Lost in my Own Mind

Disclaimer: This is much more like a stream of consciousness post that has very little editing and it makes barely any sense at all but my desire to post this took over my desire to edit it.

Has anybody ever completely loss themselves in their own mind and thoughts? I mean to the point of being delusional. When it’s on purpose, it seems to be okay but when it’s an accident, that is pretty terrifying when reality hits you, like the unexpected bowling ball flying through the air and smashing into your skull. There is a moment of wonder and how you got to this point and then a moment of complete self-loathing that you lived so deep into this imagination. is there even a point in which you can come back? Of course yes. But, my problem is that I normally don’t want to. Not everyone is going to understand this. I do feel like we are a very specific breed of people. The kinds of people who make up worlds in their heads and can configure them into such detail and specificity that it’s practically real to them at least. When reality sucks or is taking a little too much of a toll on the mind, some find this alternative world to be an escape. It’s like a fantasy but not at the same time. Unless you have experienced it, then it’s a difficult concept to grasp, unfortunately. This isn’t like, I am fantasizing of being the next winner of American Idol or some other singing show even though I cannot sing at all. This is more of, I am creating  whole in world for myself in which a person (more like a character) that is like me but isn’t entirely me had this entirely new life that involves  a rough childhood, singing on the street for money during the day and bartending at night and then being  seen by a producer and forced onto the show against their wishes but ends up blowing everyone away with their true soulful renditions, winning the show and then becoming one of the most iconic voices of their age. But this fake person not me and I do not want it to be me. I just want to be able to go to this fake made up in my head reality every once in a while to allow myself to pretend to have this experience that I will never have in my entire life but I am perfectly okay with not having in my actual life. I just want it in this fake life that is not mine but only exists in my head. Did that make any sense at all? Probably not.

It’s a creation, a field of possibilities where everything happens for a reason. A place that, dare I say it? Is just much more fun for me to be in then my regular life. I do actually feel guilty for going into my mind so often. I do not have a difficult life. I actually have a blessed life fill with love, laughter and experience. I have never gone hungry, always had what I needed in life and cannot say that anything horrible traumatic has happened to me to the point of a mental break. My life as I know it is pretty wonderful. And yet, why do I escape to this mind fantasy as much as a do? Is it because I am selfish? Is it because I keep thinking things are going to get better? Is it because I am focusing on what I don’t have rather than what I do have? Or is it because it’s fun? It’s almost like a drug, this mind escape of mine. A place where everything that I need is at my disposal and where nothing can go wrong unless I dictate it. Then maybe it’s actually a control issue. Am I a control freak? In such a way that when things do not go my way, I flee to the place where things always go my way? That is pretty messed up. It’s almost like a tantrum, and I hate tantrums. I understand why tantrums happen but there is something about seeing it occur from an outsider’s perspective that gets under my skin. It can be a child or an adult but it makes me cringe. Which is hypocritical of me I know because of course, in my life time I have had tantrums. But when why does it bother me so much to witness this behavior in others. It’s a lack of control I guess? It’s crazy almost how my mentality works like that. My selfishness. This part of me that I want to change so much.

But is has saved me on a few occasions. Just a few days ago, I was out at a bar when a young man approached me pretty brashly with the intention of making out and maybe dancing. I really had no desire to do this but I was relatively intoxicated at the moment. In a general, there would have been a chance that I would have ended up following through despite knowing in the back of my head that I shouldn’t. But because I was able to escape to my mind, and realized that this person was not as gentlemanly as the other character that I had made up in my head. I realized that I would rather not so I walked away. I had lost myself so much in my mind that I decided that I would rather just sit at the bar by myself and go there rather than interact with a real life person. This truth about that night is a bit of a double edged sword. One, thank goodness because my evaluation of that situation the next morning made it seem as like I would have made some bad decisions if I had decided to follow through. However, would I have had the same reaction if the person was different. If the person who approached with a nicer attitude? Or just treated me nicer? And I would have just turned them away to be alone with my own thoughts? Is this an actual problem? Now I know what it means when they say that a mind is a dangerous thing. Is this normal? Am I running solo on this? Do I have a problem?

Putting the Fuse in Confused,



GPS, Please Locate Dream

As the battle rages on, I did not realize that I was dreaming. It was pretty obvious though. Between the ghoulish creatures and the spells being cast with sparks flying around, this was the stuff imagination was born for. However, as with any of the dreams that I am fortunate enough to remember, I of course did not realize that this was actually not real. I fully had immersed myself in the fight for human kinds existence. I was able to fly, that was the part I remembered pretty vividly. I did not know how I knew flight was a skill on my resume, but I did know that I could do it. My parents were there. They were dressed strangely in retrospect but of course in the context, they were dressed exactly how they should have been. Because that’s how dreams work. My mom put the object in my hands. Trying to recall, I do not know what it was or what it did or even what it looked like. But it apparently was important. “Go now!” Mom yells to me as the dangerous creatures grow closer. “You are our only hope,” Dad whispers to me as the chaos continues to ensure behind him. He and Mom give me one last look, the way that parents do to their savior kids in all the great adventure movies. They push me forward and I take flight. I soar higher and higher, and I hear Mom’s yell at me to keep going. To keep flying. To save them all. I race forward when Dad’s voice echoes around me. “Wait! Come back!” What? In this dream of magic and escapade I am suddenly confused for the first time. I whip my head around to see Dad running towards me waving something back and forth above his head. It’s a GPS. The exact one I have in real life that is currently in my car. “You forgot this! You don’t know where you are going! You are going to get lost!” This is the point where I spring awake from my dream. I am breathing pretty hard as I sit up and I can actually feel my heart beating from all the imaginary excitement that was being expressed behind my closed eyelids. But that ending…

