Contumacious Charlie

 Hey Readers! As you can see, I am still alive and the stairs did not in fact take me out! I have just been really busy trying to get some things taken care of before I return to school. My next semester starts in a couple of weeks and I still have a number of things to do to get my space organized and clutter-free! Speaking of clutter... Why is it our subconscious seems to be the place holder for our psychological clutter? Why is it that the clutter needs to be cleaned up while we are sleeping? I am talking about dreams that are detailed and vivid, which also seem to hold some significant meaning. Why can't my subconscious self just explain to my conscious self what it is I need to address? Why must it be riddled and enmeshed with symbolism and people I have lost in my life? As you can clearly see, I am also processing some things as I declutter and organize my living space. It feels good to at least have control over one of them!

  That was what flashed through my mind as I went ass-over-head down the stairs yesterday afternoon! Seven measly, carpeted stairs...  My EMS training kicked in as I hit the bottom and my legs uncurled from above my head and flopped in a normal position. I stayed still as I did a quick assessment. I was conscious, breathing, and had a pulse... so far, so good. I slowly flexed my toes and fingers and worked my way up my arms and legs to check other areas along the way. Once I was somewhat assured I had not broken any limbs, I slowly rolled over and made my way to a kneeling position and checked again, paying attention to my head, vision, jaw, and hearing.  I finally made it to my feet and picked up the box of stuff that went flying out of my hands when my foot missed the step. I cursed... then cursed some more, but all in all, everything was intact. I knew I was going to be sore and still needed to get checked out, so I went in to see my chiropractor, who ended up sen...

Today, I sat with a lot of noise. Keep in mind, I was the only one who could hear it because it was all in my head. It seems the vivid dreams are causing a ruckus emotionally, which simply means there are emotions I need to process.  The fuckery at the moment is Grief. Just when I thought it was easing its way back out the door, BOOM it saw something shiny in those vivid dreams and decided, "Nope there is more fuckery to perform! I shall stay and see it done!" Grief is a bitch! The thing about grief is I have seen people wear it almost like a second skin. It just becomes part of who they are and where they are in the process. I also see those same people coming around to a place of enjoyment in their lives. I see them smile again, laugh again, and take deeper breaths. Why is it I feel like I am always holding my breath, as if the air is still knocked out of me? I want to get back to breathing.  Some things may never be answered. What I can answer is what I need right now and ...

Sigh.  I know, I missed posting something yesterday. It was not my intention, but it really came down to being busy. I had to completely switch two rooms in my house around, which involved at least 167 trips between the basement and my bedroom, which are 2 stories apart in both directions. By the end of the day, I was sore and exhausted, so that is my excuse.  Yesterday is not the only day I have missed in my life in the past 24 hours. When I say "missed" I don't mean it in the sense of "I missed my appointment." I mean it in the sense of "I long for the day that." I have been having vivid dreams. I mean, vivid in the sense of waking up pissed off and disappointed that what I dreamed was not real. The kind of dream that if I drank alcohol, I would have felt intoxicated when I opened my eyes vivid. In this one, I dreamed that someone who died was very much alive and being a pain in my ass, which made me grateful she was alive, because that is what made ...