Migraines, Dreams, and fucked up brains

What surprised me about going through one of my more terrible migraines last night was how part of it pleased me. In some odd way it was slightly a pleasant experience and this just struck me and now I want to explore why.
I think with immense pain, it's never the pain itself that I like. I’m no masochist. Part of it is about the relief afterwards. Seems a microcosm to a whole life. Think of everyday without any kind of suffering or hardship. Everything’s ok, good, perfect even! ...but it would become so banal after awhile…. so unbearably dull. You’d be missing the passion to get better, to thrive, resist, fight, overcome… lacking that is worse than any pain.

I ate some chicken from Wal-Mart yesterday and it tasted fine, but no more than an hour after it went down my stomach was turning and I could feel that sluggy feeling in my blood when I’ve consumed something unhealthy, usually preservatives or chemicals they put in food. I’m very sensitive to that stuff. A lot of it really hurts me and I feel miserable almost always, except when I don’t eat much at all. When I go a whole day without eating is when I feel best, hungry yes, but fucking a lot better than what most food does to me. I think I have an overly sensitive digestive tract. Luckily I don’t get heartburn but sometimes I feel like I swallowed razor blades and it’s dragging along my small intestine. Water helps.
I probably need a highly specialized diet but I guess I don’t want to become that finicky or categorize myself as one of those pain in the ass girls that cant be pleased. Cause I’m not like that. It’s just my body.
I should just eat pure vegetables, all fresh and organic for a month. Nothing prepared in boxes or frozen. Lean fresh meats like fish, tuna, chicken. No fast no food. No eating out. I bet I’d feel way better. But my social life doesn’t fit that nor does a sense of fun or just convenience. It’s easier to just eat less snacks and junk. But once in a while I eat something like that. I don’t think a whole lot about it really. I mean thinking about how I should formulate my diet, though I should be thinking about it. I think about the discomfort and it makes me not want to eat. oh and saltine crackers are my best friend. They always ease upset stomach and indigestion. And they help me go to sleep. That with skim milk. It makes me like a baby. Crackers like that (not Ritz or any other trans fat nightmare) are simple enough that my body likes it. I like the fat free ones because they are so dry and I love that texture to food. Most people would find it to be like cardboard but I think it’s perfect simple staple food. Nothing extravagant or gourmet. Nothing fancy and about palate pleasure. Crackers are about soothing.

Anyway, so that chicken from Wal-Mart must have had preservatives in it or MSG or something. Because I felt sick to my stomach right afterwards. Then I could feel it in my brain, like a tightening restricting feeling inside my skull. I knew a headache was coming. I started drinking lots of water to flush it but it wasn’t going to help. By the time I got home, I felt oddly so exhausted (although I don’t know if the tiredness had anything to do with the chicken) I went to bed at 8. I woke up at midnight after having a series of really fucked up dreams. And my head hurt so bad I honestly think I know what it must feel like to have a screwdriver stabbed into your brain along the eyeball to where it rips through but doesn’t kill you. I lay there exasperated by pain. I think I hallucinated a little to be honest. I was half awake and started lucidly dreaming (where you control the dream and are fully aware that you are dreaming) It was actually pretty creative and it made me start thinking about how the things we think as beautiful in art are really the product of brain damage. It comes from fucked up people who have a mental disorder…which if you break true psychological disorders down they are some sort of brain damage or unbalanced brain chemistry. Not to diminish mental disorders as a genuine medical field or oversimplify them. I meant no offense. But you know…
Crazy people always make the coolest stuff. If you’ve ever read the statement Charlie Manson gave in court you sit there and think, “what the bloody hell is he talking about?” and you keep reading and it seems like such a beautifully put and deeply thoughtful statement, but you never know when you get to the end what it really was about.
Anyway, the dreams I had were really sweet and I wish I had them recorded somehow. And I only have dreams like that… well, on a regular basis my dreams are incredibly vivid and I remember them with minute detail. But they get super intense when I’m on cold medicine or when I sleep with a migraine. It fucks my head all up. My everyday dreams seem like a lot to most people. I think all people have much more to their dreams than they think. They just don’t remember. It takes practice. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my dreams. I used to record them by writing them out every morning. Doing that helps your recall process and changes the way you remember them forever. You have to want it though. It’s interesting exploring your own mind as if it’s not a part of you, like it’s someone else’s.
I think that’s where the pleasure comes in. Though migraines hurt a lot and you have (quite seriously) moments where you would rather just die than feel that shit any longer, pain like that strips you down to your essentials, to the barest sense of you. Something else deeper wants to survive and get better and it’s like that part of yourself comes vibrantly out of its shell and feeling it is nice. It’s so primal and animalistic.
I fell asleep again by 4 and woke up a little after 7, got ready for work. I had taken an Aleve and that usually completely erases my migraines, nothing else ever seems to work, even Excedrin. Anyway, it was gone by morning which put me in a incredibly good mood stemming purely from sheer relief. I like grading my migraines like tornadoes. That one was F4. F5 is worst. At one point I thought I was bleeding inside my head…seriously. I’ve come to terms with the fact that migraines are going to be a regular part of my life. My mom gets them, My grandma gets them. It’s genetic. So I’ve gotten used to the way they feel and know how to manage the pain. I bet if any random everyday person who’s never had a migraine before had the migraine I had last night they would’ve gone to the emergency room. Ha.

