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Apr. 15th, 2011 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelHad a dream last night that somehow involved me pretending to be more out-of-it than I actually was. The bit I remember was walking up to a bed and just kind of timberrrring down, crosswise, without undressing or taking anything off the bed or whatever, and lying there face-down without reacting, like I was zoned out or ... idk I can't really describe it.
I seem to have a lot of dreams lately that involve me pretending to be either a) asleep, when I'm not, or b) seriously brain-fried [I think the latest one of those involved a sort of magic spell that could plausibly have short-circuited bits of my brain] or otherwise mentally mostly-nonfunctional. It's not just being incapable; it's deliberately acting incapable when I know full well that I'm not.
I can't decide whether they're symbolic of my life, or a weird backwards application of imposter syndrome.
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I am feeling very out of sorts right now. Last night I hit a brick wall in terms of spoons / cope level, to the point that I was pretty much yelling† at my PA, who was just as tired as I was and who tries my patience even on the best of days (she wants to be helpful, she just needs so much micromanaging and her personality has annoying parts and I am not good at managing people), and it was all bad, and then I couldn't sleep, and then I couldn't wake up very easily, and I haven't done anything all day and I feel exhausted.
(† - I don't really yell per se all that much, but it was frustrated-stressed-out-voice, impatient voice, crankypants voice. which I try not to let out very often but sometimes I just don't have enough spoons to keep it reined in.)
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Also, the inevitable happened yesterday, in that while backing out of the bathroom (which is the easiest way to get out) I sort of ran into Suri (who tends not to want to move when she's comfortable). I'm fairly sure it was into and not over, because she yowled and ran away but didn't, and still doesn't, seem injured, but it was still a bit traumatic for both of us.
(Yes, she has forgiven me, I think, especially when I'm safely immobile in bed, but she is now super-skittish about being near me when I'm in the chair, which makes me sadface. I mean, a bit of caution is a good thing, and she was being way too unaware of the possible dangers, but rabbiting away when I'm still like three or four feet off is a bit depressing. I didn't want her to make a wheelchairs=scarybad association.)
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Moods like this are ones where I tend to give in to listening to the drastic pessimistic voice in my head. The one that says "You'll never knit anywhere close to all of what you have stashed so you should keep maybe three or four things and give the rest away." The one that says "You'll never figure out a way to do cross-stitch so you might as well get rid of that stuff too." The one that says "And the beading supplies." The one that says "You can't succeed so why bother trying." The one that says "Don't sign up, you'll never do it" and then "See, I told you you wouldn't be able to come close to your goal, you shouldn't have signed up".
The one that says "You are a failure and a worthless fat drain on society and you'll never amount to anything."
And I tell myself that this voice is wrong, that it's way overemphasizing the negative and imposing a black-and-white binary of perfection, whatever. And I don't give into what it says, which would involve me getting rid of most of my knitting, most of my books, all of my cross-stitch, deleting all my blogs, and limiting myself to eating two pieces of toast a day and playing solitaire or something.
I tell myself that, but it's really fucking hard not to agree with it, at least when I don't have the energy to swim rather than drown.
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I seem to have a lot of dreams lately that involve me pretending to be either a) asleep, when I'm not, or b) seriously brain-fried [I think the latest one of those involved a sort of magic spell that could plausibly have short-circuited bits of my brain] or otherwise mentally mostly-nonfunctional. It's not just being incapable; it's deliberately acting incapable when I know full well that I'm not.
I can't decide whether they're symbolic of my life, or a weird backwards application of imposter syndrome.
#
I am feeling very out of sorts right now. Last night I hit a brick wall in terms of spoons / cope level, to the point that I was pretty much yelling† at my PA, who was just as tired as I was and who tries my patience even on the best of days (she wants to be helpful, she just needs so much micromanaging and her personality has annoying parts and I am not good at managing people), and it was all bad, and then I couldn't sleep, and then I couldn't wake up very easily, and I haven't done anything all day and I feel exhausted.
(† - I don't really yell per se all that much, but it was frustrated-stressed-out-voice, impatient voice, crankypants voice. which I try not to let out very often but sometimes I just don't have enough spoons to keep it reined in.)
#
Also, the inevitable happened yesterday, in that while backing out of the bathroom (which is the easiest way to get out) I sort of ran into Suri (who tends not to want to move when she's comfortable). I'm fairly sure it was into and not over, because she yowled and ran away but didn't, and still doesn't, seem injured, but it was still a bit traumatic for both of us.
(Yes, she has forgiven me, I think, especially when I'm safely immobile in bed, but she is now super-skittish about being near me when I'm in the chair, which makes me sadface. I mean, a bit of caution is a good thing, and she was being way too unaware of the possible dangers, but rabbiting away when I'm still like three or four feet off is a bit depressing. I didn't want her to make a wheelchairs=scarybad association.)
#
Moods like this are ones where I tend to give in to listening to the drastic pessimistic voice in my head. The one that says "You'll never knit anywhere close to all of what you have stashed so you should keep maybe three or four things and give the rest away." The one that says "You'll never figure out a way to do cross-stitch so you might as well get rid of that stuff too." The one that says "And the beading supplies." The one that says "You can't succeed so why bother trying." The one that says "Don't sign up, you'll never do it" and then "See, I told you you wouldn't be able to come close to your goal, you shouldn't have signed up".
The one that says "You are a failure and a worthless fat drain on society and you'll never amount to anything."
And I tell myself that this voice is wrong, that it's way overemphasizing the negative and imposing a black-and-white binary of perfection, whatever. And I don't give into what it says, which would involve me getting rid of most of my knitting, most of my books, all of my cross-stitch, deleting all my blogs, and limiting myself to eating two pieces of toast a day and playing solitaire or something.
I tell myself that, but it's really fucking hard not to agree with it, at least when I don't have the energy to swim rather than drown.
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