I cannot say that I am exactly surprised. My dad has done this before. I get lost all the time, even in places that I have been to multiple times. I have gotten lost more than once in mega Wal-Mart’s (not lost as in I don’t know where the cereal aisle is, I mean lost as in I have been wandering for 20 minutes and can’t find the exit!) So instead of constantly being worried about his meandering daughter, Dad decided to just get me my own GPS. Two notes about this. One, this was before phones had a fancy built in GPS. Two, this was before I was really driving on my own and way way before I had my own car. This was actually partially so I could just get around in general believe it or not. I have, in real life, walked around with a GPS to find a neighborhood friend of whom I couldn’t quite remember the exact location of her house. That was many years ago and I have not lived at home for a while now but Dad always still asks me if I have a GPS with me when I mention that I am leaving my house. And apparently, even when our kingdom is burning down around us, when the trolls and dragons are attacking, when the magic of wizards and knights are barely holding them back, when time is of the essence and the of the lives of millions rests in the hands of his one and only magical flying daughter, he will still make sure that I have my GPS with me. Or else, we are all doomed.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


Doggie Blues

My roommate’s dog made a run for it one day I was alone with him, and I’m pretty sure that day I experienced my first true panic attack. It’s a strange feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you see your roommate’s brand new dog sprinting down the neighborhood as fast as he can. I dropped my purse and started to sprint after him as fast as I could…in cowboy boots at least. According to Google Maps, I ran for 0.6 miles after this dog. Along the way I passed a group of kids playing soccer and got them to help me chase him for a little bit but eventually even they gave up. I lost him a few times, but then I saw a little kid sitting on the sidewalk breathing heavily every few feet or so. It was like a really messed up version of  Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs. After a while, I caught him in my line of vision and focused on him completely. Every once in a while, he would turn his head and look back at me, see me chasing after him and then run faster. I tried to slow down or stop when he did it again and he would stop for a second or two but that dog was having the time of his life right now. Holy crap was he was living life for those 10 minutes. I wish you could have seen just how happy he was during the worst moments of my life. Don’t worry, this story doesn’t end with him being lost forever or being hit by anything but it doesn’t end that great, for me at least.  

What finally made him stop was a high-schooler on a bike. “Is this your dog?” He yells to me. He has to yell because I’m pretty far back. “Stop him! For the love of god stop that dog!” I scream-cry at him, because I am beyond sobbing by this point. He causally get off his bike, starts to walk up the sidewalk and this dog…he decided to slow down, trot up to the boy and calming starts to use his paw to toy with the kid’s jeans. The boy picks him up and hands him over once I finally catch up. I’m still crying, and this dog is not having it. He does not want to be carried after all the freedom he just had but I was not letting go for anything. I thank the boy through my tears and then start to head home. I look around and have a terrible realization: I don’t know where I am. All I could do was run after this dog, I didn’t know what turns he made or what streets he cut across. I reach for my phone… and then realize that it was in my purse which I had dropped in front of the house when I started the chase. So I start to walk when a voice says “I know a short cut to get back”. One of the kids playing soccer had caught up to me. I find out later that he was in 7th grade. I think he knew I was lost, but didn’t want to make me feel any worse. But, not intentionally, he managed to do that anyway on our way back. He started by apologizing for not being able to keep up to which I profusely told him that I was grateful that he tried. “Yeah,” he said “I have asthma so it’s hard for me to run so much”. Mr. Salt, meet Mr. Wound. Why don’t you get to know each other better. Then he asked “Are you a student?” To which I wasn’t too sure what to respond. I was a graduate student who worked full time… but I think he was asking if I was a high school student. I thought about just going with it but I gave in and told him the truth. I think he responded with something along the lines of “Oh that’s cool” but his face said it all. “You’re an adult?!”

While I was trying to find my way home, holding a squirmy dog and being led my an asthmatic kid in middle school….meanwhile…. my roommate was panicking because when I didn’t go out to the parking lot to meet her, she ventured to the house to find a wide open door, a purse toss in the grass and a roommate and dog missing. She apparently walking up and down the neighborhood shouting my name (which of course I couldn’t hear because I was loooooong gone). It got to a point where someone asked her if she had lost her dog, to which she responded “No! I lost my roommate!”

 The boy successfully shows me the way home and we passed his friends on the way back (along with their parents who quietly judged the crying woman, carrying the wriggling dog who had sprinted past about 20 minutes ago). To try and save face I make a public announcement. “Dogs are a lot harder to take care of than you think.” It was a great statement, I don’t even think it was a grammatically correct statement. As I went up the hill, I hear screeching tires. And then more screeching tires from a different car. My roommates runs into view shouting “What happened?!” Ignoring the angry people in the car behind her. I actually didn’t know what to say. And I was still crying. So we got in her car, we got back to the house. My other roommate (the one that the dog actually belong to) was unnaturally calm and very sweet about the situation. She comforted me more than I comforted her. (I actually got suspicious and thought of all the silent ways someone could commit murder). But in the end, everything was settled. The dog and I both learned a lesson. Until it happened again a few nights later on Halloween. But a Power Ranger caught him that time. And that’s not a sentence you get to say every day.

Putting the Fuse in Confused