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The Peak Where I Died
Dreamed 1983/1/16 by Chris Wayan
I'm ill. Again. Ever since breaking up with abusive Kay, my health has been fragile, but this is an unusually nasty flare-up. I'm not sure what caused it, though I witnessed some nasty drama between my mom and my sister today. Manipulations I didn't like. But surely just witnessing it didn't make me physically sick. Did it?
I'm trying to climb this lonely mountain rising from a desert... but let me draw it.
NOTES 20 YEARS LATER
- That peak: love. And love had nearly killed me. I'd stayed with crazy Kay far too long. The stress of her abuse had wrecked my health; I nearly died of overexposure. I needed to learn a certain selfishness to survive.
- Big public pool = the 'social swim', normal friendships.
- Private little pool = Safe peaceful time alone with no drama. What I needed to recover! If that hurts others' feelings, so be it. (My family fussed a lot, wanted us to be "close"'; but every visit drained me.) Let them accuse me of "duck"ing out of my responsibilities. Healing is my responsibility.
- ACTION: I can't scale the peak of love yet. For me it's a two-stage operation. Today I must learn to be unloving. Selfish. Say no. Or I won't be alive tomorrow TO love.
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