Too tired to write... in... sentences...
1) Moved out of house to escape sewage leak and into a Super 8
2) Accomplished above at 10 PM with four animals
3) And with tons of GF frozen food and leftovers
4) Which ran out after 3 days and required me to eat steadily stranger things and rely almost entirely on a loaf of GF bread and lunchmeat from Walmart
5) Checked house every day to drop off laundry and were subjected to the horrible smell increasing until the cleanup people got there finally
6) Watched my fiance come down with horrible flu-like withdrawal symptoms from getting off of his anti-depressant too quickly
7) Nursed fiance back to health over three days while taking care of 4 animals in a hotel, one of which is a dachshund having serious back problems that require extra work
8) Drove to Walmart for emergency supplies and to the house for similar
9) Accomplished the above without crashing into anything despite sleep attacks and being exhausted, not having driven at all in months
10) Moved everyone and everything back into the still slightly off-smelling house to get away from the hotel
11) Had disappointing therapy appointment over the phone
12) Did three loads of laundry and washed giant pile of dishes (using water boiled on the stove because the water heater is still off)
13) Hoping we don't have to move out again while they bleach the basement
14) Called Mom to vent about above and started crying because it's just that insane
15) Now only awake because of blasting Britney Spears
Friday, April 15, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Grandparents' Glass Maze House
Last night, I was visiting my grandparents at their house in small town Texas. In real life, they have a back room that they basically use to store stuff and when I was little it kind of creeped me out back there. So, of course, for as long as I've been having nightmares, some of them have taken place in there.
In the dream I was having seriously crazy drama with my cousins for awhile when we finally decided to go back into that room. It was dark and we were enjoying creeping each other out. Each time we found a new doorway, we would go through to see what was there. At first, the rooms looked like the rest of the house and formed hallways in an almost maze-like fashion, but then we passed this huge floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on a small courtyard. There was furniture piled outside in the rain with grass growing all around it.
Of course, I was like, "we should go try to get in there!" because my fiance an I have been talking about needing a couch for some time, lol. So then my cousin spots a door leading out there, but it's coming from a different direction, so we start heading that way to see if we can find it.
We emerge from the dark, cramped hallway of dark wood and wallpaper into this giant ballroom with walls and ceiling made out of glass. Looking through the walls, we see other glass rooms receding into the distance in every direction, most of them piled up with old furniture or figurines on shelves. There's a lot of stuff but it's pretty spread out between the rooms, leaving lots of empty floorspace. We spread out individually to see what's around, and I spot the door into the courtyard off to my right. I start heading over there, but I run smack into a glass wall because I'm so focused on what's behind it that I don't see it in time, which makes everybody (including me) laugh.
I look around and find the way around the wall, which happens to be a wheelchair ramp with old hotel brass railings and ugly red patterned carpet. So I run up it and around the wall and reach the glass door.
I look outside and see the courtyard more clearly. Against the wall to my left is the furniture and the small grassy space is otherwise overgrown. The blue couch I was so excited about has a big hole in it and is next to this hilariously 70s chair with a giant light blue and puke orange plaid pattern on it. My cousins have come over and we're laughing at how ugly the chair is.
Suddenly I hear barking and realize that there are three boxers (all of them brown and white) in the yard, two of them chained up next to the door and the third roaming free. My cousin opens the door and starts to step outside and the dogs go nuts. Just then, my grandmother finds us, telling us off for going so far back into the house. She goes out and gives the dogs chunks of steak to quiet them down.
And then I woke up, still wondering if that couch can be repaired.
In the dream I was having seriously crazy drama with my cousins for awhile when we finally decided to go back into that room. It was dark and we were enjoying creeping each other out. Each time we found a new doorway, we would go through to see what was there. At first, the rooms looked like the rest of the house and formed hallways in an almost maze-like fashion, but then we passed this huge floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on a small courtyard. There was furniture piled outside in the rain with grass growing all around it.
Of course, I was like, "we should go try to get in there!" because my fiance an I have been talking about needing a couch for some time, lol. So then my cousin spots a door leading out there, but it's coming from a different direction, so we start heading that way to see if we can find it.
We emerge from the dark, cramped hallway of dark wood and wallpaper into this giant ballroom with walls and ceiling made out of glass. Looking through the walls, we see other glass rooms receding into the distance in every direction, most of them piled up with old furniture or figurines on shelves. There's a lot of stuff but it's pretty spread out between the rooms, leaving lots of empty floorspace. We spread out individually to see what's around, and I spot the door into the courtyard off to my right. I start heading over there, but I run smack into a glass wall because I'm so focused on what's behind it that I don't see it in time, which makes everybody (including me) laugh.
I look around and find the way around the wall, which happens to be a wheelchair ramp with old hotel brass railings and ugly red patterned carpet. So I run up it and around the wall and reach the glass door.
I look outside and see the courtyard more clearly. Against the wall to my left is the furniture and the small grassy space is otherwise overgrown. The blue couch I was so excited about has a big hole in it and is next to this hilariously 70s chair with a giant light blue and puke orange plaid pattern on it. My cousins have come over and we're laughing at how ugly the chair is.
Suddenly I hear barking and realize that there are three boxers (all of them brown and white) in the yard, two of them chained up next to the door and the third roaming free. My cousin opens the door and starts to step outside and the dogs go nuts. Just then, my grandmother finds us, telling us off for going so far back into the house. She goes out and gives the dogs chunks of steak to quiet them down.
And then I woke up, still wondering if that couch can be repaired.
Monday, April 11, 2011
This Ill Feeling Is No Longer Mysterious
As I may have mentioned earlier, my fiance and I have been renting a small house in small town Iowa where my fiance is working. When we first moved into this old little house, we had all sorts of problems. It wasn't too surprising, as the place had been vacant for over a year when we moved in. First, there was the plumbing, which took awhile to get fully functional. Then we had to get the water heater fixed, then before winter set in, the furnace needed help. And after that, miraculously, everything worked for several whole months!
Well, then I kept catching what seemed to be random colds. I was sick with three seemingly different things (complete with their own distinct symptoms) one after another and was totally blaming it on the weather. I mean, the Midwest is famous for immune system-wrenching spikes and drops in temperature this time of year, plus there's allergies to take into account. So I figured (especially as this spring is my first living in this area) that I was just allergic to something.
Then J, my fiance, started getting headaches and feeling crappy. He has an extremely sensitive sense of smell and was complaining that the house smelled funny a couple of days ago. I noticed it a little bit, too. This weekend we got back from a field trip to Sioux Falls (our nearest source of sushi and many other delicious GF things), having been gone all day, to discover our hot water wasn't working. It would flow, but it was cold.
Last time we had this problem, the pilot light on the water heater had gone out. So we go down to the basement to check it and--
We find that our basement is flooded with foul-smelling, tepid water. As in sewage. o.O It was six inches deep, and high enough to have triggered the water heater to shut itself off. Thoroughly grossed out, we had to decide what to do. At J's dad's urging (he works on houses) we decided to take all six of us (two humans, two cats and two dogs) to the nearest motel for a couple of days while our landlord sorts it out.
