This night/morning therapy installment is definitely morning which is my gratitude. Not been sleeping much, but feel asleep in mid-evening and didn’t waken until I stretched my legs, knocking my coloured pencil box off the bed at 4:30 am – often my bed time! I’ll be twice as tired (happens that way) but my body rested.
Only vague dream recollections, but another gratitude is the ability to dream again, even if nightmares. For many years, I never hit REM sleep, so I didn’t dream. Psych meds seem to take me deep enough, or stimulate my fading brain cells.
The like part. My therapist really wants me to embrace or at least acknowledge that my uniqueness (in a thousand ways). But for someone who has spent their life trying to fit in, belong, be accepted (and acceptable), it ain’t that easy. She pointed out this week, I dress uniquely. There are physical reasons for my wearing loose dresses, and low rise pants with long tops. The brightness of colours: budget and getting away from black all the time. Socks with sandals = ugly toes. Etc.
So what is now yesterday, I rocked the unique more like I used to. Wore multiple bracelets on both sides – habit started to cover over the 3 inch vertical scar left behind, after surgery and the casts came off, as a reminder I fractured, no shattered, my right wrist in July 2009. Including the bracelets I make out of elasticy head hands wrapped around my wrists. (I’ll try and take a picture sometime); an orangey-coloured dress like a long polo shirt (covering over my knees is a good idea), my “designer” orange scarf (one of the things I do, wear scarves a lot) for cold stores; light orange socks and black , flat (can’t do heels) backless sandals. And. of course, one of my ball caps. Been wearing those since I played recreational softball in my early 20s. Almost wore my straw “wedding” hat with the rusty-toned mum and grosgrain ribbon.
I still like that I can dress funky. I suppose being an old lady now, it should be easier to get away with.