i think girls with noses like this are extremely pretty, though they always tend to be self-conscious about it...

the way the carpet feels on bare feet. and how the smell of my grandma's house always leaves with me in my hair.

Here’s what I said to myself earlier:
“Maybe you should just stop caring, let your life get easier
stop trying so hard to find meaning where there isn't any.
certain things you must let go.”

You ever feel like maybe you're just a gay man trapped in a girl's body? Over and over drawn to men of questionable sexuality. You never know until later, maybe even before they know themselves. Like your attraction alone is the perfect natural radar.
Men keep looking at you like a sex object… never seems quite right. It just repulses you, yet still there's something about the idea of penetration that's enthralling yet piggishly disgusting. That’s how I find the female in me still. But I’ve never really belonged to either gender.

Why is it we’re always waiting for people to become fascinated with the tiny details of our lives? In the end I’m all who noticed and cared. I like watching movies that follow someone around and examine the tiny details of their lives. They just sit and eat a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and that’s all and there will be a five minute scene about it…. So dreadfully long. How many times did you look away? i could watch someone’s life like that forever and waste mine watching another’s. If I had three wishes I’d ask for three lifetimes to sit and do nothing but watch through the eyes of the three most “boring” lives. And see what they see forever, and hear their thoughts and maybe get a trickling feeling of their emotions too.

so many words

it amazes me how sometimes you can have thousands of words with someone over the course of time as you know them and never reach any real substantial progress in the relationship you have with them. nothing changes about your relationship, nothing grows. Despite it, though, you still keep going and trying, starting things and seeking it out. wondering how long it will stay so stagnant and if any of it is your fault.
so many words though, all meaningless.

obstacle of pretending and plenty of self-denial

i don't want to worry about what to call it... can i just love you?

a couple of kooks

11 29 10
It seems like you could just wait, and there'd be a chance later… to really speak and open up,
to really say all you wanted to say but couldn’t in the first moment, while you held back trying to be appropriate and "not too personal"
But it kills you when you eventually find out that there is no later. There is no second chance.
That moment is all you get and now it's gone and they never saw you, heard you, connected with you.
You’re still hidden and you're still nobody. Still so fucking alone.
Just now, we finished a nearly-hour long conversation and I said not one word with any deep meaning. I’m left so unfulfilled, so exasperated inside. I’m breathless and, God, there simply is too much I need to say to him. There is no “how” anymore. It’s gotten out of hand, far out my reach. I can’t control my emotions anymore. I can’t stop this raging feeling of humanism, bonding, honesty, empathy, love.
It never works. I never see. It’s always just me and myself at the end of the day.
She is there still, the only one who really talks to me.
And, just to say, nothing is his fault. He didn’t fail or fall short on that conversation. I love that he even talked to me. He tried. He instigated. He held it out. But ultimately I’m too much of a monster for him.
He’s sweet and simple. Good and kind. I can’t begin to explain to you how much I would unintentionally fuck him up.
Everything good is just a dream.
:::
Do we ever get to a point where everything that happens internally has just as much importance as what's externally happening? They’ve always been the same thing for me, as far as how much it affects me.
Who are we externally and internally…why do they have to be so different? I am two people. But better inside. Inside, I make my own rules and I don’t have to wait for anyone’s decision or approval. Human will can be such a tricky thing. People misunderstand, or it takes too long to make them understand. While my need for love starts to kill me and I’m withering, crumpling.