We called around and found somewhere that would take all of us in last night, and we are so glad we did. J's dad told us that if you can smell it at all, the gases can be making you sick, and I'm now sure that they were. I'm really glad that we're now all out of danger. I already feel so much better after a night of fresh air. I think it was affecting me a lot more than I realized, however faint the strange smell had seemed.
We stopped in to grab a couple of things we forgot in our haste to leave last night, and I ran in to the house myself for about two minutes. That was enough to make me feel sick again until I had been breathing fresh air for awhile. I'm not going back in there at all until the sewage is gone and the basement is bleached.
Well, we'd been saying we needed a vacation, right? XD Not quite what we had in mind...
Well, then I kept catching what seemed to be random colds. I was sick with three seemingly different things (complete with their own distinct symptoms) one after another and was totally blaming it on the weather. I mean, the Midwest is famous for immune system-wrenching spikes and drops in temperature this time of year, plus there's allergies to take into account. So I figured (especially as this spring is my first living in this area) that I was just allergic to something.
Then J, my fiance, started getting headaches and feeling crappy. He has an extremely sensitive sense of smell and was complaining that the house smelled funny a couple of days ago. I noticed it a little bit, too. This weekend we got back from a field trip to Sioux Falls (our nearest source of sushi and many other delicious GF things), having been gone all day, to discover our hot water wasn't working. It would flow, but it was cold.
Last time we had this problem, the pilot light on the water heater had gone out. So we go down to the basement to check it and--
We find that our basement is flooded with foul-smelling, tepid water. As in sewage. o.O It was six inches deep, and high enough to have triggered the water heater to shut itself off. Thoroughly grossed out, we had to decide what to do. At J's dad's urging (he works on houses) we decided to take all six of us (two humans, two cats and two dogs) to the nearest motel for a couple of days while our landlord sorts it out.
We called around and found somewhere that would take all of us in last night, and we are so glad we did. J's dad told us that if you can smell it at all, the gases can be making you sick, and I'm now sure that they were. I'm really glad that we're now all out of danger. I already feel so much better after a night of fresh air. I think it was affecting me a lot more than I realized, however faint the strange smell had seemed.
We stopped in to grab a couple of things we forgot in our haste to leave last night, and I ran in to the house myself for about two minutes. That was enough to make me feel sick again until I had been breathing fresh air for awhile. I'm not going back in there at all until the sewage is gone and the basement is bleached.
Well, we'd been saying we needed a vacation, right? XD Not quite what we had in mind...
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I Must Be Insane
Oh Wait! I AM!
Well, I've been thinking a lot about this idea for over a year. It may be some crazy dream that won't happen, or else maybe I can end up contributing to the world, I don't know. I don't pretend that this is going to necessarily work out. But it's something I feel that I have to do.
I'm tired of going into the health section of bookstores and finding nothing about Narcolepsy or what it's like to experience this illness. I'm tired of keeping my feelings and thoughts in a small corner of the internet where only a small audience can find them, afraid to give this link to too many people I actually know. I'm also tired of "not contributing financially" to my family and getting crap for it. And so, for better or worse, I'm going to attempt something outrageous. I'm going to write a book.
I'm under no illusions about instant fame (HA) or even my slim chances of ever finding someone to publish such a thing. I make no promises, except that I'm going to write this thing and if no one else will have it, at the very least I can put it online somewhere and link you, my mysteriously interested small audience.
I have hope that I can get something interesting down because this has been stewing in the back of my mind for a year, and suddenly it's taken a sort of feverish hold on me. So there it is: my new project. A book about Narcolepsy.
Who the heck knows why my brain has grabbed onto this. All I know is that I know better than to ask. I'll just go with it, and see what happens.
Well, I've been thinking a lot about this idea for over a year. It may be some crazy dream that won't happen, or else maybe I can end up contributing to the world, I don't know. I don't pretend that this is going to necessarily work out. But it's something I feel that I have to do.
I'm tired of going into the health section of bookstores and finding nothing about Narcolepsy or what it's like to experience this illness. I'm tired of keeping my feelings and thoughts in a small corner of the internet where only a small audience can find them, afraid to give this link to too many people I actually know. I'm also tired of "not contributing financially" to my family and getting crap for it. And so, for better or worse, I'm going to attempt something outrageous. I'm going to write a book.
I'm under no illusions about instant fame (HA) or even my slim chances of ever finding someone to publish such a thing. I make no promises, except that I'm going to write this thing and if no one else will have it, at the very least I can put it online somewhere and link you, my mysteriously interested small audience.
I have hope that I can get something interesting down because this has been stewing in the back of my mind for a year, and suddenly it's taken a sort of feverish hold on me. So there it is: my new project. A book about Narcolepsy.
Who the heck knows why my brain has grabbed onto this. All I know is that I know better than to ask. I'll just go with it, and see what happens.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Gender Therapist Adventure
A couple of entries ago, I explained how my girlfriend discovered the root cause of her depression problems (being trans) and will now be referred to using male pronouns or the initial J. Well, we've talked about it a lot, thought a lot, discussed and considered what to do about it. The whole time, he's been experimenting with wearing male clothing when not at work and so far seems to be doing a lot better. We decided, having read a lot of advice online, that maybe we should look for a gender therapist.
Various trans-oriented resource sites stress the importance of getting a therapist who specifically specializes in gender issues. Apparently, if you get one who doesn't, they're a lot less likely to understand your life issues if you're a transperson. Depression and body issues for transpeople are very different than most therapists are trained to deal with. So after finding this type of advice all over the internet, we decided that if we wanted to work on J's depression with professional help, a gender therapist was the way to go.
So we searched and (unsurprisingly) found that there aren't any in Iowa and the closest one that looked promising is in the Twin Cities, three and a half hours away. And so we made an appointment two weeks ago, J took off work, and we figured that even if it was a disaster or unhelpful, at least we would be near the closest Whole Foods for an afternoon. Yesterday arrived and we threw the dogs in the car in the morning, made sure our cats had extra food, grabbed some Larabars and started driving.
The weather was pretty terrible. It was windy and snow-raining and foggy and the roads were really wet. As we got farther north, the mix turned into snow, which started to show up piled everywhere. Our appointment had been rescheduled for later in the day, 3 PM, and we were glad because it took awhile to get there and the roads in St. Paul were pretty bad. To top it off, we kept getting lost because our maps weren't as helpful as we had hoped. We ate at Whole Foods (sushi!) and rushed through the store to pick up a few things (gluten-free PIE!), running out of time.
We got lost again between Whole Foods and the therapist's office, but we made it there at exactly 3. We rushed upstairs. The office was dark- not a good sign. It was only then when we looked at our messages that we found out that the therapist had called us hours before to tell us she couldn't make it. She was snowed in at her house. We were both pretty frustrated and annoyed. I mean, if we could make it to her office from three hours away and navigate the snowy streets in my dinky little Saturn (which doesn't even have anti-lock brakes), surely she could get there that late in the day from half an hour away.
