The hardest part of this whole journey is the nightmares.
Thursday night, I had a dream that threw me. By that I mean it threw me off course. It threw me to the ground. It threw me in front of a train of emotions.
By the time I was getting dressed for work I was already a hot mess. By 10:00am I’m trying to figure out how I got so low in just a few short hours. By noon, I’m seeing my therapist for the third time in one week.
Then begins the snowball effect. The guilt and shame are overwhelming. Which causes more depression, which causes more guilt and shame.
By the time it’s bedtime, I’m dreading and postponing more sleep. I wake up every hour because I can’t allow myself to get into a deep sleep.
Then exhaustion sets in until you can no longer stay awake. Sometimes days. Then a new nightmare. And guess what? You are back in the same cycle.
Most of my abuse occurred during the night or very early morning. It seems cruel that currently the nights are hell. It seems like God would give me a break.
I’ve recently heard every sleep and anti-nightmare recommendation from my friends and loved ones.
I’ve done everything spiritual short of garlic around my neck.
Last night I dreamed of someone carrying a 5 year old’s lifeless body out of a house. As I’m watching from the distance, I realize the little girl is me. Is this a good dream? Is this a bad dream? It’s all in the interpretation right?
Every dream is in living color. Every dream is loud and clear. Every dream seems more significant than the last.
Before August of last year, I had dreams of flying. Dreams of laughing. Dreams of family and friends. Pleasant things. Happy things.
Several people have said to me, “Remember it’s just a dream”. That’s like saying, “They are in a better place,” when someone passes away. It makes sense and is correct but doesn’t do anything to comfort.
I have spent the whole weekend in isolation and numbing. Instead of telling my friends and family that I’m struggling, I say nothing. Enter more embarassment and shame.
I’ve been wide awake since 4 am and hating myself for wasting my weekend on shame.
I’m going to work because its familiar and comfortable. I’ll stay until I’m falling asleep at my desk. I’ll come back home and try not to dread another night in prison. It is the only description I can give to my bed and bedroom.
Enter more shame.
Until next time – I am being MJ everyday.