Late Night Dreams

I have other catching up to do, I know, but this just started to fester in my mind.

Does the perfect soul mate, your husband, your love match you or compliment you? Is he strong where you are weak, smart where you are clueless and fast where you are slow? Or is he stubborn like you, going head to toe against you, matching your temper with one of his own? Does he see the things you fail to perceive or do you share a world view? Do you complete each other, or match each other?

I’m balancing all these different things right now. School is going fine, but it requires a lot of work. Work I’m more than happy to do. I’m just so ridiculously happy to be learning and moving into position to get out of here. I’m forcing myself to stay organized and on top of things. I’m refusing to let myself slack off. This is a huge deal to me, an extraordinary opportunity. I’m not going to screw it up again. Least not if I can help it. My father is one of the things that can bring me crashing down. He got mad at me the other day cause I misunderstood what he said. I had asked him if I could buy a laptop to replace my old one, that was dying. I seriously believed that he said it was ok. Evidently, he disagrees with what was said. So I went and bought a laptop. And he flipped out. Now this is three days after I bought it. Its not like I’ve been trying to hide it. I thought he knew I had bought it. My mom did, which is how he found out. She mentioned something about my new laptop and he freaked. Stormed into my room, screaming and yelling. It annoys and frightens me how he can make me feel so small and worthless and stupid in a matter of moments. I think for the first time, my mother understood the extent of the damage that he does to me when he does that. She’s starting to understand that I don’t deal with my father, I just try to survive him.

Thats fucked up. I’m just trying to survive my father? There’s something wrong with this picture. She did tell me that he can change. She said he no longer speeds or plays chicken like he used to. I don’t know if word finally spread through the office and he heard how upsetting that was to me or if he just finally grew up. But he’s also accepted the fact that I’m bipolar. He was very wary of accepting it when Jenny first diagnosed me. He tried to understand on his own level, but this is something beyond what he can understand. (Although I tend to think I got it more from him than Mom.) He couldn’t understand it in his mindset. Mom said that he’s mellowed out on it a bit. And the other day when I offered to go to another doctor for a second opinion if he wanted, he seemed pretty ok with me just staying with Jenny. Mom said that he really has “grown up” and accepted it. But I’m still just trying to survive him.

And boys. Oh my, the boys. I was doing so well until that infernal dream the other night.

I was in this house, that was evidently the house of the 7th Heaven people, but it wasn’t the house on the show. It was a different house. Simon and Ashlee Simpson’s character were going around closing the shutters on the house so that the Rev, who was walking around the inside of the house, wouldn’t see them making out on the front lawn. I was watching them for a minute and then I decided to go watch TV in the living room, which was next to the kitchen/dining room that had a backdoor. Matt, or someone similar to him, came in and his father started lecturing him. I got up and walked over to them. Matt gave me this huge hug and his father continued to talk about something. We were waiting for his dad to go away, but then Matt got tired of waiting and just started kissing me, strong and passionate. I think the last time I was kissed like that was the night Mike came home back in January. There was a longing and a desire and a need, deep and dark. And then my alarm clock woke me up. So I’ve spent the past few days miserable. I miss having a boy. I miss having someone who wants me that much. I remember something Tim once said to me. It haunts me now. You have to realize that Tim was a good, straight-laced Christian guy, one of the best. So this caught me by surprise and made me feel wonderful. I asked him if he wanted me (or something to that effect.) His response was to pick me up (he’s 6’4″) and hold me against the wall so we were eye level. He said in this really low voice, “There are times all I want to do is throw you on the bed, rip off your clothes and do horrible nasty things to your body.” Then he let me down and walked away. It was so out of character for him. But to know that someone wanted me that much – I don’t know. It just felt so great. And I really miss that feeling.