Category: Stream of Thought

Free Will is merely an abstract construct once the heart is conscripted into the service of another where there is no hope for reciprocation.

If I find the right word to name it, perhaps the spell will release. For I cannot live another life without also obtaining my ease.

To break any cycle, I must no longer play the game.

It seems that I must keep myself amused and take solace in these brief moments of levity.

It has seemed that the goal one should have when feeling alone is to somehow break the cycle by expanding out from one’s isolation and becoming a part of the greater collective.

However, finding that I can not do that to anywhere near prior capacity, the alternative given to me is to learn to not give a f***.

I must break free of attachments which do not reciprocate my fealty to them.

I wonder at times if I understand and accept in people’s variability more than I ought to.

Worked. Helped people.

Earned money. Spent on supplies.

And helped a woman on tbe street in need.

In analyzing the frenetic hindbrain impulsing, the one thing I can learn to change is not letting myself get caught up in the whirlwind of it.

It may still press and try to drive me, but if I exert my will and become specifically disciplined in my scheduling, then I can reduce adding to it.

Perhaps I can accept less of my productivity – yet, increase quality by gaining the rest that I need.

I need to figure out how to revamp the script of my life: perceptions, interpretations, and how I use and reboot my inner light.

The one consistency has been disruption – so I need to figure out how to make it work for me.

I am already here, so why does it hurt so much?

We have acquired after 12 years of struggle a new starting point.

Why the pressure as if I am encountering resistance?

I face it head on, but lowered – with shoulders hunched and squared forward.

Preparing for work tomorrow requires acknowledging the anxiety brought on by that stupid 5 mgs of prednizone days ago.

My counselor suggests that ssri’s are great for reducing fight or flight reactivity from trauma.

Why? Why would I wish to conscript my already fragile system to more suppressionism?

I do not react well to medications of any kind.

Who and what I am just wants to figure out how to effectively function on my own again.

An issue with unconditional love is that if one truly ascribes to it, it becomes difficult to have proper boundaries – and to recognize when certain situations have become too toxic for one’s health and continued involvement.

So much unnecessary pain in life comes from people accidentally misunderstanding each other.

Yes…let the healing bathe me.

I need it, want it, and must learn how to embrace it.

My youngest and I got through the thickest; my eldest and I are reconnecting; and my ex and I have neutralized toward distant friendship.

I “Swear to God” that this resurgence of trauma processing better dislodge and topple its foundation because there is only so much more pain and suffering from this that I can take before I fe-cking break!

Sometimes, no matter one’s efforts or intentions in swimming life’s currents, forces greater than them can push them too far out to sea – and then leave them crashed and broken on some foreign shore far away from where they first began. And then, they find that there is no home to return to.

Before our first breakup, we had the makings of an amazing life together and I was on my way back to him to tell him that I had figured out how we got misdirected. But then his accidents happened – and from then on, there was never room given for our amends. We were thrown back together and my message rendered mute as survival and family relations took precedence.

“You don’t need me, you know…you have everything that you need, contained inside your head.”

It was a bacterial infection – and after the first day’s double dosage, my lungs are quickly responding!

If I am at the bottom of the swing, there is only going up from here.

The barnacles along tidal pools understand that when nourishment of water receeds, they must hold on tight to their grips as seal and wait for the tide to return again.

When one craves power, they can be controlled.

One’s sense of self can get too identified with it.

Do I dare to keep reaching for the light of life and love’s embrace when death and loss seem to be waiting around every corner?

The frothy, sticky-layered mucus which is hard to nose-blow out because it keeps coming is an indicator that white blood cells are now coating the lining of my respiratory tract surfaces.

These are the amassed efforts of my body’s immune system rallying to take over and win the fight for my inner territory against virus and/or bacteria waging invasion.

Is it at this point that I must believe the battle is turning in my favor? If so, I must avoid further good bacteria decimating antibiotics and just reach for the nourishing supplements that will rebuild my strength’s defenses…

I must return to the walk-in and insist upon getting full-spectrum antibiotics.

My lungs are not getting better and my stamina is shakey.

I have not worked for a week and our coffers are barren.

I have clients lined up this next week and I need to be able to help them.

I am a major bread winner – a major contributor for our family.

I must recover now and be able to work my magic.

The corruption of time’s breaking down cellular harmony seems inevitable.

The animals are older now and when we should at last be relaxing and happy, the cat’s bodies are more prone to injuries.

Yesterday, our fawn Somali was found torsioned, exhibiting signs of neck and spine trauma. Her knees and hips are getting weaker and she must have fallen from a height at speed.

So I did what I did for my once-fiance’s injured kitten and gave her liquid B-vitamins diluted in water by dropperfuls for the shock. Then, I subjected her neck and spine to intense manual massage and gentle manipulation.

This has worked to help our seizing brown tabby ever since he had a fall, but it was difficult to feel that I am a good person while being the tormenting savior.

Had we taken her to the vet, they would have isolated her and done medical procedures when clearly the issue was muscular. They would have suggested we do an operation or end her life.

Since my first treatment of her, she has still been disoriented but is interested in eating. We put her in a crate for ease of access to what she needs and to support her rest and neural recalibrating.

There is no money in the bank, so it is a waiting game and dependent upon my own home-grown follow-up treatments. I will, however, seek out an animal chiropractor who will be willing to do therapy trade.

To be always on the brink of losing what I love without hope for getting ahead and overcoming weighs heavily on my spirit. I experience life fleetingly passing between my hands while I call the light to help restore it.