12 6 10

Part of the drive to live is for people to know about it. I can’t help but want to explore great things, see wondrous things but I can’t stand not sharing it and finding out others feel it too. If the world were all apes and I was the only intelligent one, and I had all these glorious thoughts, seeing beautiful truths… but it was all known alone, still I’d be so sad none of it would matter. It’s nothing without consensus and genuine connection. Part of truth is our inevitable connection to one another, and our love for one another. If I couldn’t share it I’d simply die of sadness. It’s part of what hope means.

Stop being so damned entertained!

we've come to a dangerous place of expectation; we lie and live in our worlds of entertainment and
lose our innate ability to be frank and honest with each other. "Human" is no longer extraordinary.
All conversations are doomed to be boring.

:::
Rising expectation is an idea that I first read in the very beginning of the play Faust. The manager talks about not being able to please the crowd becuase the last show was so good and now this time, they'll all expect something even better. It's gotten to a point where it's not a good show anymore people want, but just to be wowed and surprised further. Their hunger for extraneous and outlandish drives and soars but will always surpass the entertainer's ability eventually. There's a point when it cant get better. Peoples' interest then take a dive and they wont care, which is tragic.

I think we do this in normal life as well, and not just in entertainment. Sometimes we get so used to being thrilled in our internal worlds lushed out by watching movies, reading great books, etc.. so that just talking to someone is boring.
It really shouldn't be. We want a car to come crashing out of the ceiling and then your super strength arm to lash out just in the nick of time to save their life.
We want drama and extremes, we want things to move move move fast fast fast. go go go like there's no time for pauses or lingering thought. Get to the point, make it loud, make it so BOOM! in your face. exciting WOW
never just two people chatting plainly and having a great time (in their faces AND in their hearts)

dad.

Being a girl growing up without a dad is like being a big complex machine missing one tiny bolt. Most of the time, the machine works and apparently has no problems. But, every once in awhile, it fucks up and no one seems to know why. You can’t trace something that miniscule and hidden, it’s one of those small pieces that seems so insignificant. Yet, the bolt is doing so much more; it is a central piece, a lot of things about the machine are banking on it working, and just being there.
The malfunction seems so harmless in its nonchalant prying apart of your soul, not flagrantly, not massively, but still prying.

purpose of tragedy.

What would you do if everything were as “perfect” as you imagine the world is supposed to be? How do you know that all the bad things that happen aren’t just normal and that world where everything is in order is just a dream?
If everything fell into place: people never got divorced, cars never broke down in the middle of the interstate, dads cared for their children and stuck around their whole lives, no one committed murder or suicide, no one bullied anyone, a four year old doesn’t get terminal cancer, no one takes what isn’t theirs, manufacturers made food with the public health and well-being as their foremost concern, no one deceives you towards their own advantage… if all these things and more (the countless other atrocities) went away, could you really say our world is still our world? Is it beyond human nature? Maybe life is not about achieving order and control and complete peace. Maybe it’s simply impossible. Maybe no matter what we try, people will always have something really shitty happen to them. Someone will die young, or get disabled. Someone will be molested or raped. Someone will feel undermined and insignificant to his or her parents. On and on.
Maybe a backdrop of tragedy is what defines our race; we overcome most of it and define ourselves by the scars left behind. We become so-called better people, stronger people.
Wouldn’t we be too bored without tragedy?

Parents (part 1)

I have absolutely nothing to say. I just wanted to contribute another entry, useless as it may turn out to be. Sometimes great things emerge with these kinds of starts. But I like to approach things without expectation, even though that’s quite difficult. Expectation can be a dangerous thing.

Today is Rob’s birthday (Nick’s brother). He was really disappointed when I told him I wasn’t interested in having children in my lifetime. He said he always envisioned me as a great mom; he really was sorely disappointed. Could I really be another good one in the world? According to FB word count, I use “really” a lot. That must get really annoying.

But shuffle me on back to my topic: Mothers.

I don’t want to be one. Good parents are rare, and they definitely have my utmost respect and reverence. But being a parent is a life choice and it is NOT right for all people. Just we because we are all hard-wired to do it doesn’t mean it suits each of us. It’s seems like nature’s urging… this desire to procreate and keep the species going. But I don’t care. There are plenty of people in the world, over 6 billion. Me not having children will never harm the human race.

Sometimes you just get lost thinking within the big picture. I know it’s noble to strive for the “greater good” and if I’m such a good person I should be bringing more good people into the world. Yet, there are certain things you must create your own ‘corner of the universe’ for.

