(was looking for a post and saw that this was still a draft…not sure why I never posted it so I will now It is from October of 2012.)
The other day I had a few moments between errands and I stopped off at the local Goodwill Bookstore for a peruse. I know that this is not an easy task with a two year old, especially if I actually want to leave with decent read, but I had the urge to find something new to read. After 10 minutes of hearing my son on the other aisle pulling down books from the shelf and asking random customers “what this is?”, I just selected 3 books laid them on the check-out counter and chased my son through the back stockroom of the store. Some days I seriously doubt my sanity will last till this one makes it into adulthood.
That leads me into one of the lucky frantically chosen books. I love the Goodwill on all levels. It satisfies my need to do good for the environment and up-cycle goods plus I get 3 new books for only 8 bucks…you can’t beat that. Well, you can’t beat it until I get one of those on my street that I have seen popping up in Memphis. I may just have to add another project to my I’m-not-procrastinating list.
One of my books I bought was Dreams: Your Magic Mirror by Elsie Sechrist. I have been mulling over for the past few weeks what I want to be when I grow up, still. I will turn 30 in a matter of a few days and my Saturn return has been a doozy. At the beginning of my 28th year I was struck with an illness that forced me to choose between my job and my health. I reluctantly chose my health. See, I took the safe route and received a degree in Business and Communication (Public Relations) instead of pursuing my dreams to become an artist and researcher.
I of course over thought the whole situation as I normally do. I wanted to prove myself to my family and I suspected a business degree over an art degree would duly impress. It has not. I have now only run into the fact that I have the talent and urge to be an artist with no degree in a society that clings to higher education over talent as a value meter.
Or so I think anyways. I think that I think too much. Actually, I know that I think too much, but I color my comments so as to trick myself into believing that I just think that I think too much and don’t really know for certain that I think too much. See, told you I even go as far as to come to conclusions for other people all the time. Boy can other people come up with the rudest of comments in my conversations. They are the evil doers and I am the old wise one with the great one-liners. This is why I never attend social events. Why would I, I have all that at home without the fear of looking like a foolish ass in front of everyone. Of course I know that this is illogical, but I can be very convincing otherwise, and I only came to the above conclusion after reading about toilets in my new book.
See, I am still learning from those odd moments. Apparently when toilets or commodes come up in your dreams they represent cleansing of bad habits is needed. I have been writing my dreams down for three days now after beginning this book. These are long elaborate dreams that I have that I hope to gain insight from about my life, and all the time I ignored the toilet scenes and left them out. Even in my recall I was avoiding my problems. That is until I hit that part in my book about the toilet dream. It was like my mind instantly recalled every toilet dream I had had for the last six months, which turned out to be quite a lot. I have been dreaming about needing to pee and something being totally wrong about every toilet that I encountered…dirty toilets, blocked toilets, broken toilets, exposed toilets…you name it I have dreamt it. The toilets got their very own page dedicated to them in my dream journal. My higher self has been trying to tell me for quite some time that my problem was in my face all along and I was avoiding it at every turn. My thought patterns have got to change.
So, this morning after my epiphany I pulled out The Cognitive Behavioral Workbook for Anxiety by Dr. William Knaus that I stashed away long ago to forget that I had convinced myself that I was not the problem and that it was just everyone else making my days unbearable. I was recommended the book and knew I needed to deal with the way that I look at the world, but I guess it takes the motivation of needing to pee real bad and not getting the satisfaction of a nice warm toilet seat.
I am off to work toward the day when I can say I finally peed in my dreams.
I will leave you with this quote of the day I saw while checking my proper use of doozy:
“A mind that questions everything, unless strong enough to bear the weight of its ignorance, risks questioning itself and being engulfed in doubt. If it cannot discover the claims to existence of the objects of its questioning—and it would be miraculous if it so soon succeeded in solving so many mysteries—it will deny them all reality, the mere formulation of the problem already implying an inclination to negative solutions. But in so doing it will become void of all positive content and, finding nothing which offers it resistance, will launch itself perforce into the emptiness of inner revery.”