Letter number 20: Knock back

Dear Alexandra,

After yesterday’s optimism today felt like a little bit of a setback. Not all the way back, but after what feels like a good number of consecutive days of progress, a backward step or two feels frustrating. I did say I worried Zen Bert might not be in for as easier ride as he’s had so far, I hope that didn’t put the mockers on things. I don’t imagine it did.

Yesterday was a good day, but it was a long day, I went to bed later than I should considering. I slept well once I did go to bed but had a vivid and bizarre dream, you were in it. Annoyingly after waking up initially when it was clearer in my mind I snoozed and it deteriorated my recollection somewhat so it’s a bit jumbled and disconnected in my head now. It certainly meant in that strange half-awake-half-asleep time was full of negative thoughts, it cleared somewhat as I fully awoke.

I quickly jotted what I could remember at a high level on my Notes app on my phone. So I’ll try to recall it here, friends offered to do some interpreting for me but I don’t think that’s a good idea as it would give away things I’ve not shared with them. I think.

The scene was some kind of event — part festival, part corporate event. For reasons I can’t fathom I was preparing to do some kind of impression — whether karaoke or miming I have no idea — of Ricky Martin. I know, right? I won’t deny Livin’ La Vida Loca is one of my unashamedly not guilty pleasures, but well, despite getting in much better shape I don’t think that’s a good match. I had some kind of costume, I’ve no idea what that means — fortunately we never got to the performance!

I can’t remember any specific people featuring in the dream, but had the impression they were a mixture of our festival friends and work-related people. At one point I collapsed on the floor and you were panicking, asking for help. I don’t know if something was genuinely wrong with me or I was pretending. At my lowest ebbs I was occasionally fantasising about actually passing out or pretending to when amongst people, be it at football or work. I never got close to even thinking about doing it, I hasten to add (the pretending bit, I suppose I wouldn’t have much choice if it was real! I guess there was a risk initially when I was barely eating).

The outcome of this scene remains a mystery, maybe that’s why the Ricky Martin performance never happened. I don’t know what happened next. I guess the metaphor even in Dreamworld or when it’s crossed my mind in reality it’s a fairly obvious cry for help. “I’m not well, someone please look after me” — in this case it was you. We did have some kind of conversation at some point, you described your relationship with him as being “a loving but wholly virtual marriage” — weird! You made some kind of revelation/confession in front of the other people that were present, I can’t remember any details about it.

I then seemed to be in another room with no context. He was there and he was on some kind of trial — except he wasn’t really him, I know what he looks like from when Sherlock Bert was in full flow, this guy was older, gaunt, haunted. After he was proclaimed guilty (I’ve no idea what of!) he and I had our eyes locked, he made some kind of statement directed at me, again the details lost in the wisps of reality between dreaming and waking. I don’t think you were there for this bit. I seemed to feel a grim satisfaction that justice had been done, without feeling smug — which resonates somewhat from my experiences in the past of seeing a trial play out after T.’s murder.

So yeah. Weird. It left me feeling some of the negative things, the things I can’t change — missing you, wishing things were different, that we were still together. Those clouds cleared as I fully awoke but as today has gone on I have felt quite discombobulated — I can still fend off those thoughts but their assault has seemed a little more sustained today than of late. Maybe this is the more negative aspects of my thought processes finding an ‘in’ — targeting my subconscious/unconscious thinking where I have less control to manage them?

Of course it’s also the weekend now. Fridays would traditionally be where I’d plot how to get out of work early to come and pick you up as quickly as possible. A chance for some human contact, some intimacy — either passionate or affectionate. Work was good though, we had a laugh, I talked vaguely to one colleague about the dream and how it had set me back a little, I played football again and it was great to get a run out again. I’ve jarred my wrist a little making a save during my turn in goal but I think it’ll sort itself out overnight.

Luckily I have made plans for some human contact this weekend — I’m off to see K. and J. tomorrow, which will be great. I’m going to take a Uke and bully K. into finding his abandoned guitar, and try to make sure J. doesn’t try to force feed me like a goose destined to become fois gras. I’m going to make sure I get up early so Sonic has a good stint of freedom too. On Sunday I’m playing football again, in the afternoon I might go to see J. and M. — they’ve invited me over a couple of times, and it would be awesome to see them and of course Arthur, their Galah. I must message them to see if that works for them.

For now I’m keeping myself productive — playing football so much I’ve realised I need to up my laundry frequency so now I’m showered and sorted that’s on now. I’ve got another HelloFresh recipe to cook tonight after Sonic’s bed time which I’m looking forward to — Mango chutney glazed chicken breast with bulgar wheat and roasted carrots. So hipster! I should be able to freeze the spare portion too, I reckon — there’s no way I’ll need it for food tomorrow with J. on the scene!

I also spoke to the folks who are organising the therapy appointment via my work, I have an assessment call on Monday — so that will be good. Whilst I’m greatly appreciating the method of dismissing negative thoughts and encouraging positive ones it does concern me that it’s a bit too simple, and that a bit of professional advice would be really helpful. I know that therapists or behavioural experts of different disciplines have their own preferences or biases — but well, I want to have some reassurance.

One thing I keep kicking myself about is that I’ve not heard from the vet about Frankie’s ashes yet — I keep meaning to call them and forget. They rang a couple of weeks ago to clarify what I wanted etching on the casket/box thing — but haven’t been in touch since. I’ll pop a reminder in my calendar and give them a call on Monday I think, it’s not really urgent, symbolically at least it would be nice to have her home, though. I’m such a weirdo with my little bird mausoleum!

So yeah, less positive today — but certainly not anywhere near the depths I have been. Hopefully you’ve had some quality time with your Mum today. I’ve not heard from either of you, which I’m okay about — I think waiting for you guys to reach out is the appropriate thing to do in truth. I do feel like I’ve put your Mum in such a tricky position, but it’s not my fault you’re being systematically dishonest with the people who love you most I guess.

After Sonic bed time, laundry sorting, cooking/eating/clean up I’m going to find the time to get through some more of my book to try to re-encourage that more positive frame of mind it engendered, I’m going to get to bed at a sensible time and get myself up and at it tomorrow. Get a walk in before some Sonic time and then socialising. I’m sure I’ll perk up.

I hope you’re doing okay. I do still worry, I do still love you despite myself.

I love you, Bert