So we left her a message back and headed back to my car, feeling disappointed. J is probably going to have job interviews that will require him to take days off soon, so we can't really do it again. This therapist won't take appointments at all on the weekend, and we don't really want drive that far again anyway, especially when she already didn't show up once. To console ourselves, we backtracked to a Borders we saw while we were lost, which was plastered with Store Closing sale signs, and went on a cheap book spree. Then the dogs were looking bored, so we took them to a Petsmart and they thought that was pretty interesting. We were feeling like at least the trip hadn't been a total waste.
We had picked up a few fliers in the dark and empty (but mysteriously unlocked) therapist's office. One of them was advertising a trans support group that happened to be meeting on Wednesday evenings. We decided to go, since we had nothing to lose. I mean, our main objective in going to the therapist was to talk to somebody about this. Someone who knew about it, understood, and that was detached from our family, and might know more about it than we do now. We figured we should at least try it out.
After getting lost two more times, getting stuck in the snow and having my narcoleptic self at the wheel while we extracted our car, which resulted in me driving in deep and slushy snow for a few blocks around lots of stuck parked cars, we found the right building. There were only two other people there- apparently a slow night- but they were very friendly and sympathetic. We felt so much better after talking to them for awhile and we got tons of really good information. The best thing about it was just feeling less alone. Being trans and dealing with trans problems is so incredibly isolating. Even when people are supportive, they can't quite understand if they're too far removed from these experiences, and most of the people we know we're a bit afraid to tell because we don't know how they will react. We walked out of there feeling so much better, with lots of fliers and resources and access to an entire community of people in The Cities, and even a binder to try out. My fiance had the biggest smile on his face all the way home.
Night fell as we found our way back to 35. The drive home was long, but we spent the whole way talking and singing and laughing, with our dogs asleep in the back.
Various trans-oriented resource sites stress the importance of getting a therapist who specifically specializes in gender issues. Apparently, if you get one who doesn't, they're a lot less likely to understand your life issues if you're a transperson. Depression and body issues for transpeople are very different than most therapists are trained to deal with. So after finding this type of advice all over the internet, we decided that if we wanted to work on J's depression with professional help, a gender therapist was the way to go.
So we searched and (unsurprisingly) found that there aren't any in Iowa and the closest one that looked promising is in the Twin Cities, three and a half hours away. And so we made an appointment two weeks ago, J took off work, and we figured that even if it was a disaster or unhelpful, at least we would be near the closest Whole Foods for an afternoon. Yesterday arrived and we threw the dogs in the car in the morning, made sure our cats had extra food, grabbed some Larabars and started driving.
The weather was pretty terrible. It was windy and snow-raining and foggy and the roads were really wet. As we got farther north, the mix turned into snow, which started to show up piled everywhere. Our appointment had been rescheduled for later in the day, 3 PM, and we were glad because it took awhile to get there and the roads in St. Paul were pretty bad. To top it off, we kept getting lost because our maps weren't as helpful as we had hoped. We ate at Whole Foods (sushi!) and rushed through the store to pick up a few things (gluten-free PIE!), running out of time.
We got lost again between Whole Foods and the therapist's office, but we made it there at exactly 3. We rushed upstairs. The office was dark- not a good sign. It was only then when we looked at our messages that we found out that the therapist had called us hours before to tell us she couldn't make it. She was snowed in at her house. We were both pretty frustrated and annoyed. I mean, if we could make it to her office from three hours away and navigate the snowy streets in my dinky little Saturn (which doesn't even have anti-lock brakes), surely she could get there that late in the day from half an hour away.
So we left her a message back and headed back to my car, feeling disappointed. J is probably going to have job interviews that will require him to take days off soon, so we can't really do it again. This therapist won't take appointments at all on the weekend, and we don't really want drive that far again anyway, especially when she already didn't show up once. To console ourselves, we backtracked to a Borders we saw while we were lost, which was plastered with Store Closing sale signs, and went on a cheap book spree. Then the dogs were looking bored, so we took them to a Petsmart and they thought that was pretty interesting. We were feeling like at least the trip hadn't been a total waste.
We had picked up a few fliers in the dark and empty (but mysteriously unlocked) therapist's office. One of them was advertising a trans support group that happened to be meeting on Wednesday evenings. We decided to go, since we had nothing to lose. I mean, our main objective in going to the therapist was to talk to somebody about this. Someone who knew about it, understood, and that was detached from our family, and might know more about it than we do now. We figured we should at least try it out.
After getting lost two more times, getting stuck in the snow and having my narcoleptic self at the wheel while we extracted our car, which resulted in me driving in deep and slushy snow for a few blocks around lots of stuck parked cars, we found the right building. There were only two other people there- apparently a slow night- but they were very friendly and sympathetic. We felt so much better after talking to them for awhile and we got tons of really good information. The best thing about it was just feeling less alone. Being trans and dealing with trans problems is so incredibly isolating. Even when people are supportive, they can't quite understand if they're too far removed from these experiences, and most of the people we know we're a bit afraid to tell because we don't know how they will react. We walked out of there feeling so much better, with lots of fliers and resources and access to an entire community of people in The Cities, and even a binder to try out. My fiance had the biggest smile on his face all the way home.
Night fell as we found our way back to 35. The drive home was long, but we spent the whole way talking and singing and laughing, with our dogs asleep in the back.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Bring On the Ice Cream
Okay, so I know there's some pretty weird stuff I've been blogging about lately, related to narcolepsy and not. But this latest suspicion of mine really takes the (GF and soy-free) cake.
So we all grew up knowing two things about ice cream: it's delicious, and it's bad for you. I mean, frozen cream with massive amounts of sugar in it seems to be, according to common sense, bad for you, right? I mean, it's basically sugary fat. Can you get more unhealthy, really? Or so I thought...
For four years or so I was quite underweight, thanks to Xyrem and a complete lack of interest in cooking (a killer when you're on a special diet). My lowest weight was 92 lbs, and though I am a small person, I was around 20 lbs too light. I could feel it. My bones were sticking out and I was cold all the time because I had no fat whatsoever. I felt physically weak. I had a hard time finding small enough bras for awhile, and I was wearing size 0 jeans (which were a little loose). Many people say they'd kill for that, but I felt horrible. I felt so unhealthy. I had no energy, which, when you already have narcolepsy to contend with, basically made life impossible. I felt like one of those skeletons that show up all the time in my dreams, crumpled up on the couch.
Finally I had a falling out with my neurologist because I was sick of being a stick figure, and the Xyrem had mostly stopped getting me sleep anyway. So I stopped taking it and slowly started to recover the weight I needed. I immediately felt better, learned how to cook (what a difference an appetite makes), and started eating a ton of really healthy, homemade food every day. I'm sure the story would have been different if I'd started eating junk food or even GF frozen dinners like I had before, but on all the veggies I gained weight back slowly and flesh started showing up in areas where it was needed. A year later, you couldn't see my hip bones anymore and I actually had curves again. Soon after, I leveled out at around 107 lbs and felt so much healthier and stronger. Even so, I felt cold a lot of the time and like I needed a little bit more meat on my bones. I mean, winter in Iowa really kind of requires extra padding.
