Dreams

Dreams.

There once was a classroom full of dreams. Timmy wanted to be a police officer. Susan wanted to be a Veterinarian. Dominique wanted to be a singer. Tina wanted to be a nurse.

But what if in that classroom full of dreams, the teacher said no?

"oh Dominique, you can't be a singer because you have a lisp. How about a fire fighter instead? Or an army man! And Tina! Surely you do not want to be a nurse, you became squeamish at Timmy's bloody knee today on the playground!"

Most parents, when finding out that a teacher had told their child they could not be anything they wanted to be when growing up, would be infuriated. But you know, sometimes that teacher is right.

All our dreams can't come true. There just simply isn't enough time in the world, and that realization has been pounding at me for quite some time now.

My main dreams that seem to contradict themselves are being a mother, and being a psychologist. You see, more than likely I would want to stay home for a good 2 years of my child's life to raise them. At 3 they would be able to go to preschool. But then, at such an age difference I would more than likely wish to have another. And I have always wanted to have more than 2 children. We'll say three, all of which have 2 years apart. That is six years of stay at home mommying.

I will be approximately 23 when I receive my BA in Psychology, and then 6 Semesters of a Masters Program which means 2-3 more years of college. Which personally I would imagine it being 3. To finish off the schooling part I need a 1 to 2 year internship to be able to get my license within the state of GA to practice Clinical Psychology. At that point I am 28 years of age (if things go according to this time schedule).

Am I suppose to start my career after all that school or start my stay at home mommying? See, I have a very high chance of medically needing a hysterectomy by the age of 35-36. Maybe later if that part of my genetics was blessed. However they were not. I have PCOS which means that with each year it becomes harder and harder for me to be able to conceive.

So what am I suppose to do? I know I can technically be a career woman and a mother at the same time, but I will not have anywhere near the tenure to be able to be a part time clinican in a private practice. Not in that time frame.

Then there is the whole once the kids are in school you can go back to work. And maybe that could be so. But at 35 am I going to want to start a career?

I guess my main thing is that I have this voice in the back of my head that tells me I am going to school for absolutely no reason—that I am wasting my time. I could be working a 40 hour/week job as a secretary, be able to do things locally like plays with the ‘Dosta Playhouse, work on my artwork more, and be lining a good nest egg for the kids.

See, I found out the other day that I like doing the house wife thing. And THAT flipped me around even more because I always imagined I would hate it. But no, I enjoyed it immensely. I cooked 3 meals that day, cleaned up around the house and just had a great time.

The fun part is that I am very positive any of you reading this blog will tell me to stay in school—that finishing college is always the answer. I frickin’ hate school you guys. God, Do I hate it. I am still immensely intrigued by psychology. I still want to practice it. But I want to be a mother too. BAH! I do not know what to do.

Theorizing about Blogs

Blogs are quite interesting things. Web logs. Blogs. These are written not just for the author to vent or to have an artistic outlet, but in beliefs that someone is reading. According to feedforall.com's glossary Blogs are defined as:

Blog is short for weblog. A weblog is a journal that is frequently updated and intended for general public consumption. http://www.feedforall.com/rss-glossary.htm

So I posted a link on my signature at http://www.teddekker.com for people who frequent the message boards to be able to read this. I posted a link on Myspace. I did not post a link on facebook, because the note process is annoying to get to, and changing my status would result in the focus being take away from the recent passing of my great grandmother. So I am writing a blog that I know only 1 person has read the last entry. I doubt anyone else read it. I guess I am safe to vent here then? Weird. I want someone to read this... I really do. But then again, I know myself all too well. If there were 5 or more followers that I knew pretty well I would never write this down:


Last night was painful. Horribly painful. Of the actual night I slept probably an hour at the most. I kept writhing in pain. It took until nearly 4:00 A.M. for me to decide to rummage through the medicine cabinet for anything resembling a pain medication. Found some from when I had a massive UTI. It did not work nearly fast enough. I originally laid down beside my husband, and when we were going to kiss goodnight we both understood we were going to try and be a bit romantic. It was date night after all. There would not be any love making. I was in too much pain. We were simply going to share kisses, and then drift off to sleep. It is rare that we make out or romantically kiss anymore. Simple pecks on the lips, cheeks, or forehead are our general consumption of kisses. He says they are too "wet". Matthew hates being wet. Last night he exclaimed "ACK! Germs!" I am not quite sure why...my pain isn't from anything someone can contract. Right before he did, I was trying to kiss him in a way that we used to love to kiss while dating. It isn't a French kiss, or anything of that nature really. It is simply locking our lips together, mouths slightly open, and sharing one another's breath.

See, you can only do this for so long, because we are both exhaling carbon dioxide. It is similar to the paper-bag-effect of someone who is hyperventilating. Carbon Dioxide calms down the brain, eventually slowing your breathing. Your body's own sedative in a way. Kissing like this is extremely intimate (at least for me). You have to pull away when necessary and both of you will become thoroughly light headed. Very similar to a high I would imagine. I wanted to be romantic, and I wanted that feeling to repress some of the pain.

When he pulled away, tears started to well up. I am a silent crier most of the time especially since it rarely lasts more than a few moments. Being my Matthew, he knew I was upset though I doubt he knew to the extent. He said simply "I am going to work on those things that upset you". God I wish he'd be more specific. "Babe, I really would like to get past this. Let myself go, and be able to love you with total abandon". We actually talked about that. He said he'll try eventually. But back to the crying:

I cried a lot last night. Not because of the pain, the pains was wracking, but not tear jerking; still severe, but just a different type of pain. I cried a lot last night. Riley, our pup, soon started whining after the kissing episode, so I went to play with her. We had seen 2 movies for date night, and were out longer than usual. So she did need some time to burn energy. She barked! She barked twice last night. I was so happy. When she had calmed, I put her in her little bed, and went to lay beside my husband. He told me as I was situating "thank you for caring about me"...when the conversation was slightly over I told him that Riley had barked at our kitten.

His retort, though I did not expect as much energy as I had from a story about Riley, was that he needed me to be quiet. He had to get up for work in the morning, and if he didn't sleep soon he would never get up!

Oh I see...so it would be my fault. Sorry for keeping you up for a few kisses. Sorry for keeping the pup quiet simply because I KNEW you needed to sleep. My eyes began to burn, that familiar burn, when you are fighting off tears because you don't want someone to see that weakness. "I'm going to take a bath, and see if I can feel better". That was retorted yet again, harshly with "Brit I need you to not tell me anything".

I hurried to the bathroom, turning on the water and cried. Not a simple crying session like I expressed earlier. These were tears from my very soul. I have not been on my medication for 2 months now. My depression has crept its way back into everyday life, and I have been miserable. There are few things that make me smile or care:
My pets,
my husband,
and my best friend Holly.

And lately the only thing not making me cry were the pets.

See in the living room, while playing with Riley. I zoned out while she played with the cats. I simply thought "I could do it. I know I can. It isn't that tough." Then Riley barked, taking me out of the zone and smiling. But then the whole "I need to sleep" episode happened—which for a normal situation, a very understandable request. Even then and now I sat there and knew he was not being cruel. He did not know my thoughts and if he had, he simply would have thought "forget about work…I'm going to care for her tonight". But I didn't share my thoughts. He needed to go to work. I put my self needs behind his, he needs his sleep. I never mind doing that. I do not regret it either.

