It
has been a really rough week for me this week. Monday I called in to
the office and took an FMLA day, same thing with Friday. I’m not
sleeping well at all. For my three “Off days” I couldn’t even tell you
that I got decent sleep then, and usually I sleep better when I know I
have no obligations the next day.
I
can go to bed and do my normal routine, shower, turn down the lights,
meditate, cuddle with the puppy, and take all my prescriptions for
sleep, yet somehow I end up staring at the ceiling all night. The big
sleep eludes me. I can catch an hour or two here and there, but to get a
solid 7 or 8 in a row is totally beyond me at this point. I can be so
tired I can’t keep my eyes open, but the minute I lay down in bed my
mind is racing and I can’t stop my thoughts or calm them down enough to
be able to fall asleep. I can do all the relaxation exercises and
meditation I want, but I’ll still just stare up at the ceiling most of
the night. Wednesday night, going into Thursday morning, I didn’t even
get ten minutes. I laid there and laid there. Forever resisting the urge
to get up and pee because I’m convinced I’m too tired and lazy and that
I’ll just fall back asleep, but the relief never comes. Eventually I
give in and get up to pee. I return to bed only to repeat
the cycle until about 3 am, when I decide it’s useless and get up to
watch Star Trek and enjoy a cigarette.
“Baby,
you’ve been up this whole time?” my beau asks as he sleepily sits up on
the couch, waking upon me changing Netflix from “Are you still watching
Futurama?” to Star Trek. He usually sleeps part of the night on the
couch and part in the bed. I don’t mind. As long as he’s comfortable he
can sleep wherever. A trait I greatly envy.
“I’ve
not even had ten minutes,” I reply, exhaling smoke out of my nose as I
pull a quilt over my lap and prop the lazy boy chair back. I can hear
crickets chirping outside the window, their constant noise as a comfort
to me only to be had in those warm summer months. I tried to enjoy their
noise as I miss it during the winter. I remember to try to stay in the
moment. It is summer, I’m in my hometown, living with my beau, it is
2014 and I haven’t been in that awful place for three years. Going
through all my grounding exercises proves to be fruitless. I don’t think
I’ll get to sleep at all tonight.
When
I do seem to catch some rest, I feel like I have the same dream over
and over again. It’s becoming more and more disturbing, because I know
what happens in the dream but for the life of me I cannot change the
outcome, and in my mind in my dream I’m struggling and screaming, but
when I open my mouth there is nothing but a whisper of air that comes
out, completely inaudible. According to the beau, I mumble in my sleep
and roll around a lot. If he happens to touch me accidentally or even to
give me a kiss or something, I’ll immediately shoot up in bed, wide
awake. Apparently even to him I’m not getting any rest.
I
think the dreams are worse than the insomnia. I'm in my tiny little
blue two-seater hatchback. I've since gotten rid of. I'm driving across a
sunny Texas landscape, four empty lanes of wide open highway ahead of
me. The engine is purring, but struggling to get up to highway speeds.
My foot is to the floor pushing the accelerator, but the car only slowly
builds up some speed. Semi trucks and other drivers are passing me at
frightening speeds, they are just a flash before they're gone and out of
my sight. I try to check the passing signs to see if I'm headed in the
right direction, but whenever I look, the words seem jumbled or I don't
recognize any of the town names.
Sometimes,
just peering into the sunny landscape a bright light blinds me and I
can't even see to drive, so I slam on the brakes with my hands covering
my eyes to try and see beyond the light. It's impossible. My eyes water
and I start to become anxious upon realizing I don't know where I am or
where I'm supposed to go. I'm seeing some landmarks. I'm not sure if
they're from home or Texas or I've dreamed them but they seem to be
leading me in the right direction. As I'm driving, I notice my gas gauge
is slowly ticking down to the red line. I need to get off this
interstate and find a gas station so I begin to slow the vehicle and try
to change lanes to get to the exit and access road. Cars are still
passing me at lightning speed. I think my car is the slowest car in the
world, according to this dream.
As
the CRX lumbers up the hill to the access road from the freeway, the
car begins to sputter as it's out of gas. But of course, there is no
station in sight so I continue down a block to find one. At this point
I'm panicking about the gas and because I'm lost. I decide to turn a
corner. And another, and another. Where are all the damn gas stations??
The light still hurts my eyes as I try to open them into the smallest
slivers imaginable but the light is still too bright. I'm fumbling in
the glove box for my sunglasses. But if I put my sunglasses on, then I
can't see to drive! I can't win in this dream.
