There are days when I hate the way the human mind works. Today is a perfect example of this. I woke up in a funk for no current reason. In fact, quite the opposite. Life is going really well right now. A few minor annoyances here and there, but over all really good. I’ve been getting enough sleep, my cleanse thing is going well and I feel physically better than I have in quite a while, we finally got a new mattress so my back/hip problems have greatly decreased, school is going well, the Little is going well, Hubs and I are doing well… I mean really. Life is good, yet my subconscious is still forever stuck in the past.
My dreams have started acting up again, and it isn’t due to any outside circumstances, it just happens to be late February. What’s the significance of late February? Well, I’ve already written about it and put the events to rest. Or at least I’ve put them in prospective out of my conscious mind. It’s just my subconscious giving me grief. They’re buried somewhere in my archives for those who are curious. I’m not going to rehash them yet again. It serves no purpose to continue to dwell on them, and yet I can’t escape them.
This is the absolute most frustrating thing about trying to recover from any sort of trauma. Stupid little things happen that are completely out of your control which launch your thought processes down the tunnel of memories that need to stay buried. The weather, an mention of snow ice cream, buying a new mattress, watching a funny movie… all of these things that my mind hits and ricochets off into a completely different tangent. Not only does it ricochet off into oblivion, oh no it flies off headed in one direction until sleep. Upon sleeping, instead of ricochet there is a boomerang effect. My mind could be going in a completely healthy direction, yet some sort of subconscious possibly chemical pull, grabs it and dragged it back to the original event or thought it repelled away from, again, again, and again. Until it physically hurts to think about it anymore, my migraines flare up, or my emotions shift into an identity crisis.
Which in stressful times makes sense, it’s basically just an extended flashback. In happy times? That doesn’t make sense. Part of it is the self sabotage that so often accompanies Borderline, and I’m aware of that much. But the other side of the coin comes with extreme dissociation which also isn’t healthy. It’s like I’m constantly walking a tight rope, trying desperately to keep my mind from doing two dangerously unhealthy things. I can’t dwell because it’s harmful to myself and my relationships both with my husband and my daughter, but I can’t completely dissociate for the same reason. If I get too detached from everything that reminds me of events in my past I cut everyone off emotionally.
There simply is no happy medium, no one way that’s better than the next. No way to stop the incessant ricochets, and boomerangs. Which leaves me a little melancholy, but not defeated. The moments will pass, February will come and go just as it always does, and I’ll continue on despite it.