When do the dreams end?

I’ve been divorced for 13 years now to my first love.  13 years and I still have dreams about him.  I have dated a couple of times, and one was very special to me.  He’s still my best friend.  Another passed away.  But I don’t dream about them at all.  I only dream about my ex.  The dreams are all so varied.  Some he hates me, some he wants me back, some he is with his now common law spouse, and some he is alone.  Our children are often in these dreams, and they are usually much younger.

I told this to my daughter recently.  She is staying with me for a short time, and we have interesting discussions.  She simply said “you must have loved him a lot”. I did.  I was devastated when it ended.  However, I have never been happier, so I don’t understand why he keeps creeping into my dreams!  It’s not like I would ever want to be back with him.  I suppose I would like to be “friends” as best we can due to our three children, but that would be it.  But maybe that would not be a good idea.  Maybe, deep in my subconscious mind, I still love him no matter what happened.  I don’t know.  I can’t feel anything on a conscious level other then the fact I am loving writing, and drawing, and taking courses, and graduating from my PRISM Life Design Course, and standing up for myself because I feel empowered now.  None of this likely would have come to be if I had stayed with him and continued to be made to be a minion. (I think minions are cute, but seriously… who wants to live like that… unless you are as rich as them… ha ha… creator was brilliant!)

I’m sure, through my courses, that I can deactivate these dreams… in the interim I will need to figure out how… 🙂  But here is to being happy, in spite of the dreams.

Love and Wonders of Psychotic Love with Food

I write here about spychotic love and the different levels of psychotic love.  One can be food too.  My mom was a great cook.  She also wanted to make sure we were respectful enough to finish everything on our plate when we were young.  She’s not like that anymore… much.  But an interesting thought.  I became bulimic.  I was for 30 years.  I was apparently, what I thought, spychotically in love with food.  But it turns out I really wasn’t.  I was in love with a person that left an emptiness.  They say that “part” that exists, such as my bulimia, is a part that is there to help you survive the other part. The part of emptiness. I suppose.  I’m not 100% sure.  I know one of my psychiatrists told me that it saved my life.  That it was a slow suicide, but not something that was quick that I could not overcome.  He then said I was like China doll.  Cold on the outside, but fragile.  That to me, made sense.  I guess he was right in saying I hid behind my bulimia.  And “it” was my friend.  “Have your cake and eat it too” kind of philosophy which I wrote a book about but back then, I think I was too close to it to write about it.  Today I don’t even know.. or I can say, I can’t understand why.  Why I became bulimic, other then my blogs.  They are the only remembory of my reasons for being one.

I tend to find some solace in knowing Jane Fonda, amongst many other actresses, “suffered” from this for many years.  But was it suffering?  Or was it a lack of someone out there just saying… You don’t need to do this to yourself.  You are just perfect with all your imperfections and I love you.  Learn that internally and you will be fine.  That’s what happened to me.  It even left that bulimia “part” of me sitting next to me while I went to bottom of the pit and was coming back again.  She was still there, but not in action.  In watching me as I healed from what she tried to save me from.  She’s still there, but not.  She’s a friend now, not a foe.  I have to thank my sister for that.  She hit a word.  And that word I can’t really remember, only know, next day, bulimia was there, next to me, but didn’t want to hurt me anymore, she wasn’t active.  I didn’t need to eat my anger, or pain and throw them up anymore.  I just became…. me. And realized emotions need to be dealt with.   And it isn’t so bad…  One psychotic love gone… turned into mindfulness.  Bulimia = food.  Now a new world.  And they get along. 🙂

Another Home Within A Home

So people tell me I’m too nice.  That’s all okay.  I would rather be that then too mean? Too self involved? Too untrusting? Too unloving?

Seriously? What is wrong with being too nice.  There are adjustments to make if you choose to remain so in a life that is not so nice, but really, what is wrong with being outside of the norm?  Last post I wast writing about home.  About coming home to blood, and the difference between healthy psychotic love and not so healthy.

I spoke to my daughter today who is one of my healthy psychotic loves, and she was describing atoms and quarks and fascinated by the fact that the further the something something is the closer they are, like an elastic.  She brought up the cellphones, but I said, they lose connection… so I was not in total understanding of the elasticity between atoms, and quarks, and such.  I could understand one thing though.  The elasticity of two people who love each other and when they are apart, the feeling becomes stronger.  A bit of psychotic love… depending on whether its a desire, or a want, or a need, or love period.  Is the distance when in love perceived as inticing? or is it pleasant because of the distance? or is there a true longing to be back together, like the elastic that my daughter was talking about? … I don’t think I had the elastic band feeling ever… with my ex husband.  Did a bit with my ex-boyfriend, but that was different psychotic love that will get to later after I’m over my ex husband story.

