One of the many side effects I experience from antidepressants is vivid dreams. I remember having some crazy dreams the last time I was on meds, and this time is no different.
Luckily, the dreams are hardly ever terrifying. Excitement and thrills? Sure. Like the one I had recently about ancient Egyptian warriors taking over Times Square (yeah, even I had to laugh as I described it to J). But most are just very detailed, colorful, and stirring.
Is there an underlying theme to my dreams? I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I would I have to say that the dreams I experience most these days are of the sexual sort. I don’t think that I have ever dreamt of full-on sex, but everything else seems fair play.
I once read that when having sexual fantasies, women tend to create imaginary partners while men usually think about women in their lives — mainly, sexual partners from the past. I remember laughing as I read this, because it further confirmed the theory that I have a typical guy’s mind when it comes to many things!
So yes, I have been dreaming a lot about guys from my past. Ex-boyfriends, as well as those I casually dated, and even those with whom I have shared one-time drunken make-out sessions.
(Wow, I kinda sound like a slut, huh? I promise I’m not. My history with men seem to be on par with most of my girlfriends — and many times, a lot less.)
Mentally reuniting with the guys from my past has inspired me to look through my old journals. I have books and books of them saved from my teenage years on, and while a lot of them are embarrassing (often causing me to shake my head at my younger self, asking “WHAT were you thinking?!?”), I am grateful for them. Because now, with old memories diminishing every second due to “mommy brain” as well as my aging body, I have trouble recalling many of these events and feelings from my earlier years.
I am so glad I wrote them down.
J and I have been watching re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy lately (because don’t you know that’s what couples do? ) and I couldn’t help but be reminded of this situation as Meredith discovers her mother’s old journals. The journals that brought her closer to her mother — uncovering aspects of a mother she wouldn’t have known otherwise because she was cold and distant throughout her childhood and later developed Alzheimer’s.
I am not saying that I predict a similar relationship with my daughters. I hope I will raise them better than Ellis Grey did with Meredith, despite my not being a naturally affectionate person.
However, I do know that there are some things I would never be able to share with them — at least to their faces.
And that’s where these journals come in.
That’s where my 11+ years of blogging can help.
Many readers of this blog have commended me for my honesty regarding motherhood. They say that my daughters will appreciate and cherish these thoughts when they grow older.
I want my children to know even more. I want them to learn from my mistakes and my experiences. I want them to see facets of their mother that remained hidden, whether through memory loss, embarrassment, or even plain ol’ choice.
In a post last week, I confessed that I was feeling uninspired as of late. Well, I believe that I have found a solution. Because if leaving behind a part of myself for my kids is not inspiration enough, I don’t know what is.