Bringing human life onto the planet is done simply and it happens every single day. To nature and to the grander scheme of things, it is no big deal at all. But to me, it’s the scariest thing ever. Something in me writhes in discomfort thinking of a living breathing being packed with half my genetics and blood. I always say I like myself so much, so it’s a contradiction that this thought would bother me. Parents often make the mistake of seeing their children as extensions of themselves, instead of individual people. So hating the idea of making a human from yourself... is that really self-hate? Then I’m always advocating children as separate entities from their parents. So this shouldn’t bother me, but then it does. I make no sense. It’s hard to look at the whole act of a child created as one unbiased completely objective being. I can look at it as a child, which is what I existed as first. Then I can look at it as a parent (potential parent) and it will be entirely different. Although, it shouldn’t be.

It’s always going to be a dualistic display to me. I can never look at it in a complete way.

I have been a child, nature urges me to the other side, where I become the parent now. I can’t ever see the situation as one thing. I feels like I’d be two different people.

Other reasons I don’t want to have children:

-I don’t know if I can honestly make that kind of sacrifice. I want my freedom. I want to be able to do whatever I want without a child needing me all hours of the day.

-It’s expensive

-When kids scream and cry for a stupid reason I just laugh and get childish with them. This is horrible discipline.

-I’m a bit of a hypocrite and there really is nothing more annoying and disheartening in a parent than hypocrisy.

-I don’t want to go through long painful childbirth and wreck my body

Parents (part 2)

parent.

I don’t want to be one.

Here’s another reason why:

I once had a dream, and I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it in here or recounted it in detail.

Maybe I did…actually I think I may have. Anyway, this dream was in two parts, very vivid. I feel in a way I can’t prove that it is truth… like a revelation. When I say it, it feels factual, like something bigger than me, outside me… when I say the words they seem like they are not my words.

The first is in the yard, springtime. There is a swing set and the grass is a vibrant green. There is a young girl standing near but she is unclear in my vision. She walks unsteady even though she is older now. She has long dark hair.

The second dream is much more clear. We are in a restaurant, this child and I, but she is younger. Still the same dark hair. She is 2 maybe 3. I buy her French fries. She uncoordinatedly eats them and hardly can sit in the booth. The booth seats are bright red. A man comes up, he is very obscure because the focus is obviously the girl… She has a look of recognition on her face but there is no affect, not normal emotion anyway.

He is her father.

In just these few seconds I see her in the dream I know she is not normal. I know there is something wrong, but it blends and almost seems to go away if you have enough denial.

In waking, I think this girl has autism and I feel (and you will think it’s silly) that this is the girl I would have if I had a child. She is my daughter, a poor creature that can’t function normally. It makes me reflect on other parents in the world who actually have autistic children. They love them just as much as any other parent loves their child. And I would love her too, just like that. But how much of it is because we have to. Because you’d look like a monster of a human being if you didn’t. We all want to think what we create is perfect or at least really great, especially when what we’ve created is a human being. We want to believe there is nothing horrid lying dormant in our bodies that manifests as a child— like bad genes, homosexuality, whatever makes a serial killer, ugliness, etc. etc. (although I have no problem with homosexuality at all… some folks do).

Is it better me knowing now what she would be and then preventing it by not having a child? Is that like killing her? I’m no clairvoyant and I don’t believe in psychics. But I can’t lie to myself about what I feel sometimes. It always comes true. Perhaps I have some advanced element of my brain that makes really damn good guesses about the future…like excellent intuition. I lean on intuition a lot. I don’t know what this feeling is exactly. But I never disregard it. Sure I question some of the things it presents to me, I give it time to stew. I try to prove it wrong. But you can never know for sure, not until whatever it is has already happened.

I’ve thought a lot about the Duggars because they have 19 children and probably will go on to have more until Michelle finally hits menopause. There are a lot of strong opinions I hold about their situation, all of which are complicated because I actually like the Duggars on a human level. They seem nice and well-intentioned people… but ultimately I disagree with what they do because it is a misguided effort at easing guilt.

Let me explain:

They live by the principle that God should dictate creation of life in every minute way. Their sex will never be protected or hindered. Abstinence is not even an option; they will have sex when they feel like it because it is a gift of God to marriage. If she gets pregnant, than it is entirely God’s will. Whatever happens, it’s all part of a larger plan that’s better than anything they could come up with. How many children they have should not be up to them. If that means 25, then it means 25. God won’t give them more than they can handle. (But I guarantee without TLC and TV money and the public interest they would NOT be able to handle it alone).

