Potential Thought-Train.

I don't know where this entry is going to go. Given my state, it might become a thought-train. Be on your guard.

Y'know, fear is a funny thing. I'm normally a very squeamish person who panics and behaves like a child at the sight of needles; somebody who gets nauseous at the sight of bodily fluids/organs/etc. My surgery had me face all those fears. Out of eight needles I received during my stint in the hospital, I only panicked at four. The first four. (The second one was a shot in the leg that hurt like hell and left a bruise.) The last four, I willingly offered up my hand and never flinched, winced, or cried. In fact, I giggled through one of them.

Tonight, Mike had gone to bed and I needed my drains emptied. As Mama cannot stand the sight of the drains, I was on my own. So I handled it, by myself, flawlessly, not even bothered by it. Any other time, I'd have squirmed and flinched and screeched my protests and refusals.

I'm horrified of rodents -- especially anything that resembles a rat -- and will either screech or freeze up if I see one. A while back, Mama and I were sitting at the table when she turned pale. I asked what it was, to turn around and see a huge rat hanging onto a pole just beyond the window (which was three feet from me). I calmly got up, put myself between Mama and the window, so that she wouldn't have to see it, and managed to get her calm enough to leave the room. As she was leaving, I stared at it while it stared back at me, and I never flinched. The second she was out of the room, I backstepped and felt my skin crawl.

When our beloved cat Snoopy was being "attacked" by our three large dogs, I was petrified, as was Shelby. Shelby locked up and couldn't/wouldn't move. The next thing I knew, I'd thrown open the back door and launched myself into the pack of dogs, kicking and pushing them away as I grabbed Snoopy and started running towards the safety of the house. I had dogs jumping and snapping at me as I ran. The whole thing felt like it took forever, but I know it was only a minute at most.

Apparently, when people around me are afraid, my own bravery increases by about five hundred percent. If somebody around me is afraid, suddenly I seem to know no fear, and can stand up tall and act calm and collected -- even if it's something I absolutely dread. If I'm alone and a fear of mine rears its head, I'll freeze up, whimper, shiver, cry, and even run/hide. What is it about me that makes me brave when others are afraid? My "want to protect everyone" nature? The human brain -- especially mine -- perplexes me.

Pain is fickle, too. Take my recovery, for instance. I've been doing remarkably well, according to anybody and everybody who's watched my progress from day one. I'm up and mobile, doing a lot of stuff for myself, and forcing myself to start bending and lifting more. When people are watching me, it's as if I never had a major abdominal surgery.

Then I get alone. I get alone and I realize how badly I hurt sometimes. My drains will ache me severely -- sometimes to the point of tears -- my back will pulse and cause me to writhe, and my legs will ache non-stop. All the pain I didn't notice suddenly will flood back, and make me feel like I'm taking a step back rather than a step forward.

I'll do this with just about any form of pain. I'll be fine when people are around me, then I'll get alone and realize how bad things are. Is it that I'm prideful and don't want people to see my weakness? Is it that I don't want people to worry so I subconsciously block out my pain auras, effectively allowing me to look like I'm doing wonderful? It's an up-and-down ride with me, doing so well during the day only to crash hard when I'm alone. Am I doing well or not?

Today I wanted a day alone. I'm normally somebody who wants to be in a crowd -- even though I'm anti-social and probably will never utter a word. I like being around the action and taking it all in. I'm the ever-vigilant observer who likes to analyze things and look for small details. I'm nearly a professional body language decoder, and know so much about the human nature that you'd think I was some sort of psychologist. It was nothing I was born with, but rather something I trained myself to do. And with my semi-psychic channeling, empathy, and visions, studying the nature of humans was never hard for me.

Yet with all of this on my side, how could I not decode why I felt the need for space? I was finding myself disgruntled and irritated when I had anybody in my "bubble." It was so unlike me. However, I had my time to myself, and once I had it, I felt much better and seemed to just bounce right back into the groove of things.

It was probably a good thing I kept my space today -- everybody in the house is mad at everybody right now, with the exception of me. I'm mad at no one, nor is anyone mad with me. Perhaps I subconsciously knew something would occur.

I'm thinking about beginning meditation and self-hypnosis again. I noticed that when I did meditation (which I often did before bed or before naps), my channeling and "seeing" ability were sharper and more improved. I forget why I stopped. Meditation is actually hard to do, but will produce amazing results if you can harness it...

It's how I had the vision of December 11... and that vision was had sometime in July.

And this turned into a pseudo thought-train. For anybody who read this far, I hope this entry wasn't too dull.

And you got another peek into my never-resting mind.