I Need a Hero

Supernatural on the CW has the best character/hero/GOD-man EVER...

Dean Winchester (Jensen Ackles)is the older of two brothers who hunt down and destroy evil things. As far as characters go, Dean is the ultimate portrayal of my vision of the "ideal male romantic lead" in just about every way.

He's hot. Obviously. 6'2" with green eyes and a cocky smile. Strong and sexy with a tight butt and.... okay, now I have to wring out my keyboard... "Butt, eyes and biceps" Dean has them!

He's strong. He's seen it all, done it all, stood through it all. He's confident and funny and loves to joke and play and screw around. He doesn't run away, even from the few things that scare him. He didn't run from his past, or his current situations or his future... even when that future is going to hell.

But he's deep. No paper cutouts here. Dean goofs around and is tough. ("No chick flick moments." "Jerk." "Bitch.") But he would do ANYTHING for his family. He sold his soul to save his brother. He refused to shoot Demon Sammy. He gets furiously angry and hurt to the core. And he comes through the other side back to the Dean we know and love.

He is noble with a higher purpose. He goes out to kill the things that would otherwise kill us. He's a good guy. His life has some larger meaning; he does things that make a real difference (fictionally speaking of course). And when given the choice between everything he ever wanted and doing what was right at personal pain and loss, he did the right thing.

Dean is a hero...



Maybe more later... thoughts on why the heck I am obsessing about this.

Cracked My Head (Hurt - Falls Apart)

In the middle of the song "Falls Apart" (by Hurt) are the following lyrics:

I cracked my head and broke my
I cracked my head and broke my
I cracked my head and broke my...heart

And the hell of it is what we are
We finish and wish we could start again
Our skin tears away as our memories fade with age
And we don't even know 'til its gone...
But everything just fell apart
'Cause everything just falls apart for me


I think that is an accurate summary of today.

Where to begin...? Idle chatter. That's where I always begin and that's what always throws me off-track. Typically it's "How are we today?" just because the 'we' makes him squirm. He's getting used to it though, finally. Today it was simple. "Did you have a good Easter?" followed by a discussion on why jelly beans and Mountain Dew do NOT make for a good breakfast. I don't remember where it went from there but eventually it landed with me laying down my proclamation on him:

"There are times when I am perfectly capable of rational, healthy thought patterns and beliefs."

Well, that intrigued him, as I had hoped it would. He wanted an example so I gave him my prepared statement (from a couple weeks ago *rolls eyes at self*). "He set me up."

Shrink was happy and frustrated at the same time. He's been trying to tell me this for how long? I didn't have the nerve to tell him I couldn't see it until I saw it for myself. But then he pushed on. About choices and control and the stretch of a child's world. I drifted in and out, relying on Babble to hear what he was saying so I could repeat it on command. And he did indeed ask me to repeat what he had said so that he knew I had heard and understood him. Babble helpfully complied. But she was whispering. He kept his guard up, watching me.

And then he kept pushing and pushing until I felt like lightning was going to rip my skull apart. Every word out of his mouth was weight on my chest, taking away the air. And I left.

At this point I'm not sure if I should tell you what actually happened next and follow chronologically or follow it through my own eyes. My eyes is more dramatic so I'll go that route. *wink* Always one for drama, aren't I?

So the Shrink is pushing me harder and harder and I break and run for it. I had the presence of mind to tell Babble not to let him know I was gone before I left but she doesn't really like being in charge so that didn't go over well. Next thing I know, my head hurts like hell. And it's no wonder since I had been banging it against the wall..... UNTIL IT BLED.

What the hell is going on?!

'Bout time you showed up... (That was Babble.)

My head hurts.

Um, yeah, better go check on that.

So apparently when I took off for my little siesta, Babble wouldn't take the reins. Since I told her to not let the Shrink know I had left, she wouldn't let Zombie take over. And that was when the mutiny occurred. End result was me staring at the wall for 5 minutes only to have Ginny decide to "help" but Shrink saw right through her. Asked her how old she was so she panicked and called Mary out. The two o them together managed to confuse the royal hell out of Shrink for a bit. When Shrink started getting agitated, Babble finally stepped in and over the course of about 5 more minutes gradually slid my words and motions back to a "normal" standard for me. Shrink still kept firing questions quicker than she could answer them so that didn't exactly work but he let us leave.