Around that time I started noticing how often I was craving cheese. I've always really liked cheese, but I had started putting it on everything. My fiance didn't mind; he loves cheese too, the more the better. Since our diet contains mostly vegetables, fruit and occasionally fish or chicken, I kind of figured I was craving dairy since it's got a lot of protein in it. I didn't worry too much about it and kept piling on the cheese. And then I started craving cheese and ice cream. I hadn't had ice cream in over a year; I tend to avoid sugar products because once you stop eating them, small amounts make you anxious and kind of crazy. But this craving was pretty over the top. So I got a little carton of Haagen-Dazs to see how it went. I like that brand because it's pure ice cream, none of this modified-food-starch-whatever-chemicals nonsense, and you can tell because it tastes insanely good, like real food. Plus a lot of the flavors are gluten-free, and actually gluten-free- no contamination at all. The same goes for soy. Some flavors have it, but only where necessary, and as long as I read to label I haven't had a problem.
So I thought, okay, it's just for a treat this week. But the craving kept up, and suddenly I was gaining weight again. I went from 107 to 113 in a week and the only difference was the ice cream. Alarmed, I stopped buying it. I've heard it's easy to get overweight if you have narcolepsy, so I'm wary. After a week without any in the freezer, I dropped back down to 107, and realized I was suddenly cold all the time again. Okay... was my body telling me that ice cream is good for it? That it needed ice cream to round out my healthy diet? o.O To have enough body heat?
So this turns my idea of health food upside own. I find myself thinking, maybe it isn't that some foods are always bad or always good for you. Maybe being healthy is about paying attention to what your particular body needs, watching how you feel. Maybe it isn't all so clear-cut. The rest of life isn't, so why would food be? Our bodies are amazing, beautifully constructed, and complex. Maybe you can't just rely on other people's advice, even that of the experts. Maybe you have to listen. The more I listen to my body, the more interesting things I discover.
I don't know what's weirder- my body legitimately needing ice cream to maintain the proper weight or the irony of something cold ultimately making me warmer. Now I keep some in the freezer all the time and pay attention to my intuition. If my body says it wants ice cream, I eat some and feel better. If I feel I don't need it then I avoid it. Now that the weather is slowly warming up I've been needing it less. I don't have to think it through. I just have to pay attention.
So we all grew up knowing two things about ice cream: it's delicious, and it's bad for you. I mean, frozen cream with massive amounts of sugar in it seems to be, according to common sense, bad for you, right? I mean, it's basically sugary fat. Can you get more unhealthy, really? Or so I thought...
For four years or so I was quite underweight, thanks to Xyrem and a complete lack of interest in cooking (a killer when you're on a special diet). My lowest weight was 92 lbs, and though I am a small person, I was around 20 lbs too light. I could feel it. My bones were sticking out and I was cold all the time because I had no fat whatsoever. I felt physically weak. I had a hard time finding small enough bras for awhile, and I was wearing size 0 jeans (which were a little loose). Many people say they'd kill for that, but I felt horrible. I felt so unhealthy. I had no energy, which, when you already have narcolepsy to contend with, basically made life impossible. I felt like one of those skeletons that show up all the time in my dreams, crumpled up on the couch.
Finally I had a falling out with my neurologist because I was sick of being a stick figure, and the Xyrem had mostly stopped getting me sleep anyway. So I stopped taking it and slowly started to recover the weight I needed. I immediately felt better, learned how to cook (what a difference an appetite makes), and started eating a ton of really healthy, homemade food every day. I'm sure the story would have been different if I'd started eating junk food or even GF frozen dinners like I had before, but on all the veggies I gained weight back slowly and flesh started showing up in areas where it was needed. A year later, you couldn't see my hip bones anymore and I actually had curves again. Soon after, I leveled out at around 107 lbs and felt so much healthier and stronger. Even so, I felt cold a lot of the time and like I needed a little bit more meat on my bones. I mean, winter in Iowa really kind of requires extra padding.
Around that time I started noticing how often I was craving cheese. I've always really liked cheese, but I had started putting it on everything. My fiance didn't mind; he loves cheese too, the more the better. Since our diet contains mostly vegetables, fruit and occasionally fish or chicken, I kind of figured I was craving dairy since it's got a lot of protein in it. I didn't worry too much about it and kept piling on the cheese. And then I started craving cheese and ice cream. I hadn't had ice cream in over a year; I tend to avoid sugar products because once you stop eating them, small amounts make you anxious and kind of crazy. But this craving was pretty over the top. So I got a little carton of Haagen-Dazs to see how it went. I like that brand because it's pure ice cream, none of this modified-food-starch-whatever-chemicals nonsense, and you can tell because it tastes insanely good, like real food. Plus a lot of the flavors are gluten-free, and actually gluten-free- no contamination at all. The same goes for soy. Some flavors have it, but only where necessary, and as long as I read to label I haven't had a problem.
So I thought, okay, it's just for a treat this week. But the craving kept up, and suddenly I was gaining weight again. I went from 107 to 113 in a week and the only difference was the ice cream. Alarmed, I stopped buying it. I've heard it's easy to get overweight if you have narcolepsy, so I'm wary. After a week without any in the freezer, I dropped back down to 107, and realized I was suddenly cold all the time again. Okay... was my body telling me that ice cream is good for it? That it needed ice cream to round out my healthy diet? o.O To have enough body heat?
So this turns my idea of health food upside own. I find myself thinking, maybe it isn't that some foods are always bad or always good for you. Maybe being healthy is about paying attention to what your particular body needs, watching how you feel. Maybe it isn't all so clear-cut. The rest of life isn't, so why would food be? Our bodies are amazing, beautifully constructed, and complex. Maybe you can't just rely on other people's advice, even that of the experts. Maybe you have to listen. The more I listen to my body, the more interesting things I discover.
I don't know what's weirder- my body legitimately needing ice cream to maintain the proper weight or the irony of something cold ultimately making me warmer. Now I keep some in the freezer all the time and pay attention to my intuition. If my body says it wants ice cream, I eat some and feel better. If I feel I don't need it then I avoid it. Now that the weather is slowly warming up I've been needing it less. I don't have to think it through. I just have to pay attention.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
TRANSformation
I stopped writing, not because there hasn't been lot on my mind or because narcolepsy is leaving me alone, but rather because there's been a shift of my priorities for the last month or so. There's nothing like someone you love going through a lot to take you away from thinking about your own problems.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned on here that my girlfriend, who I'm going to refer to as J, has had depression problems for most of her life. Since I moved in with her a year ago I've been working on helping her figure out the root causes of it, since I've also had it most of my life and have found my own fairly effective ways of dealing with it. Basically I'm there for her to talk to about anything, and I bother J to talk and write through things she's feeling. So far it's seemed to open up a new world of thinking about herself for her and she's discovered many things about her identity since we started. The latest of these discoveries surprised us both and turned our mental worlds upside down, while at the same time not changing a single thing about J or our relationship.
It started a month ago when we had been talking about sexuality. It's a weird issue for both of us. On the surface we are defined as a lesbian couple, but neither of us feels comfortable calling us that. Our gender roles are very clear-cut- she brings home the bacon and I cook and clean. It's almost maniacally traditional, which seems weird because neither of us have very traditional value systems. We had been talking about it on the weekend, and then J took our big dog for a walk, and when she came back she had this sort of shell-shocked expression on her face. When I asked her what it was, she said simply, "I think... I'm a dude."
