Okay, so let me first start this post by saying, I hate the theme I chose when I recently updated my blog. Umm…think just a tad bit too ‘showy’ for me? I was aiming towards something that might be a little lighter, fresher, but I don’t think that this was the result I was looking for. Every time I look at it I almost expect faeries to start coming off the page or some shit, so I close it. Anyway, be prepared in the future for me to change it yet again, cause…Damn!
I had a dream Saturday night. I vaguely remember the first half—but I remember the last. My last memory of the dream before waking up, and it was vivid, was of my own suicide.
There are no details, I don’t know where I was going or where I’d came from; only that I was driving and the conditions were such I shouldn’t have been out. The roads were slick, the wind was blowing snow and visibility was limited. My knuckles were white from holding on tightly to the steering wheel because it was pulling. I instinctively knew if I didn’t control it that I was going to wreck.
I began thinking about all the arguing that my husband and I do every weekend when he’s home from work. I no longer pretend that the little efforts he makes to appease me are acceptable, and I’m constantly on edge and depressed: I’m unhappy with his job that keeps him out of town all week, while I am here in the country alone. I’m angry that he maintains his car, makes sure that he can get around when he needs to, but has been working on mine off and on for months, refuses to take it in to the shop, and because I don’t feel safe driving it any distance for fear it will break down I stay home all the time. I’m pissed off as hell that he wants to run most of the time by himself on the weekends, and when he does take me somewhere—usually out to eat, or tagging along with him to buy something he thinks he needs–it always has to be places that he wants to go. I’m so tired of picking up all the slack at home while he’s away, but not having anything I do be considered a contribution; and that because of this he leaves me only with a few groceries, enough cigarettes to carry me till he gets home, and no money. But more than that, I’m really sad that I can’t find any passion in our marriage anymore. The end result is there is not only any passion in my marriage anymore, but also absolutely none I can find in my life either.
I thought of these things while gripping the steering wheel in my dream, the bulk of them passing through my thoughts quickly as if they were but one. The last thing I remember was tears filling my eyes before squeezing them shut, pushing the gas pedal to the floor, and taking my hands off the wheel.
You can imagine how bothered I was about this dream after waking up. Being such an advocate of ‘Life’ since my best friend killed herself four years ago, it’s completely against my nature now to even consider this as an alternative. So I was visibly shaken and quite puzzled by what it meant. Was I that close to the edge? Was I suicidal again?
I shared this dream with my husband as I was preparing breakfast for the ten puppies yesterday morning. Yes, the weaning processed has already started, as they are now three weeks, and it is messy! I must admit, his reaction bothered me more than the dream itself, when he said nothing more than “Huh” and walked from the room. This might’ve been fine if I’d very matter of fact proclaimed “You’d never guess the weird dream I had last night…”, but that’s not how it played out. Rather, I found myself shaking with tears in my eyes as I told him about it, and he acted as though nothing was amiss.
I found myself unable to shrug off the memory of letting go of that steering wheel as I went about my housework yesterday. I replayed it over and over again in my mind looking for hidden meanings. I finally came to the conclusion that I don’t think it was a sign that I’m on the edge and ready to let go of life, but rather that I’m on the edge and ready to let go of this life. I’ve been trying to maneuver my way through unsatisfactory and unhealthy conditions for a long while now. I’ve refused to give up, to fail once again, so I keep moving forward, trying to control that which is nearly uncontrollable. I’ve ignored help for roadside assistance and passed by numerous rest areas. It’s as if I’m unable to put the brakes on. Maybe, just maybe, this dream is God’s way of saying it’s time to let go of the wheel and allow the journey to end, even if it means having to limp away from the wreckage and my life be altered completely. At least I find this explanation more acceptable than the alternative.
I have no doubt that this dream was probably also in part a result of all the death that’s been rearing its ugly head around me recently. Death. I’m forever trying to avoid it, but constantly being confronted by it. And like a puddle of water in my path I can’t walk around, it matters little how hard I try to tippy-toe across, I know my feet are going to get wet despite my efforts. First, the loss of the Old Man’s Godfather, one of my new pups, and this past week two more people I had been acquainted with, both in their fifties. That’s a way to wake up the realization of your own mortality. Last but not least, one other thing I’ve failed to mention till now, Saturday was the anniversary of my older brother, Allyn’s, disappearance. It’s been twenty seven years since he got in his car, pulled away from his home, and was never seen again. Twenty seven years of not knowing what happened, only that he was met with foul play, but never having the closure that comes from burying our own. Yes, I have no doubt that all these things probably contributed to the dream, but can’t deny that it’s probably my subconscious reminding me that I only have one life to live and I haven’t been doing it. I just needed to get that off my chest.
It hasn’t all been bad since my last post. I did get out for a while on St. Pats and ran into a couple of old friends I hadn’t seen in years. My son, Jud, also brought his new girlfriend out this past weekend so we could get acquainted, and I must say I really like her. The remaining ten puppies in the litter are healthy, active, and I’m thoroughly enjoying the time I have with them till I find them new homes. I wish I would’ve thought to take pics of being out and about and of my boy and his girl, but it seldom occurs to me to break out the camera anymore. I do need to update some new photos of the pups though, as my niece has wanted to see how they’re growing, so I will be closing with some of those.
We have a batch of black and yellows, but as you will see were blessed with what’s called a ‘black and tan’—which comes out with the markings of a Rottweiler. She is a precious little girl that I’ve named Sassy Girl, but unfortunately appears to have some problems. I believe it’s nothing more than nerve damage to her mouth—as she seems to have difficulty controlling her tongue—but as of yet haven’t taken her to the vet to find out for sure, as she doesn’t seem to have anything else wrong with her. She responds to me when she sees and hears me, her appetite is good, and she’s gaining weight, so I’ll be waiting till I take them in for their first shots before I get an expert opinion. If the diagnosis isn’t good and she ails from something more, Sassy Girl will be raised by me. Yeah, I know…I need another Lab like I need another hole in the noggin, huh? Anyway, here’s some pics of my darling babies. They were three weeks old Friday. Enjoy!
Sorry if they looked like they’ve been hitting the ‘bottle’. The only time I can get pics is after they eat when they aren’t climbing all over me. 🙂