My SIL cancelled on me for our walking schedule and my Dad cancelled on me (last week) for lunch so I just went home. And everyone roared and argued and fought until Pyro had nearly broken free. Babble again stepped in, with the help of Max, to try to bring me back to put a stop to some of the chaos.

It would seem they decided (with much support) to "knock some sense" back into me.

Ouch. Cuts and burns don't hurt. Cold and heat don't hurt. But I've never mastered the knack of getting rid of a headache. Now I have a goose-egg with cuts throughout it - AND A HEADACHE! But at least it's easy to provide a cover story. Officially, I banged my head on the van door. (Yes, I made sure to go do just that so that it is true.) Unofficially... OUCH.

And I still didn't manage to tell the shrink most of what I had in mind. I had it all lined up and just... froze. Until afterwards, sitting on the couch and thinking of all the things I should have said. And it feels like Everything just falls apart...

I Cannot Escape Ingrid Michaelson

"All I can do is keep breathing..."

"I want to change the world - instead I sleep."

It's like she climbed into my head and pulled one of my most basic facts and one of my most tender fears. I have this secret image of myself, of the highest potential that might be possible. I keep it buried in my heart, working towards it silently. I can see where I'd like to be, but I don't feel worthy enough to pursue it with any sincerity. Instead I find that I am stuck in a cycle of self-loathing and running away from anything uncomfortable.

I want to go to school. I want to be enthusiastic and happy. I don't want to plan my laughter, to analyze a comment and create a reaction to it. I want to pursue the things that spark a fire in me. I want to use those things to become someone who can help people and make a difference. I want to change the world!

Instead I sleep. I flee to sleep like a child to a security blanket. In sleep I can shut out the real world and escape into one that, even when frightening, ends up safe. I feel tired all the time, the kind of tired that comes from discontent rather than lack of sleep. I want to be a turtle and retreat into my shell and stay there.

I feel so trapped. My age-old backup plan has been cut off. I can't take a handful of pills and give up on everything - though I want to so badly that I find myself staring at the bottles before walking away. My escape route has been eliminated and now I am left trying to figure out how to make my way through this world.

I know it is all about choices. And I know that I am the one making the choices. And yet I constantly make the wrong ones. I tell myself that I am going to go do something productive like laundry or whatever. And then I find myself laying on the couch to go to sleep. And I think to myself - wait! How did I get here? Get up! And tell my body to get up. And nothing happens. I have made the wrong choice again.

I don't know how to get the things I want without losing the things I have and most of the things I have, I'm not willing to lose, like my house and my van and the kids being able to take lessons and things. I feel that to take away the things that would need to be sacrificed would be selfish. So I am stuck in a kind of stasis, trying to tread water to keep everyone around me happy.

"I want to change the world. Instead I sleep." (Keep Breathing, Ingrid Michaelson)

You Look Great!

I am not having a good mental health week. I am trying to keep a smile on my face and an optimistic remark cued up. I grit my teeth against an infinite number of things that shouldn't be a big deal but are seriously annoying me... Kid-1 tapping on things (DUH! He's a drummer!) Hubby snoring (like he can help that! *rolls eyes at self*) Bad 80's movies on the television, stupid songs on the radio, annoying conversations in my head, kids bickering, dog banging on the screen to be let in, stories from my writing groups that are dreadfully awful, anecdotes from friends that are about things I don't care about, error messages on the computer, running out of Mountain Dew, Baby not having a jacket, Hubby home really super late without warning.... things like this that shouldn't - and don't normally - bother me. But I constantly feel like I am having to smother my words and tell my feelings to sit down and shut up.

I feel like shit. I am tired and unmotivated and scared and so angry at myself for everything. The only time I can get anything done is when I shut all the emotions off and run on autopilot.

And yet both my psychiatrist and my GP told me how wonderful I look and that I'm looking better than they have seen me in a long time. I got the same thing from my in-laws last weekend and friends earlier in the week.

