Good morning and welcome to this small corner of the world: important news first. The unicorn meat eating cats are excited about the warming temperatures and the daffodils are up. My fingers itch to plant something, but I know it won't be until next month...the ground needs to warm a bit. But I can see the colors and the green mist that floats above the trees.
I had a dream the other night about how Jean Luc Picard helped Harry Potter overcome Lord Voldemort. We all celebrated with shots in an airport. If you are new here, I am in recovery. What is bothersome about a drinking dream...almost all alcoholics in recovery have them, is this: it is just like drinking. I have gotten drunk in some of my dreams. I have chosen and not chosen to drink in the dreams. Sometimes I 'wake up', in the dream itself, to find a beer in my hand, having just taken a sip. At other times, I decide to take a shot, neat.
Now, they used to be so real that I woke and looked around to see if I really had been drinking. Were there cans or a bottle on my bedside table? I would search the house, convinced I had drank. Now, when I have drinking dreams, I know when I wake that I have not been drinking. In my dream, I know that I dream.
I don't know what that portends, to know I dream, and choose to drink, anyway. I have been viewing it as a dire warning, meriting discussion with my therapist and my sponsor. I don't know of anyone else who drinks subconsciously, but maybe you know. Any ideas?
Drinking dreams seem to be standard fare for all alcoholics in recovery. It has nothing to do with my psychiatric diagnoses, I don't think. Speaking of, that seems to have leveled out a bit. I am happily enjoying the effects of less paranoia, and less happily, the ensuing weight gain. Be happy, and easier to live with, and be fat, and have problems with my sex life? And by "easier to live with", I mean to have friends. There is nothing like a blast of paranoia radiating out of my apartment to scare friends and foes alike. It is agony, and I have begged, almost on my knees, for my psychiatrist to end the ordeal.
With this new-to-me medication, it controls the symptoms, but doesn't eliminate them. I have much smaller attacks of paranoia, and less of an idea that the world is out to get me. I suffered one recently, and it is listed on my posts as "Storm on the North Sea." That is a small attack, calling the police and checking reality with a friend...that is all beside the racing thoughts, and the desperation; to not even know I am insane, having insane ideas...it all seems routine.
Then there is this relief, this pill that stops some of it, but adds some serious problems. It doesn't stop my sex drive, but stops me from relieving it...and the horrible and instant weight gain.
Now I will be frank: I have been having problems with eating since last November. I will actually wake myself eating...how is that for a dream state? And I have been trying to surrender to the power of food. There is one Overeater's Anonymous in this small corner of the world, and I may have to search them out. Add that to the sprained ankle in October, and I have a recipe for disaster.
But, today is new. Actually it's newer than I would like; it's an outrageous hour to wake up, and the dog objects mightily. There is no more sweets to eat in the apartment, I took care of that last night, and I am not planning to get any more. Like everything else, I will have to take it one small step at a time. Hand over my love of sweets to my Higher Power, and concentrate on being the best me I can, today.
I will close with an update. Ratty has gone insane with Spring fever and just finished serenading me, very loudly, with his desires to go outside. Usually I ignore him at this hour, but just couldn't handle his song anymore and let him out. Georgia has her paw on the keyboard, and I am trying to keep her from writing for me. And Minkin has settled into his pet bed. The dog is waiting for me to turn out the light again, which will be later on this morning, as I settle back into this bad sleeping pattern. "9+-*" That's a quote directly from Georgia to let you know how she feels. And I agree wholeheartedly.
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