We stood there and looked at each other. I felt like I was seeing her for the first time as a whole cascade of ideas fell into place. The transformation in my head went something like this:
OH!!!
unfounded depression --> gender dysphoria
gay couple --> straight couple
masculine "quirks" --> male personality
weird about clothing --> accidentally cross-dressing
girlyness --> overcompensating
bisexual --> wants to have male body + is straight
uncomfortable at work --> forced to playact being a woman
hates her body for some unknown reason --> IN THE WRONG BODY
Does this change how I feel about her? --> NO.
And then I really looked at her face, imagined her with short hair and told her I thought that she could pass as male if she wanted to. And started laughing and gave her a hug. I was/am so proud of her for figuring out the missing piece. She says that the realization for her came with a massive sense of relief.
We were both brain-crashed for the next week processing this. It wasn't that anything was different between us, or even about J. We just kept thinking of more ways in which it explains everything that either of us have been wondering about her. We're still coming up with things and it's been a month.
We found a great transsexual resources forum, Laura's Playground, and it's been a really good source of information since neither of us knew much about being trans before this. We decided to go look for clothes and got a bunch of things from the men's department for J. I've gone shopping with her for women's clothing a lot, and she was always dissatisfied while trying things on. She might find one thing that she could stand (and that fit well) out of ten things. The first time J tried on a guy's flannel shirt, she was smiling, it fit her, and it seemed essentially her somehow. I also cut her very long hair into a short and fairly androngynous style and it looked and felt much better to her.
At this point I'm going to switch pronouns on you, because saying "she" and "her" is driving me nuts. But I wanted to make it clear that I'm still engaged to my soulmate, the same one as before, and that I haven't switched people on you, it's just that my "girl" became my "man". Though "became" isn't the right word at all.
J has a gender therapist appointment for two weeks from today, and I'm going with him to provide moral support. I've been his unofficial therapist over the last year, and I seem to have done a reasonable job, but transpeople have unique challenges to face internally and externally and I feel out of my depth. So we'll see how that goes. J says he doesn't plan to start hormone treatment or get surgery, but if he changes his mind I'm supportive. I figure it's my job as the woman here to make sure he's taken care of. :) I've been doing that all along anyway... I think J's hoping they'll scan his brain to see if it's structurally almost male.
So the whole thing adds a new dimension to the interestingness of our life together. At least I'm not the only unusual one anymore. I don't know if I'd call us even though. It's hard to beat me, the hallucinating sleep contradiction, even with a man's brain in a female body. XD I'll just call us odd instead.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned on here that my girlfriend, who I'm going to refer to as J, has had depression problems for most of her life. Since I moved in with her a year ago I've been working on helping her figure out the root causes of it, since I've also had it most of my life and have found my own fairly effective ways of dealing with it. Basically I'm there for her to talk to about anything, and I bother J to talk and write through things she's feeling. So far it's seemed to open up a new world of thinking about herself for her and she's discovered many things about her identity since we started. The latest of these discoveries surprised us both and turned our mental worlds upside down, while at the same time not changing a single thing about J or our relationship.
It started a month ago when we had been talking about sexuality. It's a weird issue for both of us. On the surface we are defined as a lesbian couple, but neither of us feels comfortable calling us that. Our gender roles are very clear-cut- she brings home the bacon and I cook and clean. It's almost maniacally traditional, which seems weird because neither of us have very traditional value systems. We had been talking about it on the weekend, and then J took our big dog for a walk, and when she came back she had this sort of shell-shocked expression on her face. When I asked her what it was, she said simply, "I think... I'm a dude."
We stood there and looked at each other. I felt like I was seeing her for the first time as a whole cascade of ideas fell into place. The transformation in my head went something like this:
OH!!!
unfounded depression --> gender dysphoria
gay couple --> straight couple
masculine "quirks" --> male personality
weird about clothing --> accidentally cross-dressing
girlyness --> overcompensating
bisexual --> wants to have male body + is straight
uncomfortable at work --> forced to playact being a woman
hates her body for some unknown reason --> IN THE WRONG BODY
Does this change how I feel about her? --> NO.
And then I really looked at her face, imagined her with short hair and told her I thought that she could pass as male if she wanted to. And started laughing and gave her a hug. I was/am so proud of her for figuring out the missing piece. She says that the realization for her came with a massive sense of relief.
We were both brain-crashed for the next week processing this. It wasn't that anything was different between us, or even about J. We just kept thinking of more ways in which it explains everything that either of us have been wondering about her. We're still coming up with things and it's been a month.
We found a great transsexual resources forum, Laura's Playground, and it's been a really good source of information since neither of us knew much about being trans before this. We decided to go look for clothes and got a bunch of things from the men's department for J. I've gone shopping with her for women's clothing a lot, and she was always dissatisfied while trying things on. She might find one thing that she could stand (and that fit well) out of ten things. The first time J tried on a guy's flannel shirt, she was smiling, it fit her, and it seemed essentially her somehow. I also cut her very long hair into a short and fairly androngynous style and it looked and felt much better to her.
At this point I'm going to switch pronouns on you, because saying "she" and "her" is driving me nuts. But I wanted to make it clear that I'm still engaged to my soulmate, the same one as before, and that I haven't switched people on you, it's just that my "girl" became my "man". Though "became" isn't the right word at all.
J has a gender therapist appointment for two weeks from today, and I'm going with him to provide moral support. I've been his unofficial therapist over the last year, and I seem to have done a reasonable job, but transpeople have unique challenges to face internally and externally and I feel out of my depth. So we'll see how that goes. J says he doesn't plan to start hormone treatment or get surgery, but if he changes his mind I'm supportive. I figure it's my job as the woman here to make sure he's taken care of. :) I've been doing that all along anyway... I think J's hoping they'll scan his brain to see if it's structurally almost male.
So the whole thing adds a new dimension to the interestingness of our life together. At least I'm not the only unusual one anymore. I don't know if I'd call us even though. It's hard to beat me, the hallucinating sleep contradiction, even with a man's brain in a female body. XD I'll just call us odd instead.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Therapy Cat vs. Tornado Movie Shoot Hospital
Well, the past couple of weeks my nightmares have been getting a lot worse again, but at least I have lots of furry moral support.
Last night it was tornadoes. I was a passenger in my mom's car, driving down the highway towards the beach in the area where I grew up. My mom was driving us to a hospital where she was going for work and I had tagged along. As we drove, the cloudy sky darkened menacingly, the deep grey clouds heavy and wet. It began to pour. We were almost there- I could see across the flat, grassy fields to the hospital complex, its windows lit up against the blackened sky. My mom cursed at the rain. On the horizon I saw one of the cloudy masses dip down to connect with the ground, swirling chaotically.