So I guess the moral of the story is that a smile and a pre-prepared statement can fool anyone...

Why a Spoon, Cousin?

The shrink wasn't happy to hear that the urge to hurt never really goes away and becomes quite intense rather often. He was glad that I haven't been doing anything about it, but said that it would be better if they weren't there. Tell me something I don't know, Doc. At any rate, he gave me homework for the week. During the times when they get so very strong, I am supposed to write down what thoughts and feelings are associated with it. Today has been a rather bad day and I am drowning in them right now so here goes...

Plain and simple, I hate myself. Everything I am and everything I do... So many things that I've done. I can't take them back. I can't make them go away. Pictures and sounds and stories seem to linger in the background of my mind and they won't go away. And then I think back on the day and all the ways that I screwed up, that I hurt people. I hurt them and I want to hurt me. Maybe if the blood drains from me, it will drain away the evil. If I burn away the skin, will it count as credit for time served in hell? All the pain I give to others I should be feeling for myself. All sins of my past should be laid bare on my skin for everyone to see.

These are the thoughts that circle through my mind. Endless repetitions of my past and my present swarming about my head, telling me I should pay for all that I've done. Mocking me for everything that I don't know how to do right and all the things that I know and didn't do anyway. Writing them down seems to make them more intense as if by giving them words I am making them more than someone else's memories.

Is this what he wants me to write down? Is he going to ask me what I wrote? Does he want to know this stuff? Is he going to ask for more details? Oh god - it hurts!

"Why a spoon, cousin?"
"Because it's dull. It'll hurt more!"
(Robin Hood Prince of Thieves)

I Want to Run

I want to run. Well, actually, I want to jog. I keep coming back to the movie What Women Want where they are working on the Nike Women's Division account. The ad they come up with just appeals to something inside me. I want to do that! But I have to say, this urge puzzles me. Why on Earth do *I* have the desire to run? I have intensely bad knees and asthma. I wonder what is behind this. Is it metaphorical? Am I trying to run away from something? Do I want to hurt myself, as either punishment to myself or to get out of doing things with a "poor me" excuse? Am I trying to prove to myself that I can do something beyond my current reach? Am I trying to set myself up for failure? Or is it nothing more complicated than the feeling I get when I think about it: how freeing it would be to put on a pair of tennis shoes and take to the open road? In thinking about it, this is the same feeling I used to get (and later, to crave) when I would get into my car with a full tank of gas and nowhere to be... freedom.

Of course, I also dream of learning to rock climb. This is just as irrational (or more) than running. As previously mentioned, I have horrible knees. More than that, though, I am afraid of heights. But I love the idea of it, the power it implies. The power to scale walls with only small handholds and a rope. Again here, I am wondering about what is behind the scenes. Again - is this metaphorical for a desire to scale my own infamous wall? A longing to try something I have no chance of succeeding at? Am I hoping to fall and kill myself? Trying to prove I can beat fear? On the other hand, wanting to learn to rock climb doesn't have the same feeling associated with it that running does. It's more vague and "wouldn't it be cool" than a true longing to do it. So maybe the two aren't really related.

"Nike. No games. Just sports." (What Women Want)

I Wish I Could Tell You

There are so many things that I simply never say. Sometimes I consciously hold them back, even going so far as to physically bite my tongue. Many things never get all the way to the word stage, even in my mind. They hover on the edges as colors, images, or emotions. The thing is, conscious or not, I can't say these things to the people they are about. I don't think I can say most of them even to people they are NOT about. I'm not certain I can say them even into an overwhelming silence. I think I'm going to try.

I don't know why I can't say those words to you that you wanted me to say. I don't know why they make me want to run and hide. I don't want you to think I'm not trying or specifically trying to avoid you. I want to do as you ask. I want to please you more than you know. In fact, I think about you too often. What would you think about the way I handled this? What would you say if you saw me the way I really am? Do you know that I analyze everything you say, everything you do, and everything you don't? Do you know how frustrated I get at your seeming perfection? You have it all figured out and I want that, more than I can say in words. I want to study you, understand you, take your mind and your past and your memories apart until I can find out how you became who you are. I want to do this so that maybe I can do it too. I want to know what you know; I want to help like you help; I want to do what you do. I feel so far beneath you that I worry about taking up your time. I feel that I don't exist before I enter your office or after I leave it. This is not a secret. What is, is that I wish I did. I wish I was important, different, worthy of notice. And yet I am relieved that I am not. And I am terrified of these feelings for fear they are inappropriate, for fear it will sound like a cliched case of patient falling for therapist. It isn't like that. I'm not in love with you. I am in awe of you...

