This week has been a rough week. On top of battling my ear infection, taking care of the kiddos and trying to keep up with house work (bah HAHAHAHAHAHAH) I’ve felt a huge emotional burden as well. Which is odd, because while a whole lot of emotional life changing things have happened in various Februaries through out my life, I’ve dealt with them. This was something else and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure it out for days.
I’ve started having my recurring nightmare again, so I knew it had something to do with my general emotional discombobulation, but even that didn’t make any sense. I know I’ve talked about having nightmares since the first incarnation of this blog, but I don’t think I’ve ever discussed them in specifics.
A highly condensed version is this: someone breaks down my door and threatens me with a weapon. It varies every time I have the dream. Sometimes it’s a gun, sometimes it’s a knife, sometimes it’s a club. I respond defensively matching their firepower with a similar weapon to whatever that particular incarnation brings, we argue, they come at me, I defend myself and then after I inflict a wound or two a look of realization flashes across their face, they apologize and they turn their own weapon upon themselves ending their life. I always try to stop them, but I’m seconds too late.
There has also been a different version entirely that I’ve had a few times, where instead of succeeding in breaking down my door the assailant attempts their suicide in by hanging themselves in the tree out front, except they’re too tall and resort to slitting their wrists scrawling: “you did this” with their blood onto my side walk.
The first version is much more prevelent, and it’s been haunting me for… Jeeze, going on eight years now. I’ve discussed it with my therapist every time it’s come up, and even though I’ve worked through so much of my trauma, my disorders ending up in remission, that dream has remained. It’s gotten much worse in the past three years or so since I began publishing my stories and really working through a lot of my repressed memories.
I’ve always assumed that my dream was a manifestation of a memory I’d repressed, but the longer it’s plagued me, the more obvious it became that simply wasn’t the case. Yesterday, the fog lifted and I was immediately snapped into awareness. It was something I had repressed, but not a memory of a specific event. No, it was a feeling. Well a combination of feelings really. The most prevalent being guilt and regret. Soul splitting, head spinning, regret. It hit me like a ton of bricks as I finally became aware of what my subconscious has been trying to tell me all along, who and what my dream represents.
I’ve fought and conquered so many of my own personal demons, railing against anyone and anything that stood in my way, much as I’ve always done. Unfortunately while getting swept up in fighting with myself and my broken mind I’ve caused a lot of collateral damage for many other people close to my heart. I feel stupid even saying they’ve been close to my heart this entire time, making such a mess of things, but if they hadn’t been I wouldn’t be struggling with guilt and regret.
It’s true, I never set out to be malicious, but opening up my perspective with this recent awakening makes me feel like a horrible human being. Especially since so many people warned me, or tried to get me to be reasonable and I simply wouldn’t. I couldn’t before I was able to purge and begin the healing process. There are scientific based reasons why it happened the way it did, but having even the most valid of reasons, I’m having an awful time allowing myself some grace. It’s one more thing I need to work on. I have an enormous capacity to forgive others for their transgressions against me, but when it comes to myself? Not so much. The self loathing is real!
Currently I want to hide in a hole and disappear coming to the realization that I do probably deserve to get hit by a bus. Not like killed by it, but maybe maimed or hospitalized for a while. I certainly feel like I have in an emotional sense. This hurts, big time.