I liked him being away.  I liked him gone.  I felt free.  His long trips made me happy.  I did love him psychotically, but his presence made me feel diminished.  Small.  Ugly.  Nothing.  He never could really fulfill my need for just love. I didn’t want expectations.  I wanted a friend.  I never had that with him. YET, when he was away, he wrote me the most beautiful letters.  Back when we wrote letters.  And I missed his written word, that I never got the same emotional level in person.  I think I fell in love with the writer, but the person behind the writer was not the same.  We started our relationship in letters, ended it in words.  Maybe we should have written letters to each other more… 😉  All good though.  Glad to be with me today.

I don’t hate him.  Sad he kind of stole my beautiful youth in a way, but funny thing is I still feel young enough to enjoy what is left of my life.  This because I have built a beautiful world of family and friends around me that allow me to stay feeling young and happy and secure.  I also love myself more then ever.  Definitely not psychotically… LOL… but really in a good way.

I found home!

So being away for so long in some people’s minds, they asked me to come home.  I didn’t know quite where that was, but I figured my children were asking me to come back closer. So I did. It was a tough journey because I had found a place I called my home.  They were family even if not blood related. But truth be known, I didn’t have any money left nor wherewithal  to keep myself in check.

I left a beautiful group of people to move back to my blood family.  I will go more into this later… but suffice it to say, four years forward, I’m glad I did.  I’m glad my children and my one sister wanted me back and I’m so thankful they helped me find me again.

I still suffer from psychotic love in a way… mostly only now with my parents, children, and my two sisters and my animals, but to me it’s a healthier psychotic love. I can say however, I love my parents in true love, and healthy love. And my friend from when I was 11.  I can’t even tell you how beautiful and non psychotic love that is!

But love in any sense of spychotic that is healthy is healthy.  What I mean by that is the ones you feel you love too much but are good to you that his healthy.  The ones you love too much but reciprocate in mean words, or patronizing, or jealous, or derogatory, and yet keep loving them? that is negative psychotic love.

I will end this tonight with saying, after all this thinking…. there are two sides to psychotic love… the positive kind… the one that needs to be there for the ones you know need you, then the ones that suck it dry because they know they can do that to you. …  this is such a BIG topic.. more to come to describe the different levels of PL.

Finding Home

 

I wrote about the last post regarding not knowing where home is.  So with this song I moved and left all my family and ran a business.

I have to admit it was so exciting moving to what I THOUGHT was my new home.  I bought a business and was “moving away from” the pain, the hurt, and I WAS on my own and going to my “new home”.   I played this song on my journey to my new place.  I believed wholeheartedly that this was right for me.  I didn’t do it on a “whim”.  I had several people, including my parents, come by to see if I was making the right choice of buying an Auto Repair Shop in a small town 2.5 hours away from homebase, but only 1.5 hours away from parents’ cottage.

I distanced myself from pretty well everyone human though in close circle mind.  It was like coming home to a place where I belonged.  Small hobby farm, chickens, donkeys,  goats, dogs, cats, chinchilla.  I was in my glory, filling my life with animals, and business, to deter my thoughts of my children choosing to live with their father, my parents and sisters not understanding the whole disturbing reason for my leaving my ex, no support or understand.  It was alienation.  And I LOVED IT. Not alienation.. the getting away from it!!!!!

I had a hard go at the business side of it.  Three years later lost my business, but I have to say with a HUGE smile, I am so happy I did what I did even if I lost my retirement investment.  It was more then awesome.  I can’t say it was “home” but it was and it was mine and I loved the visits, however brief.  The ones that meant the most to me were my youngest son who chose to hang out with me for a couple of weeks in the summer, and my nephew and his wife who came by while Ross was trying to recover from cancer.

What is Psychotic Love??? ones you  have for your stupid ex… or the one you have for the ones you personally cannot help but love psychotically, like your parents, your children, just some people who walk into your life?

Psychotic Love to me, is your transference of UNCONDITIONAL love … and that’s not bad at all, but where it does become Psychotic Psychotic love… which might be our new term now, is when you love unconditionally, and they don’t back, or have expectations you can’t live up to, or  put you down… and you still love them!!… YIKES

My previous YIKES was that that can happen with so many peeps around you including your children~~ !!!