I cry to keep its presence in our present.

I have traveled down too many darkened corridors, listening for cries of pain from souls without hope so that I might help free them.

Even in the daylight, the dark comes for us – and I have that natural talent just waiting to help ease others’ suffering.

So it is quite the awkward psotition for me to be in when I am the one who is suffering; I am the one who is in pain; I am the one who needs the light bringer to help chase the darkness away.

I have always been independent out of survival’s necessity, and I do not like being hamstrung by trends of parasitical energetic draining.

I feel and look weak. I am a wreck at times emotionally. My passions flare fiercely in self defense when repressed and there are no clear solutions presenting.

I reject myself as a candidate for the kind of amazing man that I am desiring.

He deserves better – and yet, where does this leave me?

On my own again, as usual just…now I am floundering.

It is a bizarre concept of sorts for me to pursue – this idea of looking for a partner so into me that they will be inspired to invest in me.

On one hand, of course both partners ought to be interested in advancing each other’s well being, etc.

But, it jangles my self ego alert to think I should have this as a qualifier.

I guess I am confused/conflicted because usually I am the giver.

I keep pushing against barriers until I make dreams the reality. Only thing is that now I am just too depleted in reserves to keep aspiring.

I would create my movie to help inspire humsnity.

Fear. Struggle. Exhaustion. Panic. Anxiety.

I would further develop my healing method and share the training with others while expanding capabilities.

There is yet so much to understand about the human body’s capability for healimg!

These are things I know about me.

I would finish my bachelor’s so that “big wigs” could feel reassured that they could listen to me.

I would complete the TEFL series so that when I am traveling, I could have fun conversations about language fluency with clients and people I would meet.

I would get my dogs the training they needed so they understood to come back when called and to walk beside me in harmony – instead of pulling this way and that against my hurt shoulders in disharmony.

I would spend more time with my youngling and we would travel back home to visit; go to shows, concerts, and creative events; and do other things that make us feel happy.

I would travel to and help pay for my eldest’s family and extended family to visit us locally.

I would play with the yard and cultivate another hummingbird haven while at last getting not just one – but successive crops of sweet-crunching joy-my-mouth snap peas.

I would back off from worrying if I could lose everything to the next catastrophe, heal my adrenal system, lose weight, and get firm-toned “sexy.”

I would invest in my creative side to discover more of my capabilities, learn more about music and producing, and better train my singing.

I would advocate for the old Duke Energy Plant in Morro Bay to be turned into a sister aquarium to Monterey Bay and the Channel Islands, and for Los Osos central parkland to be restored – crowning it with an environmental tourism center in which would be sold my butterfly bumper stickers for tourists to enjoy and proudly display.

Driving North along Highway 1 through Morro Bay and Cayucos among the Monarch butterflys during their migration was amazing.

Trying not to hit them, I was fascinated by this phenomenon and have always wanted a big bumper sticker on the back of my car window which declares to all that “I Brake For Butterflys.”

My mind does not cling to data point calculation theories, but seeks intuitively for truths where they have been hiding.

When I was young, I lost father figures to marijuana, trauma, and abandonment.

As I matured, the same cycles happened.

I have not known a healthy reflection of mind, body, and spirit.

What would it be like to be embraced by this?

I have never encountered a man’s heart with the same innovation and pure will’s determination to love no matter what as I possess.

I have lived my life on this planet for 52 years.

I think I may speak my Peace.

“I have answered your question by sendng an invitation in material reality – are or you merely my dream wraith?”

Taxes, client records, maybe Tefl, gardening, applying for scholarships/grants, dabble.

Being the wild-spirited adventurer that apparently I am, I keep expecting that my next steps will be to expand further outward – when in fact, they are to turn inward.

Wrapped between a heating pad and an electric blanket, once warmed she turned each off and burrowed underneath her mounded blankets.

What I need is rest and diversified security.

Does this mean that I keep delaying creativity?

Part of my nightly routine has been to spray my nose with saline as a virus prevention after being close-quarter-exposed to clients.

But I realize now that perhaps my lungs do not like the resultant post-nasal drip – seeing as how I am developing lung infenctions more frequently.

Hope is a risk when one is out of fuel and used to life smudging amd smearimg their vision board.

I cannot help but feel insecurity about having had to return to the walki-in clinic after taking the medication that was prescribed to me.

Hindsight can makes fools of us all.

Upon going to the walk-in to have my lungs checked and finding no fluid by x-ray (given the amount of crackling, coughing, and wheezing), the doctor prescribed me prednisone to help reduce inflammation.

After procurring the medication, I decided to try 1/4 of the dose prescribed this afternoon to test my reaction – rather than the 20mgs prescribed in the morning – with side effects mildly warned that I could experience some anxiety.

Once I swallowed the cracked component, second by second, exponentially cascade-magnifying symptoms erupted – and I knew that I had done something wrong.

My face suddenly filled with that heavy, bags-under-bloodshot-eyes feeling; I felt a numbing, drugged-out feeling overtaking me; my consciousness began immediately shutting down as if I were about to pass out; and the left side of my chest began experiencing increasing squeezing pressure.

I called my family support team and the walk-in to let them all know that I was hurrying back for observation. The clinic found that my blood pressure was elevated to way above its normal routine, so I stayed in the clinic chest down on an exam table with my legs elevated until my body could reduce it back toward self regulation.

I should have realized that one should not take a stimulant when they already have a depleted adrenal system – but the doctor had seemed so sure that a steroid was the correct lung solution.