But
look! At the end of the block! There is a gas station! But it's also
the gas station next to the ex's apartment. I've been driving all this
way and I've STILL not gotten away from him?? How can this be? I saw an
exit for my hometown right down the freeway! How am I still here?!? So
I'm panicking in my dream and usually this is the point where I'm so
upset in my dream that I wake myself up, or the dream starts all over
again. No matter how often I try to change the outcome it's like I'm
stuck and once I realize what I'm doing it's all over and no matter what
I do I can't change the outcome and I'll always end up outside his
apartment building. I wake up in a cold sweat of reality and try to
catch my breath. My adrenal glands pumping away, apparently my lizard
brain perceived trouble in that horrible nightmare. I lay back, adjust
my pillow, roll around a few times and start to count my breaths. If I
fall back asleep it's only a momentary victory, as the dreams seem to
continue all through the night.
Another dream I
keep having deals a lot with the light in my eyes again. I feel the
cold, smooth cement floor under my cheek or under a foot. I try to move
or open my eyes but I'm blinded by a massive light when I open my eyes.
It's so bright it hurts. I can't feel much of my arms or legs but I feel
very trapped. What little I can see, peering through squinted eyes only
further onsets the pangs of fear building up in my guts. White sheets,
white mattress, white pillowcase, cold gray poured cement. Beige walls
and a far away ceiling. I focus on the ventilation ducts running along
the side of the wall. Anything to distract myself from the inevitable.
I'm paralyzed and I can't move to even get comfortable. The edge of the mattress sits on my throat at a distressing angle, if much pressure were applied I could easily be choked. I feel his weight on me and the rough stubble of his face on the back of my neck. He feels like sandpaper, his hot breath reminiscent of snot, cheap rum and camel lights. The heaviness of his body and the rough breathing pushes my throat further into the mattress and pushes my temple into the cement, and the top of my head into the wall. He mutters disgusting things about how sweet he thinks my ass is and how good I'm behaving. I am crying, tears are running down my face as the pain builds in my ass with every thrust. I try to scream out but when I open my mouth nothing comes out, not even a whisper. I can't move, I can't get away. I struggle to keep my head positioned where I can breathe, but the force of him keeps knocking me around and begin to feel fuzzy and breathless. I just lay there and hope that he finishes soon. Feeling so absolutely helpless, worthless and unloved. My mind wanders to death. "I want to die" I start to scream. But to no avail only a whisper comes out. By this point the panic in my is to such a high and my adrenal glands are screaming at the rest of my body that I'm jerked wide awake. As if someone dumped me into a cold bath. Reality a welcome relief.
I'm paralyzed and I can't move to even get comfortable. The edge of the mattress sits on my throat at a distressing angle, if much pressure were applied I could easily be choked. I feel his weight on me and the rough stubble of his face on the back of my neck. He feels like sandpaper, his hot breath reminiscent of snot, cheap rum and camel lights. The heaviness of his body and the rough breathing pushes my throat further into the mattress and pushes my temple into the cement, and the top of my head into the wall. He mutters disgusting things about how sweet he thinks my ass is and how good I'm behaving. I am crying, tears are running down my face as the pain builds in my ass with every thrust. I try to scream out but when I open my mouth nothing comes out, not even a whisper. I can't move, I can't get away. I struggle to keep my head positioned where I can breathe, but the force of him keeps knocking me around and begin to feel fuzzy and breathless. I just lay there and hope that he finishes soon. Feeling so absolutely helpless, worthless and unloved. My mind wanders to death. "I want to die" I start to scream. But to no avail only a whisper comes out. By this point the panic in my is to such a high and my adrenal glands are screaming at the rest of my body that I'm jerked wide awake. As if someone dumped me into a cold bath. Reality a welcome relief.
I'm
so fucking sick of playing the victim. It's encroached on every single aspect of my life. Three years ago this took place and
I'm still having waking nightmares about it. Fuck him for taking up this
much head space. Fuck that I have been through countless hours of
therapy just to be able to function and hold down a normal fucking job.
I'm angry and I do not know how to channel this rage properly. Some
nights I get no sleep. I think it's only fueling the madness because now
I'm starting to get panic attacks about going to sleep at night. Then, I
stay up too late and I'm an anxious mess the next day at work because
I'm so tired that I can barely function. My stomach hurts from the lack
of sleep and the constant anxiety. My stomach hurts most of the time,
really, but it's worse when I haven't slept. I hate thinking that I was
preyed upon and that I fell victim to a fucking narcissistic asshole
rapist for the sake of thinking it was a normal, loving relationships.
I
think my parents are partially to blame. One's an alcoholic narcissist,
the other is an enabler. So I was never raised to see those red flags
in toxic relationships. I thought it was normal to have fits of rage
every morning because something didn't go right in the narcissist's
universe. So when someone came along and told me they'd be good for me,
"treats me well" as I knew it at the time, and was willing to spend
money on me of course I jumped at the chance. I was stupid and naive,
but I was also very very broke, on the verge of being homeless, and very
very unhappy, isolated from all family and friends, and desperate for
any kind of connection to another human being. Looking back I was so
fucking stupid. I hate myself for all those decisions I made. But at the
time there was no talking me out of anything, when I made up my mind I
did something about it.