We sped into the parking garage of the hospital, and then suddenly we were in a big, well-lit open lobby surrounded by glass windows. The place was pretty empty, which made sense to me, because I now knew we were there to help shoot a movie. We power-walked through a dim hallway into what looked like an office. A bunch of people with cameras and boom mics and who looked like actors were hanging around there. There was an old golden retriever and a French bulldog who was wearing a frilly pink collar, apparently also ready for a part in the movie.
As the crew was setting things up, I looked out of the window and watched the heavy rain streak down the glass against the dark night. I leaned over to look straight down, and saw a small tornado headed right for the building we were in, about to take out the structure below us. I started shouting and yelling for all the people to run for the door at the opposite end of the suddenly large room.
I grabbed my mom's hand and we got through the crowded doorway, running in the group away from that side of the floor. I was terrified. I was pretty sure we were going to die.
We ran past a long wall of windows that faced one of the other buildings in the complex. As I watched, still running, the building folded in on itself and crashed to the ground in a pile of rubble, sheetrock dust rising, showing its insides. It looked straight out of 9/11 footage. I was scared and upset. We reached, suddenly, a giant open area that looked like a multi-level shopping mall, packed with people. We skidded to a stop, trying to figure out which way to go- four hallways split off. But suddenly, a deathly fire glow came shooting out of three of them, and everyone in there started screaming. We turned into the fourth hallway, which looked like it was underground. It turned into the hallways in a Japanese subway station.
I began to have hope that we might escape. And then, quite suddenly, I wasn't running for my life anymore, but blinking up at the ceiling of my bedroom.
Over the past week, as the dreams have gotten especially bad, one of our cats has started sleeping right next to me, leaning on me as if to offer comfort, as if she knows I need a hug. Normally, she's quite an elusive character and sometimes you can go all day without seeing her. Also, if you get up to go to the bathroom, she'll jump up from the bed as if offended, tail-twitching, and stalk off to the other room for the rest of the night. But this past week, instead she stays by me. She'll wait until I come back and get under the covers again, and then snuggle up close as soon as I'm comfortable.
I know she's doing it on purpose. In college, one of my housemates was having a really hard time, and this cat was always in her room next to her when she was home. The cat would sleep on top of her at night. It helped a lot. Now I think she's offering me the same favor.
Living with my girlfriend helps me a lot, even though she's a hard sleeper, because just having someone next to me makes me feel less afraid when I wake up in the night. Having our cat right against me is like getting a hug just when I need it. As soon as I wake up, she'll turn to look at me with sleepy eyes, whether or not I've moved yet, as if to ask, "Are you okay?"
Thank God for kitties. <3
Last night it was tornadoes. I was a passenger in my mom's car, driving down the highway towards the beach in the area where I grew up. My mom was driving us to a hospital where she was going for work and I had tagged along. As we drove, the cloudy sky darkened menacingly, the deep grey clouds heavy and wet. It began to pour. We were almost there- I could see across the flat, grassy fields to the hospital complex, its windows lit up against the blackened sky. My mom cursed at the rain. On the horizon I saw one of the cloudy masses dip down to connect with the ground, swirling chaotically.
We sped into the parking garage of the hospital, and then suddenly we were in a big, well-lit open lobby surrounded by glass windows. The place was pretty empty, which made sense to me, because I now knew we were there to help shoot a movie. We power-walked through a dim hallway into what looked like an office. A bunch of people with cameras and boom mics and who looked like actors were hanging around there. There was an old golden retriever and a French bulldog who was wearing a frilly pink collar, apparently also ready for a part in the movie.
As the crew was setting things up, I looked out of the window and watched the heavy rain streak down the glass against the dark night. I leaned over to look straight down, and saw a small tornado headed right for the building we were in, about to take out the structure below us. I started shouting and yelling for all the people to run for the door at the opposite end of the suddenly large room.
I grabbed my mom's hand and we got through the crowded doorway, running in the group away from that side of the floor. I was terrified. I was pretty sure we were going to die.
We ran past a long wall of windows that faced one of the other buildings in the complex. As I watched, still running, the building folded in on itself and crashed to the ground in a pile of rubble, sheetrock dust rising, showing its insides. It looked straight out of 9/11 footage. I was scared and upset. We reached, suddenly, a giant open area that looked like a multi-level shopping mall, packed with people. We skidded to a stop, trying to figure out which way to go- four hallways split off. But suddenly, a deathly fire glow came shooting out of three of them, and everyone in there started screaming. We turned into the fourth hallway, which looked like it was underground. It turned into the hallways in a Japanese subway station.
I began to have hope that we might escape. And then, quite suddenly, I wasn't running for my life anymore, but blinking up at the ceiling of my bedroom.
Over the past week, as the dreams have gotten especially bad, one of our cats has started sleeping right next to me, leaning on me as if to offer comfort, as if she knows I need a hug. Normally, she's quite an elusive character and sometimes you can go all day without seeing her. Also, if you get up to go to the bathroom, she'll jump up from the bed as if offended, tail-twitching, and stalk off to the other room for the rest of the night. But this past week, instead she stays by me. She'll wait until I come back and get under the covers again, and then snuggle up close as soon as I'm comfortable.
I know she's doing it on purpose. In college, one of my housemates was having a really hard time, and this cat was always in her room next to her when she was home. The cat would sleep on top of her at night. It helped a lot. Now I think she's offering me the same favor.
Living with my girlfriend helps me a lot, even though she's a hard sleeper, because just having someone next to me makes me feel less afraid when I wake up in the night. Having our cat right against me is like getting a hug just when I need it. As soon as I wake up, she'll turn to look at me with sleepy eyes, whether or not I've moved yet, as if to ask, "Are you okay?"
Thank God for kitties. <3
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Modern Day Werewolf
All of my life I've felt like a wild animal in a cage, pacing around the walls, looking for the reason why. As a child I did everything I could to be anything other than a human. I was a dog, every species of dinosaur I knew, a wolf, a lion, even a cat if my playmates insisted on playing house instead of some more interesting adventure game. I refused to be human. Anything felt more right than that.
When I hit my teens the feeling became even more insistent. I had grown out of pretend games, but I felt like my real life was one. The people directing my life wanted only the best for me, but they didn't allow me to shine through all their plans for me. I felt lost. I didn't know who I was- only that I wasn't anywhere near who my parents wanted me to be, and I didn't know how to proceed.
The feeling of disconnection only grew. I was tired. So much more tired than seemed reasonable, or allowed. Every day in high school I was wrung out, and keeping up my grades took so much of my focus that I had literally no extra minute for things that might repair my soul. I felt broken. I felt wrong.
A lot of teens seem to feel bad about their physical body. Some of them stop eating, some find other ways to physically harm themselves. I did neither. Instead I would imagine what I wished my physical form would be. I would concentrate on having a bushy tail and pointed ears. I could practically feel a muzzle coming out of my face. An invisible and intangible coating of fur would cover me. And this began to happen when I wasn't concentrating, even when I didn't want it to. Against my will, my fingers began to fold over whenever I was relaxed, becoming the closest thing to a paw that a human hand can. I would lie down to take a nap and wake up on my side, "paws" stretched out, knees bent, shoulders crammed as close to each other as physically possible, draped over the furniture like some sort of Great Dane.
