bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - My thirtieth birthday just passed. As a gift to myself, I booked myself an appointment for a sensory deprivation tank. Initially, I was absolutely terrified at the idea of being alone with my brain and no external stimuli. I was also anxious about the idea of combining that with my fear of the dark, but as luck would have it, intensive therapy payed off and I was able to have an amazing experience. I had the option of listening to music and having lights, but I chose silence and darkness. Everything I've read about the tanks lead me to believe it would be easier to succumb to the experience without them. Besides, what's the point of a sensory deprivation tank if you're not really blocking out light and sound? All in all, it was transcendent! I saw the most beautiful light show, and I'm fairly sure it was some kind of hallucination. I found myself wondering if my eyes were open or not, and was only when I blinked that I realized that they were open--that the light show wasn't just my imagination projecting onto the back of my eyelids, but that I had somehow cast it into the world around me. There came a point where I no longer felt as though I was inside of my body. It's hard to fully articulate, but it was as if I was only a consciousness. Every now and again, I would bump the side of the tank and return to myself for a moment, but it was very fleeting. I felt boundless. When the hour was up and I came out, I felt an overwhelming sense of calm and inner peace. It was almost as though I was high, or at least not yet fully returned from wherever I had traveled. This April (like every other, it seems) has been full of big changes and huge pushes forward. We've officially moved into our new house. There's a ridiculous amount of work yet to be done, but we've really begun to make it feel like home. I'm happy here and already settled in in a way that I was never able to in our last house. The animals seem to share the sentiment, as well. My 11 year old rottweiler, Clementine, is able to run free for the first time in her life; in the 3 weeks since we moved in, she's already taken off a bit of weight and started moving around easier. Even though our beagle still has to be tied up, he has a HUGE range and there are no longer a thousand obstacles to find himself tangled in. Even the cats seem happier; there are several windows throughout the house that catch the sun as it moves throughout the day. The cats just follow the sunbeams cast through the windows, splayed on their backs with their bellies exposed. Our last home, although beautiful and full of great memories, was never a place I was really happy. When we purchased the house from my grandmother, it was in terrible condition. The amount of work we had to put into it to make it livable left me with a resentment that I never really got over. I also had a weird relationship with my grandmother, so the house I never really had a positive association with it. I also have a very different sense of pride in our new home. It's huge and gorgeous and I almost can't believe that it's ours. Like, I find myself sitting in the living room with a sense of awe because it feels like we made it. This is what we've been working toward--what we're working for. It's the perfect home for the family that we are so ready to start. We've accomplished all the things we wanted before having children, and I think I'm at a point in my life where I am as ready as one could possibly be. The timing just seems right. I've turned 30, settled into my job, Devon settled into his new job and is happy with it. We have a new home, a new car. We've both undergone therapy to address past traumas and develop healthy coping skills, we hit the 10 year anniversary of our relationship. We're doing better than we ever have financially--for once we not only have life insurance and 401k's, but we have a fairly substantial savings. Like, if you didn't know any better, you'd think we were real adults. The last hurdles are psychological: facing the reality of my infertility and navigating the process of trying to conceive with medical intervention. It's a weird source of anxiety because it seems like such a confusing process to get started, but my goal is to begin looking into that as soon as possible. I've made an appointment to set up a primary care provider (because I only go to the doctor when I'm sick, I've never really cared who sees me). I have no idea what the next step is, but that's step one. And that seems like a pretty good place to start. 7:31 p.m. - 04.17.19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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