That is the question I think I have lived with all my life. Am I really here? Is this real?
You may think it's strange, but for me... not so much.
I often find myself sitting somewhere suddenly overcome by the weirdest sensation of unreality, and I'm not just talking about when I fall flat on my face in public.
Long ago bad things happened to me. I was just a kid, and these things ultimately shaped my perceptions about myself. It was much easier for me to believe that life wasn't real. These feelings followed me my whole life, and at times I would be smacked full in the face with my very existence.
Weird huh?! Well, right now I am feeling a sense of unreality due to cold medicine..... :))
But a couple of nights ago I was at dinner with my family when I got that strange sensation that I was floating up away from the table and looking down at myself. A near death experience?? Who knows- that bratwurst was a little off..... All I know is I have to practically pinch myself to make me believe it's all real.
I wonder what it's like to have a normal life. Sometimes I wish I knew, and other times I wouldn't trade my life for anyones. I guess we all feel that way sometimes.
What triggered my latest adventure into Unreality Land was a trip to my father's house.
He recently moved back into the house I grew up in in Orange County. I lived there until I was 16, then I moved out to care for a quadraplegic woman- just to get out of that house. I never went back full time after that.
That house is chock full o' memories, mostly of the not so good kind....
People weren't open about things like they are now, and abuse (of any kind) that happened behind closed doors, stayed behind closed doors.
I kind of think our street coined the phrase "dysfunctional". The whole block was that way, I am not kidding. It was too weird. I lived on a culdesac and out of the 16 houses on it, I only remember two that were not nutty.
I am really a miracle in the flesh. I was actually the victim of three, yup, three botched abduction attempts. All three times were by a man in a car who tried to get me to get in with him. The last time, the man actually followed me almost all the way home, me yelling at the top of my lungs at him the whole time. That was the first time I ever said a swear word. I told him I'd get in the car when Hell froze over. I was coming home from yet another trip to the pharmacy for my mother's headache medicine.