At first, the way my imagination took the concept and ran freaked me out, but it felt so right- so much more "me" than when I was upright, pretending to be a normal human being. I had recently discovered the internet (as it was relatively new, lol) and got brave enough one day to search the word "werewolf". What I found changed my life and my feelings about myself.
It turned out it wasn't just me, that lots of other people (though obviously still a small minority) had similar sensations of feeling not human. And they weren't all teens, either- many of them were older. The term to describe this unique kind of body dysphoria is "therianthropy", and those who experience it call themselves therians. Many of the sensations described, such as the feeling of "phantom" limbs (for example, a tail), sudden shifts in your perception of your mental image (known as a "mental shift") and the feeling of being in the wrong body were all things that had already become very familiar to me by happening to me on a regular basis.
On the advice of other therians, I began to research animals, trying to figure out what I was. Many of us, for reasons unknown, are some species of wolf, though there are plenty of other types, too (big cats are also common). I still remember the shock I felt the first time I saw a photo of a Mexican Wolf. I had been startling myself for years passing by mirrors- it used to really spook me to see a human face staring back at me, and I would have a moment of who is that? The second this photo loaded, it was like I was looking in a real mirror for the first time. As a matter of fact, the exact photo in question is now my profile picture on this blog. It looks more like me than anything I've ever seen. Just like most people feel recognition seeing a photo of their own face, I only feel that recognition when I see my wolf self. This is the main reason I draw myself as a wolf- to do otherwise would be like drawing somebody else.
As my sense of being a wolf has persisted over the years, I've encountered plenty of theories as to why. As a teen on various forums I found that many of my fellow therians believed that they were whatever species in a past life and the feelings of being that species had carried over. Another popular theory was that they had the soul of a non-human animal and it had- either by mistake or by design- been inserted into a human body instead. Raised an atheist with two scientist parents, neither of those theories particularly appealed to me. If we are reincarnated animals, why the bias towards certain powerful forms? If I don't believe in a higher power who spends a lot of time inserting souls into bodies, then how can I believe that he or she made a mistake? And so I've come up with my own ideas, based on my own worldview. I used to think of therianthropy as some sort of psychological disorder and assumed that the wiring in my head was somewhat wrong. Having given up the pessimism inherent in that theory, however, I've begun to think of it as more of a result of many factors. The sense of unreality I sometimes get (as well as the mental haze I lived in for most of ten years) I know now to be caused by narcolepsy. My desire to connect with other species, and the way this was denied me for most of my life, probably also contributes, as does my extremely vivid imagination. I've always been an artist and a caretaker by nature, and have felt a bit out of place with our society's expectations of me, making it difficult for me to relate to what a human is "supposed" to be. Plus, I don't feel that it's a huge jump behaviorally from human to wolf. We have similar social structures, hunting tactics, basic needs, and complex emotional lives. I think it's fairly common to see ourselves in wolves- so why couldn't I see a wolf in myself?
It may seem out there, but all I know is that ever since acknowledging this side of me I've felt much closer to who I am. I still get my "paw hands" all the time and feel like I have wolf ears on top of my head. Fortunately, my fiancee thinks it's adorable, and my friends have always accepted it as a weird me-quirk (one of them happens to be a Siberian tiger therian). While my parents and other family members have never directly found out, I doubt any of them would be in the least bit surprised. If you know me, you know I'm wolfish, whether I've told you about it or not.
When I hit my teens the feeling became even more insistent. I had grown out of pretend games, but I felt like my real life was one. The people directing my life wanted only the best for me, but they didn't allow me to shine through all their plans for me. I felt lost. I didn't know who I was- only that I wasn't anywhere near who my parents wanted me to be, and I didn't know how to proceed.
The feeling of disconnection only grew. I was tired. So much more tired than seemed reasonable, or allowed. Every day in high school I was wrung out, and keeping up my grades took so much of my focus that I had literally no extra minute for things that might repair my soul. I felt broken. I felt wrong.
A lot of teens seem to feel bad about their physical body. Some of them stop eating, some find other ways to physically harm themselves. I did neither. Instead I would imagine what I wished my physical form would be. I would concentrate on having a bushy tail and pointed ears. I could practically feel a muzzle coming out of my face. An invisible and intangible coating of fur would cover me. And this began to happen when I wasn't concentrating, even when I didn't want it to. Against my will, my fingers began to fold over whenever I was relaxed, becoming the closest thing to a paw that a human hand can. I would lie down to take a nap and wake up on my side, "paws" stretched out, knees bent, shoulders crammed as close to each other as physically possible, draped over the furniture like some sort of Great Dane.
At first, the way my imagination took the concept and ran freaked me out, but it felt so right- so much more "me" than when I was upright, pretending to be a normal human being. I had recently discovered the internet (as it was relatively new, lol) and got brave enough one day to search the word "werewolf". What I found changed my life and my feelings about myself.
It turned out it wasn't just me, that lots of other people (though obviously still a small minority) had similar sensations of feeling not human. And they weren't all teens, either- many of them were older. The term to describe this unique kind of body dysphoria is "therianthropy", and those who experience it call themselves therians. Many of the sensations described, such as the feeling of "phantom" limbs (for example, a tail), sudden shifts in your perception of your mental image (known as a "mental shift") and the feeling of being in the wrong body were all things that had already become very familiar to me by happening to me on a regular basis.
On the advice of other therians, I began to research animals, trying to figure out what I was. Many of us, for reasons unknown, are some species of wolf, though there are plenty of other types, too (big cats are also common). I still remember the shock I felt the first time I saw a photo of a Mexican Wolf. I had been startling myself for years passing by mirrors- it used to really spook me to see a human face staring back at me, and I would have a moment of who is that? The second this photo loaded, it was like I was looking in a real mirror for the first time. As a matter of fact, the exact photo in question is now my profile picture on this blog. It looks more like me than anything I've ever seen. Just like most people feel recognition seeing a photo of their own face, I only feel that recognition when I see my wolf self. This is the main reason I draw myself as a wolf- to do otherwise would be like drawing somebody else.
As my sense of being a wolf has persisted over the years, I've encountered plenty of theories as to why. As a teen on various forums I found that many of my fellow therians believed that they were whatever species in a past life and the feelings of being that species had carried over. Another popular theory was that they had the soul of a non-human animal and it had- either by mistake or by design- been inserted into a human body instead. Raised an atheist with two scientist parents, neither of those theories particularly appealed to me. If we are reincarnated animals, why the bias towards certain powerful forms? If I don't believe in a higher power who spends a lot of time inserting souls into bodies, then how can I believe that he or she made a mistake? And so I've come up with my own ideas, based on my own worldview. I used to think of therianthropy as some sort of psychological disorder and assumed that the wiring in my head was somewhat wrong. Having given up the pessimism inherent in that theory, however, I've begun to think of it as more of a result of many factors. The sense of unreality I sometimes get (as well as the mental haze I lived in for most of ten years) I know now to be caused by narcolepsy. My desire to connect with other species, and the way this was denied me for most of my life, probably also contributes, as does my extremely vivid imagination. I've always been an artist and a caretaker by nature, and have felt a bit out of place with our society's expectations of me, making it difficult for me to relate to what a human is "supposed" to be. Plus, I don't feel that it's a huge jump behaviorally from human to wolf. We have similar social structures, hunting tactics, basic needs, and complex emotional lives. I think it's fairly common to see ourselves in wolves- so why couldn't I see a wolf in myself?
