Confessions from Sister Margaret Mary

Alvin's friend passed away recently, this sweet girl was in Alvin's youth group way back in the day, we were the same age and her death and the circumstances surrounding her life affected me a great deal. We went to Bloomington, IN for the funeral and memorial service two weeks ago and I just now feel like I'm beginning to feel normal again. That I'm no longer under some cloud of confusion or constant feelings of being overwhelmed. The whole ordeal really shook me at the core of my foundation. What little foundation there is, for that matter. I don't feel like getting into explaining what happened or how it affected me...I think I'd rather just leave it alone...I've had a hard time getting a peace about it but feel I've finally reached some place of peace...so we'll leave it at that.
During our time in Bloomington, Alvin and I caught up with some old friends of his and had dinner. One couple, their son and new wife treated us for pizza. It was a good time with good conversation even though I was sick with the flu or some nasty illness that had me down and out. The highlight was meeting James' wife (the couple's son's new wife) Susan. She is a writer and wrote three books which she generously gave to Alvin and I. The first book she wrote, I read today. The Lost Soul Companion...A Book of Comfort and Constructive Advice for Black sheep, Square Pegs, Struggling Artists, and Other Free Spirits. What a treasure of a book with such profound advice. I love it's comforting style and the feeling that the author, Susan, is along side you sharing in this journey, we call life. I'm mustering up the strength and words to write her and share with her the appreciation I have for her uncanny ability to speak such wisdom. Check it out.

I wake up in such utter despair sometimes. My peaceful, restful state regularly gets interrupted with such bullshit dreams. Dreams I know are intended to highlight something, to catch my attention, but rather leave me lonely and overwhelmed. For as long as I can remember I have dreamt of my family. Replaying memories of my childhood or some variation of them. For many people, when they drink, this very honest almost uncanny part of themselves displays itself. I'm not a big fan of drinking so for me that gut-wrenching honesty shows up in my dreams. In my waking life, I practice a lot of energy in controlling myself, keeping myself in check as far as what I feel and how I react to it. How I would really act if I would lose control and be uninhibited portrays itself in my dream life. Its almost embarrassing to share with others. I don't need this area of myself to be addressed or to be given any clout. Then again, in full humility I acknowledge that most of my dreams show some area of unforgiveness, shame or confusion in myself. And that's where the utter despair makes its entrance. From my standpoint, my life has been made up of very little progress in terms of growth for myself. I wake up in what I hoped would be a new start to a brand new day but rather I am avalanched with a mess of dreams to sort out and confront in a real and honest way. I most of the time slip into some sloth like state of pity, a depressed and angry shell of a woman. Feeling burdened and overwhelmed with the intensity of my subconscious and its power over me. It's all just so stupid, I say to myself and then go on with my day, starting some meaningless, mundane task that must be done but will bring no real change to my life and certainly no substance. It's endless, this merry-go-round of nothingness that I live in. I have so many coping mechanisms set up so that I can maintain some sort of "regular" life but nothing very profound. Just existing really. As far as the dreams go, they are constant companions or enemies, I should say. And the beat goes on.