Speaker's Block

My dreams have been random, detailed and vivid, lately. They aren't especially positive. I keep dreaming about people at work, letting people down or annoying them, or getting upset about things I haven't perceived correctly. I'm not sure if my brain is just trying to make sense of all the emotional turbulence of the past week, or if I have other things floating around in my head that are worrying me, but there has been a lot of mental activity that is manifesting itself in the land of dreams. My dreams are nearly always depressingly realistic, or at least non-fantasy-like, so a situation that is far from perfect in real life rarely is any different when I dream. A colleague from a neighbouring department tells me he has printed out some information about me, that he keeps on his desk like some kind of stalker-like shrine. However, I do recall an old work mate telling me that she thought I was cool, and I bask for a second in the one moment of positivity in an otherwise bizarre dream.

After work yesterday, I decided to make a quick detour to Oxford Street before going home, to pick up a couple of things and buy some jeans that I have wanted to buy for a while. The weather was my least favourite - drizzling lightly and incredibly humid. I bought a birthday card for Big Sis, a couple of other little bits and then decided to pick up a little token present for BFTP. I got out some cash and then went to buy my jeans. By this time, it was raining a little harder and I was feeling really hot from walking at commuter speed down the street. I saw way too many things I wanted to buy and remembered why I haven't been window shopping for some time. I am loathe to leave things in the window and instead end up drafting them into my wardrobe. I wasn't sure which size would be right, so I took two and went to try them on. The changing rooms were warm, I was already feeling incredibly hot and was by now rocking the 'flustered' look in full force. Note to self: don't try on skinny jeans that contain only 1% elastane in humid weather. The jeans didn't have quite enough stretch. One size was an OK fit once I actually got them on, but was a little looser on the waist than I would have liked. The other size wouldn't even get to my hips. Not being able to tell whether this was down to either heat or size resistance, I gave up. No item of clothing should be so much work to get on that you drop a dress size from all the exertion. I leave the changing rooms, find some slightly different jeans and ponder the thought of trying them on. I decide against it. I am sweating like a biatch. This is not my most glamorous look. About to leave, I spy a really nice fitted suit jacket that is a tiny bit Westwood-esque and try it on. Me likey. I end up buying it on a whim. It's an investment purchase, I reason. I can wear it to church and even work if necessary. I can't wear jeans to work in any case. Hmm, that's a good enough case, isn't it? I am clearly bad and must be stopped.

By now the rain is coming down faster, but is still very fine. The humidity has not decreased, but I decide to brave the tube as it will be loads quicker than the bus. At the station, I stop to grab a salad for dinner and get the train home. I greet Big Sis when I get there and give her another birthday hug and her card. She is marking her special occasion by spending a thrilling evening on the phone to the customer service line of our new internet provider. The modem works, the wireless works; my laptop can connect to the internet no trouble. But the PC that the modem is actually connected to, can't. Very bizarre. I have a quick chat with her and Bro-in-Law and then look at her birthday cards. Then I retire upstairs to get out of my clothes, which now feel incredibly sticky and uncomfortable.

I called BFTP a couple of times throughout the evening, but received no answer. His trip to get a repeat prescription for his medication had turned into a full-blown mission that had lasted most of the night, meaning he hadn't got home until ridiculous o'clock (or approximately 4.30am). He had been sleeping all day and I assumed that he was still knocked for six, which to be honest was probably a good thing. He has had a severe lack of sleep over the past week, his body has been trying to heal and he has experienced a spectrum of emotions, which can really take it out of you. Thinking he was tucked up safely in bed and would be for the rest of the night, I ate my dinner, got ready for bed and watched some TV. I get a call from him at about 10.00pm. His day of sleep has obviously had the desired effect and he sounds wide awake. He knows that I have written a lot about the past few days' activities and asks if I will read him some of my blog.

As I read, it is nice to remember some of what has happened. He says that because of the distance, he obviously isn't around when lots of things are happening, but when I read about it, he is transported there. He likes it. Some of the things I read are difficult to share aloud. Some of what I have written includes things that he didn't know, or feelings that he was unaware of. Some of what I read is hard for him to listen to. But he tells me that it is all honest and that we can't hate the truth. I say that I suppose we can, but hating it doesn't change it from being true. After quite a while of reading, he has to go to meet his friend. We talk a little and he tells me that he is realising how important this medium of expression I have is to us, or at least to him. In some ways, I feel like a bit of an oddball, that I am unable in some situations to just tell someone how I feel verbally, without finding it difficult. I ponder just how bizarre this makes me and feel a little embarrassed at the fact that he is so patient with and accepting of my weirdness.

During our conversation, I realise that in these situations, I don't process my thoughts very quickly. My emotional reaction may be immediate, but I don't always fully understand at that moment what it is I feel, or why. We might be having a discussion about something and I will react emotionally to a particular comment or opinion by going quiet, or wanting to withdraw. I will feel upset, but I can't always express exactly why at that precise moment. I need to go away and process the emotion and understand what I am feeling before I can adequately express and explain it to someone else. I realise that to others this would be perceived as a very delayed reaction. I suddenly remember times where I have wanted to say to someone, "Remember yesterday, when we were talking and I went all quiet/got irritated/decided I didn't want to talk to you anymore? I know what happened now. I was feeling like this…". It's an odd epiphany, but amusingly fits with the behaviour I have only just identified. I act in a particular way and only years later do I actually realise and understand why. I explain this to BFTP. He says it is something that he is just going to have to be patient with and adapt to, because it's a new situation for him. He doesn't make me feel weird or silly, he is always very understanding and seemingly willing to change his own reactions to make things work. But I still feel a little odd within myself. I don't know why I have this inability to just speak my mind sometimes. I am getting better at it, but it's still a little hit-and-miss. It can still require a lot of effort to do it and so is often either rather more blunt and less tactful in its delivery than I would like, or isn't concise and clear enough and instead ends up coming across as unimportant or vague. I never imagined that expression would be one of my issues. But then I suppose I never imagined things turning out the way they have, at all.