The bath contained similar thoughts about how I could, I was able and such. I picked up my book to read instead of dwelling on such thoughts. After a rather long bath, I went back to bed to my husband who by the signs of his shallow breath and stiff body, had entered REM long before my bath had ended. He was sprawled across the bed too. I tried to push him over, he wouldn't budge. He was sleeping better than he had for quite some time so I went and got Riley. We went to sleep in the other bedroom. She slept just fine. I however, did not. The pain kept getting worse. Finally I broke down to take those meds, and take ANOTHER bath. I needed something to subdue it while giving the medicine time to work its way through my blood stream. I read more of my book. I crept into bed, still in pain and Matthew eventually woke up, simply put a hand on my abdomen, rubbed it slightly and fell back into REM. The kind gesture was comforting, but I was in so much pain still. Finally I drifted off into sleep.



A few more explanations?

I am not depressed about my marriage. I actually, for the majority of the time am quite happy with it. We are generally very open with each other, best friends, and want to help each other. We have still been that way through this trial I am in. Last night simply...was nearly unbearable.

I cry at the drop of a hat, and I hate it. I can constantly berate myself that when my dear friend tells me how bad I paint my nails...we are all joking. It is quite obvious. I have seen her paint her nails, and it is just as awkward as me. But...when I get home away from everything...I feel like she just tolerates me. I know this isn't true. I really really know this. But it doesn't matter though, because Something...someone keeps lying to me.


I've become paranoid again. Thank you lack of medication once again.

I believe that no one really likes me. That it is just a matter of time before they give up. I do not have the energy to clean my house, you should see it. Actually no, I would be severely embarrassed and my depression would probably skyrocket at that. I keep thinking about cutting, and a list of other self harm tactics. I have yet to bring myself to revert to that. Matt threatened to turn me in last time. Granted I do not believe him anymore, I do not want to hurt Matt. He is the only one that would truly be hurt by that part of it. He's the only one that would know.

So I have written an extra long blog, and its interesting that i find myself in a dilemma. I want you to read it. I don't want you to read it. I am scared you will confront me. I am scared you will not confront me.

So when I told you in the last blog that I had lost it...yeh, I wasn't lying.

An Explanatation of Sorts

And so, it begins....

It? She starts with it?!

I believe an explanation is expected. I started a blog after years of not having one anymore, and then I name it something like "Walking through Wardrobes". Have I finally lost it?

My dear sir or madam,

I lost it quite a long time ago (there she goes with the "its" again). My sanity that is...but anywho, for that title.

Walking through Wardrobes

Who gets the reference? Anyone? Any takers? I will give you a hint:


Very good. Glad we're on the same page for now. Oh, and while Google searching an image such as that I found this: And I became ecstatic. Some children are still dreaming, and hoping that Narnia just might be real. These are the children that check every wardrobe they come across (because believe me they are quite rare). These are the children that splash in puddles for completely different reasons than the rest of children their age. See, these are the children that will stare into paintings of a mighty vessel out to sea for hours if you let them...and will pray that when something horrid happens in their lives...Narnia will call them back.

I was one of those children. (Not in the picture mind you).

A dear friend of mine, even to this day, and I used to play Narnia in the woods behind her childhood abode. We dressed up, we wrote our own stories of things that Lewis forgot...like how surely King Peter would have wed someone, and Queen Susan too. Those were our favorites. High King Peter being mine...and Susan hers. For hours we'd play and pretend.

Now I cannot speak for her...there was only once that we were together, and we both..only for a second, thought that in the wardrobe we saw a light... a tunnel... (Unfortunately someone had put a mirror in the back of the wardrobe...how cruel!).

But so many times, I wished it could all be true. An alternate reality where I could be a princess or queen, a warrior, and a lover, all while dancing with the fauns and dryads by the moonlight. A fantasy world...an escape from this hell I already lived within.

The lack of such a world caused me to be a bit of a cynic, more than most. But it also taught me to have hope. See, I still hope. I still catch myself staring into my grandmother's painting..hoping that I will feel the salty breeze whip at my face, and in a blink of an eye I will be in the presence of Aslan, Prince Caspian, Puddleglum, Reepicheep, and the Kings and Queens of old. That I will be needed to help slay the evil Jadis that has plagued Narnia since Polly Plummer and Digory Kirke lead her to the world.

And so,

it begins.