings come with a sense of disconnect from society. Not in a lonely type of way so much as a cut off, and isolated type of way. Like I am not part of anything bigger than my own little world.

Emetophobia- When You Fear Vomiting

Here at our house we are recovering from a particularly bad stomach virus. It's been circling around hitting every family member, and even coming back to visit me twice.I know that's not typically how viruses operate, but somehow this one seemed to, which was particularly horrifying for me. You see I have this fear of vomiting called.emetophobia.

So, what is emetophobia, and what is it like to live with it?

I can only speak for myself, and from what I have read, and learned from others that I know who also have it. Truth is, I have done only a small amount of research about it. I would never join a group online, or anything to that effect, because just reading about it all the time would raise my anxiety. I don't even like to think about throwing up. Just being reminded of it is a trigger for me to start to become anxious, and worried.

There is a lot of names for the act of vomiting. All of them raise my anxiety, except for the term 'throw up'.I can handle calling it vomit, but I don't like it. I know that doesn't make much sense, but I form strong associations with words, so it does to me. I will be referring to the physical act of getting sick as throwing up through this entry. I apologize if you have emetophobia, and that term upsets you.

From what I gather there are a lot of different types of emetophobias. A person might have an intense fear of throwing up, or someone seeing them throw up. They might also, or only fear seeing others throw up. Like any other panic type disorder there are also different levels of severity. I consider mine at this time to be mild to moderate. This phobia can be so severe that a person won't leave their house for fear of contracting a virus that might make them sick, or due to feeling like being away from home might make them too vulnerable to getting sick in public.

Though there are different levels of severity with emetophobia one thing that I know is that it doesn't include just disliking getting sick. No one likes to throw up. Some mind it more than others, but most everyone avoids it if at all possible. Emetophobia is about much more than that. It is an intense fear that that manifests itself in a person's life in such a way that it limits them from their daily activities. It must limit your ability to function in some way whether that be attending social events, employment, or completing everyday tasks.

How might that look to someone who has emetophobia?

Miss Despondent Gets a New Attitude

When I penned the last entry I noticed something that I definitely would not have if I had not been blogging. I was talking about how depression had shaped my current thinking, and whatnot, and I relayed it to a past post about depression, Kinda hard for regular readers to recall what recent entry has not been about depression, right? Anyway, I went to link it up, and noticed something as I was copying the link location. That entry was from a couple months ago. Then, I decided to look at the list of all of my blog entries, and realized that the first one that I begin to discuss this current bout of depression was in October. October?! I did a quick count on my fingers. That was four months ago! Has it been that long? Surely I have not been in this state for four months. I couldn't have been. Wouldn't I have known?

I had no way around the facts that were laying out there in black, and white. I have been slipping into a very serious depression, and I was not fully aware of it.

I thought, how could this be? My only answers were that it was comparable to a frog in a pot of water that is slowly heated until he's done. I didn't notice it, because it was a gradual decline into discomfort. Every now, and then the water might cool off, and then I'd notice it when the temperature sharply rose again, but for the most part it was a game of complacency. I would know I was down, but I got so used to feeling that way that it became my new norm, so when the depression pulled me even deeper the slight change was only a tinge of noticeable difference in mood.

At first I thought that I really shouldn't write yet another blog entry about depression. Won't my readers get tired of reading about my woes? Maybe. I don't really know. What I do know is that I write what I feel, and right now my truth is this horrid black cloud hanging over my head. I'd never bring it up in real time conversation, and you'd never know I was so far down if you were talking to me. The thing is, on my bad days no one talks to me, because I make sure they don't. I cancel appointments, and don't answer the phone. I sleep a lot, and watch tv. (Two things I don't do much of.)  It's not like it's something I really want to bring up in everyday conversation.

If this were one of my bad days I wouldn't be writing this entry at all. I'd not have the thought process to do so, nor would I feel that I had anything of value to share with anyone anyway. I simply wouldn't bother. If I did it would be full of dark humor, and swear words. You might think if someone is depressed they lose their humor. That's when some of us get ours really warmed up. The more down I get the more twisted, and sailor-ish my thoughts get. Think Lewis Black, or Anthony Jesselnick. Not only are my thoughts crude, and dark, but that little part of my brain that says "No. Don't say that." isn't there. It goes away leaving me no filter, at all. I simply don't care enough to care. I don't even consider if I sound offensive to anyone. That would require too much thinking, and anxiety. Did I mention my anxiety goes almost all the way away when I am feeling really down? Yes. I no longer care about my weight, or if I might be late, or if I'm upsetting people. I really have zero f*cks to give about pretty much anything related to myself.

It's not that I feel rock bottom low all the time anymore. I have days where it isn't so bad. Most days are a big mixed bag, though. Mornings have been by far the worst. This is new to me. I have had other depressions before, and all of them caused my mood to dip in the evenings. All my energy was spent by then, and I would fall into sadness. This time, however, my mood fares much, much worse earlier in the day rather than later. Most days I am hit with a wall of sadness, and despair as soon as I open my eyes. Literally, the first moment of consciousness is one that reminds me I am still here, and I am still feeling the same. It's almost as if I'm disappointed that I even woke up most days. By late afternoon my mood has usually improved to a very solid coping stage. I am able to get moving, and get stuff done.

Except I don't get it all done.