Okay, next post… to Daughtry’s song, because this one is already long enough… and kind of a therapeutic, realizing… this is psychotic… just thinking about the scope of all of this!!!

I’m Going Home

I felt alianeted when my last child left me to be with my ex husband.  I don’t blame her, but it was then time for me to find another home.  The problem is that I never really had a “home”… I moved so many times that I don’t know that I will ever find that “home”.   So this song means a lot to me.  My eldest son introduced it to me and after listening to it I will tell you my thoughts of what all still comes up. Next post will give the story of this song.

Meet My Gremlin!

Okay, so I am reading an amazing book called Taming Your Gremlin by Rick Carson. Amazing because it really opens up your mind to realizing the voices that have been built up in your head. Rick calls them Gremlins. I like that. I loved the movie. My favorite part of the movie thought was when the Gremlin was cute a fluffy. Then the ones that ate after midnight and turned ugly spooked me. I know. I was 22 when I saw it. How can a 15 year old be scared of the transformed Gremlins? I think this was because at that time of my life my real internal Gremlin was growing. The nasty one. The one I told not to eat after midnight. But did anyway and became a CCK and a Troll and my now life.

Troll little Napolean syndrome kind of gremlin

One of two gremlins in my life

I sketched these Gremlins. Some people have only one, but I have two. One is the one that reminds me of bigger issues in my life of failure which I have called as an acronym CCK. The other one is the one that causes me grief about the small things. He has a Napolean issue, and he’s called Troll. I am now simply observing them. I lie. I am learning to simply observe them. Some would think the CCK is more powerful, but the Troll is pretty bad because if the CCK is after my mind, the Troll kicks in to make me forget about the bigger things in life that matter to take of by veering my attention to the small stuff that you shouldn’t sweat to begin with.

I will continue on this subject later. I have meditation to do. 🙂 Thanks for reading…. more to come. Oh, and yes, these are my Gremlins. Feel free to share yours!!!!

Reading Taming Your Gremlin

So I was advised to read Taming Your Gremlin by Rick Carson. Now the beginning of the book they ask to name your Gremlin.  I have thought long and hard on this, even if the author continually says to observe and not try too hard.

It just keeps coming back to me, as I do observe, that this Gremlin looks a lot like my ex husband. This is the truth. I may have seen him as my mother, but no. This little creature has blue eyes like my ex and continually pretends to support me, but in his way, at my best moment, tells me I’m not good enough and not as powerful as he is. He is scary too because I don’t want to be him. However I think I realized that is my downfall. He wants to rule the world and is happy I am in no way wanting to do that. He constantly reminds me that I left a rich man and that now I am poor and downtrodden because of it.

What my Gremlin doesn’t get is that it’s not that I don’t want to achieve more, it’s that I want to take my time doing so this time around. But he keeps telling me I will never amount to anything. So I realized my Gremlin does have a name. It’s Keith.

Criss Cross Keith. My Gremlin can be that painfully destructive crossing over this way and that and frightening with his blue eyes and rule the world kind of way.

So.. Criss Cross Keith look out… I will be observing you… 😉

Last Time For Everything…

These are the things to remember when you feel down… no regrets.  The fun times will alway prevail. Last time for everything… including …. yes… last time… you get it!! 🙂  Love this video. Makes me smile.

Thoughts

Thoughts… they are wonderful. They make you ponder over so many feelings in life you have experienced. Psychotic love, in the case we are writing here, is one of incredible dimensions, of a building up to such a degree, that when it implodes (collapse or cause to collapse violently inward is the definition to this word 🙂 ) … it’s pathetically and painfully devastating. It actually takes years to heal. Oh so sad. But not really, because when it then EX-plodes, it gives you the realization that loving exists within. You just didn’t pick the right one! These comments are male/female friendly, because on this site we recognize that both sides can end up in one of these relationships.

I am a proud survivor of the psychotic love world. I lived it for 22 years, and it took 13 years to overcome it. Doing the math, this leaves me with, maybe, 20 more years of loving myself and enjoying the rest of my life free of that.

So BIG question that runs through my head. Do I want to love again? Can I trust myself to love again and not in a psychotic way?

That question is easy. No. The question is really “can I love again”. And then I know I can, but the bigger question is “can I find the right person who knows how to love me the same way I love myself, and me love that person back the same way”.

Do these questions torment me? Not at all. I have been on my own for 10 years. I have built trust in myself, to myself, and although I feel it is time to reach out and share my inner strength, I realize I’m not that strong when it comes to walking outside of myself.

The truth is, I’m afraid of love.