Floating on the Remnants of a Dream

I didn't begin today in a very good mood. My dream, which was sad, kept lingering. It's faded, but is still with me. 

I was at some kind of music festival and came across a little lost girl. She was beautiful, about 6 years old, with long, dark hair. She was very calm, but wanted her daddy. She reminded me a lot of Lyra, despite the physical differences. So we searched together for him. I knew what he looked like, because he was, for reasons known only to my subconscious, George Harrison. We wandered for a long time. Occasionally, we would rest. She sat on my lap and I hugged her. I stroked her hair and thought about how much I miss being able to touch Lyra. Finally, I spotted George in a crowded room, took her up to him and said, "There you are! We've been looking for you everywhere!" He barely glanced at us. He took her hand, said, "Yeah. Thanks. I gotta go." And led her out of sight. We didn't even say goodbye. And I had a terrible sense of loss and sadness.

The dream is a jumbled up bunch of nonsense, of course, but the emotions are real. Why is my subconscience doing this to me?

So I woke up feeling bereft. Of course, tomorrow is my emptiest day of the week. I think I need to give my psyche a rest and distract it with movies and tv shows on my iPad. And maybe I'll also give meditation a try. I've never been very successful with that, though. My mind is too restless. That's one reason, I theorize, I have trouble falling asleep.

I really, really miss Lyra. One time she was sitting on the bed next to me, her back to me, and I wrapped my arms around her middle in a big, squeezy hug. She laughed and said, "Daddy, look! Mommy has me surrounded!" Clever girl.

At least I don't miss the use of my legs so much anymore. That's just something that IS. I'm looking forward to getting up in a Geri-chair, but have been told they have to build one for me because my legs are contracted in a weird way. As far as I know, that hasn't been started in the 6 weeks or so since .i was promised one. It's a little more than discouraging, to say the least.

One step forward, six steps back.

The demands of being patient while, conversely, being impatient are exhaustingly confusing. If this waiting goes on much longer without progress, I'm going to demand to start getting up in my regular wheelchair and they'll just have to devise a way to make it work. I will NOT be put off endlessly until something happens to prevent me from getting up like it did at my first, hellish, place of residence. I just won't stand (ha ha) for that again.

I've definitely got the grumpies today. Sorry. If I could manage it, I would storm into the administrator's office and demand to know how long this will take, because I am rapidly losing what little patience I have left. 

Funny thing is, in the past I would felt more and more depressed and hopeless, but now I'm getting more and more angry and indignant, instead. As my therapist has pointed out, depression is anger turned inward. Apparently, being angry and impatient is the better scenario. 

Well, I did warn in the beginning of this blog that it was mostly about my struggles with paraplegia and the death of my daughter. Looks like today's one of those days.

Thanks for bearing with me. You guys are the best.

Here's a photo that I feel mirrors my transition except that I don't have zapping powers. Sometimes I wish I did, though. What an amazing temper-tantrum I could have!