Well, so much for my plan to spend the day resting the weekend's exhaustion away. Probably for the best - today was not my day for happy thoughts. I haven't had a real nightmare in years but I had one early this morning that was more than bad enough to make up for a few lifetimes of neglect. Things I thought I'd blocked out, things I spent years trying not to think about, trying to forget, things I had honestly forgotten, or buried anyway, in my battle for forgiveness and redemption and the ability to live with my parents without going insane, spread in very vivid color and Dolby Digital Surround Sound across my consciousness. I woke up in a fetal curl so tight and sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, and it took a seeming eternity of terrified seconds before I realized it had just been a dream, this time, and I was awake and 17 and safe. Safer. But still it took a few minutes to stop shaking, and I think part of me is still shaking. I can't think about it - I picked up my pen to write in my dream journal and realized that this was too much. This is the breaking point. I can recover, forgive, get over it. But only if I don't think about it. If I really remember, if the blocking and the burial fail and the look in her eyes and the way she held herself... I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, and yet somehow it's a whole day later, a day spent having fun with Justin, not dwelling, and I can't escape it. And I'm reduced to frailty and the desire to return to that fetal curl or to run far, far away, or to scream at her, something. I hate this feeling. I don't know why now, I don't care, I just can't do this. I can't deal, can't face it, and for some reason today I can't put it away. So I think other thoughts, and those are not helpful thoughts either, and I just want it to STOP. I need... escape. But I can't, won't, do that either. So... Jumbled words and jumbled feelings. Perhaps if I can get to sleep it will go away in the morning.
... design by bri...