surfing the blender

I'm almost afraid to write anything after the dream, to spoil the moments it gives me of peace, of feeling happy for a moment when I think of Jesse, instead of tipping toward tears. Maybe because I'm at the age when the hormones first shift from full blown woman toward, well, not so much. I get angry that people in my life ignore me now, I don't just let it slide. (I try to but) I hear a long-gone therapist telling me they don't respect me (he really did, in family counseling) and something just snaps. Listen. I can even fall asleep mad, when before, I'd have to force whoever I was mad at to resolve at least some of whatever it was before I could calm down. It's good to be able to ignore how I feel and get some rest. If I couldn't, I'd never sleep. I used to write things down if I couldn't speak to the person who'd made me sad or angry. I used to write down my dreams. Now I almost never do either. I'm not sure what I'm living for exactly. But I'm not going to live quietly.

And I almost forgot, a song that gets me through the cross currents today.