It may seem out there, but all I know is that ever since acknowledging this side of me I've felt much closer to who I am. I still get my "paw hands" all the time and feel like I have wolf ears on top of my head. Fortunately, my fiancee thinks it's adorable, and my friends have always accepted it as a weird me-quirk (one of them happens to be a Siberian tiger therian). While my parents and other family members have never directly found out, I doubt any of them would be in the least bit surprised. If you know me, you know I'm wolfish, whether I've told you about it or not.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Memorable Hallucinations Caused By Narcolepsy
I recently typed up a couple of my more interesting hallucinations in sort-of story format and figured it would be helpful to post them here. I remember doing a flurry of internet research before I was diagnosed, trying to find out if what I was experiencing could be termed "hallucinations", and literally all I could find were schizophrenia-related ones. Because of the lack of information on hallucinations (or, rather, anything) caused by Narcolepsy, I began to be worried I might have schizophrenia. More proof that self-diagnosis via the internet is a bad idea sometimes. XD
So, here are a couple of mine, in the hopes that the next generation of people looking for this information might actually find something useful.
----------------------
I am in between, floating, when it happens.
It takes me completely off guard when it does. After all, all I was doing was lying perfectly still, waiting- letting my thoughts wander, watching faint images. The beginning of a dream had begun to form; something light-hearted about looking up at the sun from underwater, and a ghostly flying horse. Though my dream was beginning all on its own, I was still very involved in the process of trying to let go of my awareness. Prying my consciousness away from its moorings. This took a lot of effort for me and I had no inkling that this strange in-between state was unnatural.
I was focused on being completely relaxed and still. Calm--
Suddenly, from behind my head a hand shoots out, the fingers clamping down over my mouth, stifling my scream before it can begin. Pure terror and adrenaline shoot through me, putting me into instant panic. I struggle with everything I've got, desperate to escape. But the hand is extremely solid, strong and real; it doesn't so much as twitch or tighten, almost as if it was made of rock.
It is in that instant that I realize that every muscle in my body is frozen. I am struggling as hard as I can and nothing is moving. I'm helpless. I try harder, desperation growing--
My eyes open on my dark bedroom. Thoroughly freaked out, I jump up into a sitting position and whirl to face the wall. There is no one there. No hand. And there is not enough space for a whole human being to fit. I'm shaking as I reach for my lamp. I am alone after all.
------------------------
In the dream, I'm eating brownies. The bites are chewy and sweet and I can feel them sticking to my teeth and gums. They're so chocolatey and delicious that I can't stop eating them, even though my teeth begin to hurt. As I chew one piece, I encounter something hard all of a sudden. I pull it out of my mouth to see what it is. My hands are sticky and covered in chocolate.
As I examine my find, I realize it is a tooth. I feel my teeth with my tongue and sure enough, there is a space where it was. In real life this would have freaked me out, but in my dream I think it's cool. I can feel the space and my tongue is exploring the crevices of it. The feeling is fascinating.
Experimentally, I begin pushing on other teeth with my tongue, and several more come loose, still attached only by a vein each. I push them and play with them with my tongue, feeling the craggy surface of the bottom of each tooth. I push too hard and the veins begin to break, loosing the teeth into my mouth. I feel pain at the moment each breaks. Suddenly I remember that these are my adult teeth and no more will grow in. I begin to panic, wondering how much damage I've done, as my mouth feels literally filled with loose teeth. Moving my mouth causes a grating sound inside my head from all the loose teeth rubbing against each other.
My mouth hurts badly now and tastes of blood. I run over to a round mirror on the wall and open my mouth. A handful of teeth fall out and rattle as they land in the sink. The sink, my mouth and my hands are thick with blood, and it runs down my face.
And then I am awake, looking at the ceiling of my bedroom, with a lingering pain and the remembrance of the taste of blood in my mouth. The first thing I do is reach up to feel my teeth with my hand. All of them are still there. I go look in the mirror right away, just to make sure.
So, here are a couple of mine, in the hopes that the next generation of people looking for this information might actually find something useful.
----------------------
I am in between, floating, when it happens.
It takes me completely off guard when it does. After all, all I was doing was lying perfectly still, waiting- letting my thoughts wander, watching faint images. The beginning of a dream had begun to form; something light-hearted about looking up at the sun from underwater, and a ghostly flying horse. Though my dream was beginning all on its own, I was still very involved in the process of trying to let go of my awareness. Prying my consciousness away from its moorings. This took a lot of effort for me and I had no inkling that this strange in-between state was unnatural.
I was focused on being completely relaxed and still. Calm--
Suddenly, from behind my head a hand shoots out, the fingers clamping down over my mouth, stifling my scream before it can begin. Pure terror and adrenaline shoot through me, putting me into instant panic. I struggle with everything I've got, desperate to escape. But the hand is extremely solid, strong and real; it doesn't so much as twitch or tighten, almost as if it was made of rock.
It is in that instant that I realize that every muscle in my body is frozen. I am struggling as hard as I can and nothing is moving. I'm helpless. I try harder, desperation growing--
My eyes open on my dark bedroom. Thoroughly freaked out, I jump up into a sitting position and whirl to face the wall. There is no one there. No hand. And there is not enough space for a whole human being to fit. I'm shaking as I reach for my lamp. I am alone after all.
------------------------
In the dream, I'm eating brownies. The bites are chewy and sweet and I can feel them sticking to my teeth and gums. They're so chocolatey and delicious that I can't stop eating them, even though my teeth begin to hurt. As I chew one piece, I encounter something hard all of a sudden. I pull it out of my mouth to see what it is. My hands are sticky and covered in chocolate.
As I examine my find, I realize it is a tooth. I feel my teeth with my tongue and sure enough, there is a space where it was. In real life this would have freaked me out, but in my dream I think it's cool. I can feel the space and my tongue is exploring the crevices of it. The feeling is fascinating.
Experimentally, I begin pushing on other teeth with my tongue, and several more come loose, still attached only by a vein each. I push them and play with them with my tongue, feeling the craggy surface of the bottom of each tooth. I push too hard and the veins begin to break, loosing the teeth into my mouth. I feel pain at the moment each breaks. Suddenly I remember that these are my adult teeth and no more will grow in. I begin to panic, wondering how much damage I've done, as my mouth feels literally filled with loose teeth. Moving my mouth causes a grating sound inside my head from all the loose teeth rubbing against each other.
My mouth hurts badly now and tastes of blood. I run over to a round mirror on the wall and open my mouth. A handful of teeth fall out and rattle as they land in the sink. The sink, my mouth and my hands are thick with blood, and it runs down my face.
And then I am awake, looking at the ceiling of my bedroom, with a lingering pain and the remembrance of the taste of blood in my mouth. The first thing I do is reach up to feel my teeth with my hand. All of them are still there. I go look in the mirror right away, just to make sure.
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