Man, I did NOT want to get out of bed this morning. Literally, and not in a cozy, let’s settle in kind of way. My body is still adjusting to the IUD I had inserted in August, and it is really messing with my hormonal balance. That, and unexpected shit with the car rental for Jeff, and I have no good barrier for not absorbing his helplessness and feeling like I need to fix things. Really deeply despairing feeling, I just wanted to hide and listen to audiobooks all day. I got up and I’m cleaning, which I hope will help, but I hate this feeling like everything is wrong, everyone hates me or thinks I’m insipid/dumb/loud, whatever, and I should be able to be happy and wise and engaged but I’m broken, ad nauseum… it’s a really sucky feeling. I’m taking a break from places like Facebook, which can really feed this crap in my head. Right now I’m having a break for oatmeal and coffee. Maybe that will help too.
I had a dream about Jasmine last night that’s been haunting me all morning. In my dream I had a huge block of clay, which I molded into a sculpture of Jasmine. It looked just like her, almost lifelike… and then it opened it’s eyes. She was in there – her soul was in there – and she couldn’t move the body. She was trapped. She couldn’t talk. She just looked at me, terrified. And I had to tell her that I was going to destroy the sculpture so she could be free. And then, in my dream, I absolutely broke down and sobbed, my tears literally soaking the clay. I apologized and begged her to forgive me for trapping her in that body. And then I lifted it up and took it away to be dismantled, so her soul could be free.
Obviously this is a metaphor for her death, and her body. And I know why I had the dream – Gab and I were talking about her death last night, about what had happened with her lungs. It was actually a really clinical discussion, not super emotional at all. In real life, when Jasmine died, her eyes were closed, and I didn’t have to face her and admit that I had birthed her into a body that couldn’t hold her, and that I would release her from that body.
Now I know, before anyone rushes to say it, that I didn’t do anything wrong to have her born that way. I know that. But clearly I have some feelings on a deep-rooted level that say otherwise. So yeah, add that to the hormonal cauldron, and stir. I really want to go back to bed, but the house needs to be cleaned, and homework has to be done and life has to go on.