Take your broken heart and turn it into art.

That's a Meryl Streep quote, maybe one of the best actresses who has ever perfected her craft.

I've been living in a strange dream lately. For the better part of the last three years, doctors had me convinced I was dying. I'm totally not. My psychic pretty much said I'm living forever and Jay was just like, yah I knew that. The thing about being sick is if you believe it, you are. It's when you stop believing that everything becomes okay. I know some people don't have that option, but for me I think I was dying from a broken heart and bad choices I made because of that. So I had the power to make that go away. It's like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz she always had the power she just need to learn it for herself.

I was walking to work the other day and the Jdubs had one of their stupid book booths up near my store. I usually ignore them but I had to stop. The effing Watchtower is like 4 pages now. I picked one up because I couldn't believe it. So of course they start talking to me. I put it back and said "You guys really cheaped out on the Watchtower". Before they could respond I said, I'm an apostate so you really shouldn't talk to me but I hope you have a nice day.

Then I went to work and didn't even think about them. It's not love, it's not hate. It's just indifference. That's when I knew I was over it. It took me ten years but I'm a Pisces. I had to be sad, I had to be angry. I couldn't forgive myself so I hurt myself.

I'm lucky. I have amazing people who never gave up on me. I had one day off this week and I spent it with great friends and my dog. I get to come home every night to the best guy I've ever met. I want everyone who struggles to know it does get better.

So we're lying on a blanket in the park and Max is wandering around meeting everyone and we're brainstorming ideas for my book title. We all know there's a lot of dark. Thus, the blackbirds. I tell my friend "Blackbird" is already taken. He's like, okay let's find something else. I said I had a friend who was a poet and he wrote me this beautiful poem about how the blackbird turns into a white dove. I want the book to be real, sad, happy, funny, horrific at times. Just real. I said, what about "Blackbird, White Love". Cause despite all my flaws y'all know I'm all love motherfuckers.

He was like it's perfect. And it's not everyday you get perfect, but when it happens it's awesome.

DON'T STEAL MY BOOK TITLE.

Sullivan out.

In Repair

I was pretty happy coming home from work today. Monday and Tuesday - always rough. I write a lot of to-do lists and by Wednesday afternoon I've finally crossed a lot of things off and it all starts to seem more achievable and then I begin to calm down.

I wish I could just convince my brain that by Wednesday afternoon it would all feel better. My subconscious seems to hate me though. I'm not sure if you can relate but for all the positive reinforcement, the meditation, the trying to think happy thoughts, I can't control what happens a third of the day, when I'm sleeping. 

All I do lately is have dream after dream so it feels like, in some ways, I'm working 24/7. Not at "work work" but just work in general. When I'm sleeping it's real life stuff, usually past life stuff. People I haven't thought about in ages just barge right in and sit down in my living room and refuse to leave. Apparently I've started talking in my sleep. My roomate tried to wake me up the other night and I just yelled at him to get away from me. But I was still dreaming and the person I was yelling at wasn't him at all. 

My therapist (yes here we go again) has been lovely. He's treating me for free and I can't really figure out why, except maybe I'm a fascinating case study. I asked him last week if he thought all this effort and time that both of us have been putting into our time together was worth it. Not to mention the lost work time for both of us. 

Me: Can you fix me?

Him: (sighs) No. 

He went on to explain that he can help, no doubt. And if I keep working hard like I have been, it will continue to improve. But it can't be fixed. Too much trauma to completely recover from. 

I asked a friend of mine the other day who has been through a lot if he ever has rage nightmares against the people who hurt him. I think I've worked hard to get past any anger and resentment about the past. But when I sleep, it comes out. It's buried somewhere in there. He said no, not any more. Now he just dreams about the happy times. 

I honestly don't think I would pick that over this. The dreams are so real, so vivid. I see their faces and hear their voices as if they were right here in front of me now. If I woke up thinking I was back there in the happy times, I might be too sad to get out of bed. 

So for now, I'm in repair. I'll take the panic attacks, the insomnia, the talking in my sleep. And be grateful that when I do wake up, the family, friends and support I have pretend not to notice the circles under my eyes, the fidgeting, all the nervous habits I've picked up. If I have to be in repair mode, I do have the best support system I could wish for. 

I know worrying is a exercise in futility. That's why I try not to do it. I hope someday my subconscious catches up and tries to be as happy as I do. :)