Hope Contagium

A therapy journal of self-obsession, depression and meaning.

Tag: dreams

The End

All this confusion. Why am I with this person? Better to be with someone than to be alone, I guess. We’re not even really together. And dreams don’t come true. Except maybe with Levin. Or maybe I just made them come true with him. I want to skip forward to a time where I’m not confused. Where I have a purpose. A person I love. Who loves me. A memory to keep forever. Strength built from one another. A family. Then I’ll stay there as long as possible. Maybe I’ll fast forward to yet another place in my life where I’m at rest and have a smile on my face. Will there be any place I would want to stay? ‘Cause finally, after experiencing those short happy moments… I can reach the end. Where no worries are found, no doubts, no unknowns. Just the moment where you let go.

No Escape

I dreamed that my friend took me to see a therapist. He wanted me to talk to someone about my pain. He wanted to get me help. When I asked why he did this, he started crying and saying he couldn’t bear helping me anymore. It was too tough on him.
What was worse, is, that the guy I’m dating was with us. He had to sit through the session and listen to all my secrets. He had to know what a mess I was and how I burdened others with my being.
Even in sleep, where you might think you’ll find peace, you can’t run away from yourself. I think my friend in the dream symbolized Levin. The fact that my date was there probably means that I’m scared of showing him what I’ve been through. Who I once was. I’m not even that depressed anymore and I don’t lean on Levin as much as I used to. But my dreams won’t let me forget my past and what I have done. The strange thing is that I felt closer to my date after this dream. I felt more secure. Which is silly, since none of it really happened…

All This Optimism

I’m gonna take another shot at this “happy moments” thing. Today I’m a bit more positive and I’ll try to focus on glorious moments or small victories. Like the time my little sis was crying because she felt stupid about erasing a game she had been playing with Mama. I was a master in comfort! First, I reminded her that everybody does stupid things and that those stupidities teach us lessons. Then I distracted her guilt and sadness by telling her a story about when felt really stupid. She stopped crying and it was easy-peasy over with! Oh, did I mention that my first step was to pick her up and give her a hug? What a good job. I’m gloating because I usually have an anxiety towards physical touch and a very hard time accepting my little sisters sadness – something I’ve always been ashamed of.
Another proud moment was when I picked up seven children, one by one, and lifted them over the fence so that they could get a good look at the passing by tractor. Even the fat kid got a couple of turns – and let’s face it: I don’t got a lot of muscle. I was so good with these kids. I took them on adventures in the playground, they learned from me and I always included everyone of them.
How about the time I took a five-year-old and her father home in the middle of the night? They were strangers and the father was inappropriately drunk and made disgusting sexual gestures towards me. But this little girl was sleeping on the cold floor of the central station and I couldn’t have it. I held little Nou-Nou in my arms all the way home so she could sleep comfortably, I gave them a bed to sleep in and food in the morning. Yes, I thought they were homeless when they weren’t, but nonetheless it was a beautiful gesture. Let’s not forget that it’s only thanks to Levin the gesture became a reality!
But hold on – when have I been happy and not just done good? When did I do good for myself?
Well, I like myself when I finish a book, then I feel I’ve done well. The time I worked in Urban Outfitters AND worked as a dresser at fashion week was pretty impressive (considering my depressive state).
So sitting here thinking, being positive, makes me realize:
“Okay, so good things do happen and quite a few of them.”
They’re just so darn invisible in all this darkness. Remember your dreams Marmaladescreams, your real dreams. They are beautiful. And all this optimism is thanks to my new contact person Zenia.

Happy Moments

I know that I don’t know myself. I heard many times that the depression is not you. But then who are you? Who am I? Screaming in tears from despair seems more right to me. Tragedy is reality. As if I feel more comfortable in misery. Nobody feels that way… It can’t be true? Maybe my sorrow is just so familiar that when I fall into it I feel a certain peace. It calms you to know that everything sucks and will end up bad instead of being uncertain and hopeful in your good state of mind. It’s hard for me to think back at happy moments in my life. Partially because I’m sad things haven’t lasted and partially because I can’t remember them. I’ve had good times – of course. But does anything stand out? Levin has brought me much joy. The other day I was crying from my longing for love and affection and I asked him:
“Are you tired of comforting me?”
“No. I’m tired of you feeling bad,” he answered washing away my guilt. Later I asked him to name one, just one, who loved me for who I am. He said, “Me.” Both answers perfect and exactly what I wanted to hear. What I needed to hear. These were not happy moment; they were beautiful and I will cherish Levin’s words.
The next thing that pops out while I browse through my thoughts is the time I worked with children. Playing, teaching, learning with those 0-3 year olds was absolutely amazing. I love children. They do fill me with joy. But then I remember that I probably won’t know my little brother in this age I love the most and I become melancholic.
Swinging. Role-playing. Diving into my imaginary land. Some music. Films. Naruto. Clothes. All things that make me happy. Sometimes happy memories make me happy – just not right now. I’m not sad or depressed, I guess I kind of feel nothing.
Oh! Babushka and Dedushka! They also make me feel happy – but sad. For a long time I’ve felt unpleasant in happiness. I know it will end again (the happiness) so it feels fake or deceiving. Actually I kind of hate being happy – even if it’s just a little happy. But then again, are these my feelings or my depression’s? I don’t think I know who I am or how to find me.
I dreamed about being completely full of happiness because I was in my favorite town, in my favorite country. As far as I know this place doesn’t exist, but even though I was all alone I was truly joyful. Then my dream changed or I woke up. Looking back at it, the feeling and the place in my dream seem scary. As if something was not right in my brain… So I guess not even my dreams can trick me into feeling happy. Even if it felt so real for a moment.

10:30, 19. Febraury 2012

I dreamt that a man loved me. Just like in the fairy tales… Through raging war and chaos, he loved me.

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