I love you. I'm sure you know that. But I fear you. I am afraid of disappointing you, which I always seem to do. I crave your approval but don't believe it when I get it. I fear your temper but know it is earned. I hate your one-sided, self-involved views of everything. I hate your irrational reactions to the strangest things. I honestly feel that your physical problems are manifestations of your psychological issues - not that they aren't real but that you have created them. This not only includes but is especially true of the side-effects you report to every medication that might be able to help you. I don't think you want to feel better and that is why you have stopped trying. I don't trust you anymore. And now I have also finally realized that your love is now, and always has been, conditional.

I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want to imagine it. But sometimes I wonder if we are only together because I was afraid to let you go. You love me, you believe in me, you encourage me, you reassure me, and you make me feel good. I know I could never find that anywhere else and, frankly even if I could, I don't want to. But do you know that I don't feel the way I act more often than not? I can't tell you what I'm really thinking and feeling. I don't want to hurt you and I don't want you to hurt me. And sometimes, when I try to let go and trust you and tell you what is going on... I just can't do it and I don't know why. I do love you and I still find the safest place in the world is that spot where your shoulder meets your chest. And yet I fear you. Out of a perceived need to justify this fear, I play up the things you do that frighten me and downplay the things you do to support me. I do you an injustice without consciously meaning to. And you don't even know it. Would you still love me if you did?

I used to think that if I didn't watch your daughter, you would throw me away like a childish hobby you outgrew. Then I thought I had to do right by your daughter to prove myself as a person and as a mother. I have also felt that by watching your daughter, the stress it caused provided tangible justification for my feeling so fragile and overwhelmed. The thought has occurred to me that I could make amends for my past through doing right by her. When I was in the hospital, and they wanted me to say I would stop watching her, I felt betrayed and unheard and when I came home, I fought to keep her. Sometimes I think of her as one of my own. Sometimes I hope that I will become someone important to her - that someone will look up to me that doesn't have to. But lately, I wish I didn't have the responsibility of it. Not because I want to do other things, but because I want to hide from the world in the safe shadows of sleep and I can't do that with her here. I think she is good for me. I don't think I'm good for her. But I love her - it swells up my heart to think about her. I want to be good enough for her. And by being good enough for her, I hope to be good enough for you.

I don't understand you. I don't deserve the time and attention that you show me. I appreciate it, more than I know how to tell you. But I don't know why you put up with me. I have so little to offer. I want to impress you, to make you proud of me. I want to be worthy of your friendship. And I want to share in the confidence you seem to have in me. I trust you, though I can't explain it exactly. You know more about me than anyone in the entire world - possibly even more than I myself know. And yet at the same time that I trust you, I fear you. I don't understand you and I'm always afraid, somewhere in the back of my mind, often in a vague wordless way, that I can't possibly deliver whatever it is you want from me. And you continue to push me to the edges of my comfort zone and slightly beyond it. But I will keep stretching to meet your expectations, to the best of my abilities. I want to make you proud. I want to be worth everything you do for me.

I know what I need to do to be better. I'm afraid to do it. I'm afraid that I'll fail. I'm afraid that I'll succeed. I don't know how to keep what I like while changing what I don't. Sometimes, I have faith in myself and I think that I am capable of doing everything I want to do. But I am beyond terrified to admit that I feel that way. I think I am afraid that I will believe good things about myself only to find out that I am completely wrong. Better to think the worst and suspect otherwise than think the best and be knocked back into place. Besides, what if I admit that I think I can be more than I am and people expect it of me, then I am unable to deliver? The disappointment would be unbearable. Best to keep my aspirations to myself and have only myself to disappoint.