You know everyday now I am waking up happy. I'm not used to this. This minor discomfort I have, that is so easily smoothed over with pain meds, is just nothing compared to the joy I feel at having taken this leap of faith and created this change in my body. I couldn't resist the urge to get on the scale and there it was another pound melted away. That's a total of twenty-five pounds since my first weigh-in with Dr. Liu last October, thirteen of which I lost since my surgery the Monday before last.
Then again who wouldn't be losing weight if they were only consuming liquid protein drinks and ice chips, but yesterday I spoke to people who were eating food and the weight was still pouring off. For now I feel really, really, enthused about this surgery and the decision I made to turn my health and my life around. I'm the bariatric surgery ra ra chick. I hope it lasts. I hope it isn't the Valium and the Vicodin which I am trying to taper down off of. I've managed to be able to go without having to take so much of the anti-nausea. And of course I am also hoping that I will be able to use this energy and enthusiasm for good and not for a simple exchange of compulsions, as in food for shopping, or something destructive like that. I'd much rather trade food for sex, and Scott has just better watch out, as soon as I'm cleared for certain kinds of pleasurable activities.
I had some great dreams last night. I don't know if anyone out there even bothers to read through all of this highly detailed personal stuff, I'm so flattered when people tell me that they do, because I know how little free time we all have these days. If you do read these long posts o' mine you may remember a dream I wrote about a week ago about having sex with my ex. It was so upsetting, because unlike a lot of my dreams, it wasn't very lucid. I was really stuck in the dream and couldn't control it like I often can.
In last weeks dream I was having very detailed, super graphic sex with my ex-husband. God, it hurts to say that, ex-husband, even though I am completely committed to my beloved Scott, the super brainwashed little Catholic schoolgirl in me often takes over and when it comes to marriage this is just one of those places where I truly believed in death until you part, So even though I have almost no contact with him, I am just recently having these intense dreams about my ex.
In this older dream we were screwing in his car. We had sex about four or five times and it was so real that it hurt to be in that moment, to be remembering the love I felt for him, the closeness, the intimacy. The way he smelled, felt, and tasted, and then to wake up suddenly with all this heartache and memory. Even now as I write this it brings up tears.
The good news is that on the dream plane I seem to be growing up and progressing, and it feels good. Funny, I keep hearing this Madonna song running through my head, Last night I dreamt of San Pedro gotta be the drugs. So back to the dream; I'm always dreaming about houses and house construction. I know that houses often symbolize ourselves but we were constructing our home when we split so I often go back to that time when I dream of him. I'll put the rest of this behind the cut tag so you won't have to read it if you don't want. Although it's a pretty good one with lots of sex with a celebrity, hee.
We were in our house, and it was much bigger and better than the one I have. Of course there were the usual secret hidden rooms, rooms under construction, high ceilings, floor to ceiling glass windows that jutted out at odd modern angels, a bigger garden, and an extra garage in the back that could have fit four cars, it was that big. There was room for everything, so much storage for clothes books, computers, toys, just everything would fit easily and neatly into this super huge organized space.
I remember going in to my closet and thinking, this just isn't big enough so I pushed against this wall filled with shelves and clothes and it simply slid over and doubled the space in the room. All of the stuff about the house was exciting and confusing at the same time because it didn't fit with my memory of the real construction of the house I live in.
At the same time I was deeply upset over my relationship with Robby. He was having affairs, acting out, purposely doing everything he could to oppose and act out against me and our relationship -- like a child. And it hurt. It hurt so bad. I kept walking around looking for anyone who would listen to my grief, anyone who would understand me, because Robby wouldn't. He was busy mixing drinks and getting horsd'oeuvres together for all of the party guests that were meandering around. Most of these people felt like enemies, the way people at Robby's parties always felt, like people who, knowing Robby, just didn't understand our relationship and in a way felt sorry for me. It felt to me like everyone I met knew something about my own husband that I didn't. It was terrifying.
My old friend Lorraine was there but she was mostly scary and unsympathetic. I tried to turn to her but she didn't seem to care and she kept disappearing. Robby's fencing friends and girls (believe me they are always girls not women) he was having affairs with were coming in and out of my bedroom and being mean to me. It was all so painful. Here we were building this amazing home, and I was so afraid that he was planning on leaving me -- weighing how much more I could take of this constant abandonment and cruelty before I gave up and asked him to leave.