Anyway, they feel fertility and conception are sacred, all life is absolutely sacred and should not be tampered with in any way. It’s an insult to God to abort a baby, and it is just as much of one to prevent a baby from happening in the first place. It’s like stepping in the way of God about to create a life and saying, “No, God you can’t do that.”

I agree with the “life is sacred” part but not to the point of preventing a baby. I honestly cannot and never will accept that abstinence is bad. It’s like that “every sperm is sacred” silliness from Monty Python’s Meaning of Life.

The Duggars follow this “quiver-full” movement where parents are belligerently psychotic over babies and new life. They are the extreme end of conservative pro-life. Just in case you didn’t know, a quiver is the sack you put arrows in if you’re an archer. And the reference is, of course, to a verse in the Old Testament of the Bible:

Psalm 127: 3-5

“Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.”

They take this verse quite literally. I get all this big family happiness and never being lonely. That’s a nice thought. But it’s just not practical anymore to go doing this sort of thing. The Duggars would never believe what they are doing is wrong; it’s right there in Bible verse! And, really, I woudln’t even call it “wrong” myself, but rather misguided. It is a vast overcompensation for something else.

And what is that “something else?”

The first child the Duggars ever had they tried to prevent. Yes, even them. All that vehement defense of life came from somewhere. When they were first married, Michelle used birth control. Not long into the marriage she became pregnant anyway, but did not realize it for awhile. Thus, the first few months that baby developed she still took the pill. She carried almost full term but the baby died before it was born, a stillbirth. Of course, they were devestated and when they learned that the birth control was what killed her, the immense guilt set in and tortured their conscience. From then on, Michelle and Jim Bob never used any kind of contraceptive ever again and all their kids have been healthy since, and there has been an endless string of babies coming from that woman like a long train crossing the road. We all sit and wait, peering off into the distance to see if the end is close but there’s always more, more, more.

They believe their first daughter died as a sort of punishment or ultimate consequence for what happens when someone tries to stop God. They entirely believe it is their fault (but how could they know?)

They blame themselves for that. I can’t imagine a worse feeling for a Christian person than to feel like you killed your own child, even if it wasn’t intentional.

Making all these damn near 20 kids is like making up for that first baby, saying over and over again, “God we are sorry. Please forgive our disobedience. Use us as much as you want to bring people into the world.”

They will never see what they’ve been doing as a simple fact of biology: If two fertile things come together they will reproduce. If the opportunity presents itself and it is feasible then it will happen. They honestly believe God intends them to have this many kids, as do all Christian couples who follow this quiverfull movement.

But I ask them, please:

Show me a healthy couple doing this who has only, say 2-3 kids. Even though they have as much sex as any other couple. Let me see God’s will be anything but a very large number of children.

The Duggars confess that their lifestyle is “not for everyone” but they live by a principal that suggests that it is, in fact, mandated by God to every single person.

There are no couples living under this priniciple who still only have 2-3 kids (except the ones who only been married 2 years and they’ve only had time enough to make 2-3 kids). And a birth of multiples does not count.

It simply doesn’t ever happen. That family does not exist.

I don’t believe God controls how many kids you’re supposed to have. Biology does. But we always have a choice to interfere and there is no immorality in that.

If their principle were really true, they are inherently saying that anyone using contraceptives or abstinence inside a marriage is sinning. Anyone choosing the size of their family, anyone trying to make a responsible choice is the real misguided person and is not listening to God’s will. The Duggar’s motive seems to be guilt and I realize this is not the case for every couple involved in the Quiverfull movement. I’m not sure what their motives are, but they’re probably too personal to fit any real ethical reason either.

I have no problem with people having lots of children, as long as it truly is suitable to their particular lifestyle and personalities. If it honestly makes them happy then ok. But the world is quite populated already. There’s no danger of humans dying out anytime soon. It’s expensive anymore to have a child, all the healthcare and schooling. There aren’t many farms anymore where it’s a dire and desperate need to make a lot of children so they can grow up to be farmhands. Yes, farms still exist, I know, but their prevalance has dropped. It’s not the #1 way of life anymore.

There’s nothing wrong with guilt either. It’s another entirely normal human emotion. They’re not wrong for feeling this way. But they can’t use religion like a band-aid, seeking out relief in some grand gesture that other people will follow. They are proud of themselves now.

I am truly sorry for them in that they feel this bad about their first daughter, that it requires that much compnesation. But if they are crushed under the weight of all those humans they’re ushering into existense… well my pity ends there.