Confession for the first day of 2007
I slept last night. I knew, with everyone staying up to ring in the New Year, someone would have to be ready to drive home--so I did what I normally do not--I slept for about seven hours straight. People have asked me how I survive on so little sleep, but the truth is that sleep is not a haven for me. I have not learned how to stave off the nightmares, nor how to separate myself from the feelings that come as I relive nightly the reality of my past. I need to discuss this with Therapist, but don't quite know how to admit to him that I'm afraid of the imaginary horrors I see in my sleep. I realized today that even though the dreams are not real, they represent my reality, and each time they come I relive the pain, disgust, and fear. I have to remind myself that it can't happen to me anymore. I have to try to remember that I have worth, that somewhere inside me is a strong, good person--and that's the most difficult thing. I emerge from the nightmares, sad, spent, fearful. I feel filthy, unworthy to be in anyone's presence, and I ache horribly inside.
When I'm at home and this happens, I run--sometimes more than once, until I'm too tired to think or feel. I didn't have that option today. I cleaned my sister's house, packed my family into the car and went to lunch with AtP and El Veneno. I wanted to be good company. I wanted to enjoy my last day of vacation. Instead I felt like screaming. I can't eat when I feel this way, so of course my surrogate mother, DJ, spent his entire meal asking me if I was okay. How can I answer that question? Yes, I'm fine--I'm just a horrible coward who can't recover from bad dreams. AtP said I was unusually quiet, something for which he should be very grateful, because all I wanted to talk about was how my guts are all messed up, how I resent not being able to sleep like everyone else, how I'm really feeling sorry for myself today.
Now I'm home. I'm contemplating going to sleep tonight and I don't want to. I think maybe my seminary lesson preparation might keep me up. And we've been gone for a few days, so maybe I have some cupboards I can clean out or rearrange. I'm certain I need to stay up and do the laundry. But, truthfully, I really just want to scream and cry for as long as it takes to feel better--but I have a feeling the "feel better" part might not happen for a very long time.