And always in the back of my mind, the thought that my old life, the one I have been living since he left was better, so much better, and that I missed it. I missed being able to make my own decisions without having to consult him, this cruel man who thinks only of himself.
I keep trying to get him alone to myself to talk to him. Get him away from his sycophantic little fuck-slave girlys and his geeky fencing friends who are just a bunch of beer swilling trashy bastards, (hey that would be a good name for a band -- The Trashy Bastards). I think that if I can get him alone he'll be the way he used to be, we'll find our familiar bond and I'll be able to appeal to him, explain to him that he isn't acting like himself. Get him to change back into the man I thought he had been for twenty years with me, and not this mean, selfish, forty-two year old party boy who lives with his mother and dates sixteen year olds.
Finally I get him alone and we go to this enormous garage to talk. I am walking behind him as he walks ahead towards a shelf on the wall where he picks up this really freaking looking party doll. You know the kind, the cheap plastic ones. The ones that are made for really desperate boys looking for a dependable date-buddy with plenty of holes. Only this one is somehow freakier. She's bigger and more realistic. Her mouth is a great big pink O, her eyes are bugged out in fake ecstasy, and she's wearing a purple and white dress, and it's just simply the final straw for me.
It finally hits me that this is who he is -- who he wants to be, a perpetual teenage party boy and it just doesn't get any deeper than that. The man I was married to, the man I thought he was, was an illusion and he is gone. The grief I feel over this is terrible, deep and wrenching, it tears me up inside, but somehow catching him with this ridiculous doll strengthens something inside me and I turn and walk away from him -- this man who has broken my heart more times than I can count.
I go back into the house and into my living room and there are a few of my own friends there. People who get and appreciate me. An actor who I adore and am close to in my dream world is there,
Christopher Meloni, who you guys will know from Law and Order SVU. (I've been following him for a while because he has this fascinating intensity about him. When Holly Hunter, Ed Harris, and that whole gang broke off from The Met and were forming what would have been The Loretta Theatre, where we briefly joined their amazing acting class that collapsed, heartbreak, I went to see him in a play and he just simply blew me away. So this must be why he's showing up in my dream playing Mr. Love Interest Sex Guy.) I am so relieved to see someone who cares for me that I get down on my knees and throw my arms around his hips. He doesn't have a shirt on and he is thin and ripped with muscles. We are old friends and he makes a joke about how he likes my being in this position.
From this moment on the dream becomes a hot panting pursuit of a sexual encounter with this man who I want soooo badly. I'm not even thinking about Robby anymore. What is so hot about this for me is that he wants me just as badly as I want him. A nice change from the desperate hurting of trying to get my awful ex to love or want me. But because I am married to Robby and Chris has a girlfriend as well, we are trying to be circumspect and making plans to sneak off. Finally we are able to get away and go into this room and start to have sex. We are kissing and touching and it is so real and so passionate and so good. I remember pulling his jeans down and grabbing his ass which is so perfect, and thinking this man is so amazing. We start fucking, my heart is beating so fast, and it is sheer heaven, but then the door opens and it is some friend of his girlfriend who screams and runs away.
We fumble with our clothes and keep kissing and promise to get back together as soon as we can clean everything up with our respective partners. It is every fantasy you could hope to have about having desire for someone completely requited. He wants to live with me and wants me to get rid of Robby. I am in heaven. I am finally with a real man who wants me and appreciates me. I go into the kitchen where Robby is messing around with blenders and I feel so strong and right as I tell him that I don't want to be with him anymore, that this is my house, and that I am going to go to a hotel with Chris for the night and that he has until the morning to clear his shit and all of his dopey friends out, and then I walk out the door. It was AWESOME!!!!!!!!! My little dream girl finally got what she wanted and stood up to my ex. I woke up so happy.
There was also another brief part of the dream where I was trying to save someone by flying a search and rescue helicopter. I was flying it right up to these sharp peaks and sheer mountain drop offs and at one point I was showing off by flying it upside down.
Anyway this has taken me forever to transcribe and if any of you have bothered to read this far, I so owe you. I have got to get back to work here and focus on clearing out some of this e-mail. I had some broccoli soup, real food for the first time in what feels like ages, yeay.