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azdesertroseI have now been awake for something approaching 24 hours. I should be dead to the world, all warm and snuggly in my bed with my honey.
My entire body is stiff and will not relax. My mind will not shut up; thoughts are bouncing around in my head like those bouncy balls I used to buy out of gumball machines when I was a kid and drive my mother insane with by bouncing them in her kitchen while she was trying to cook.
I feel like I'm on the edge of a precipice, like something is about to fall out of me and I'm tensed against it.
I don't think my muscles were this contracted in labor, but it's been almost 16 years so maybe my memory is faulty on that count.
I want to cry but the only tears I get are the tears that come out when I yawn. For whatever bizarre biochemical reason, my eyes tear up when I yawn; everybody thinks I'm crying and I'm not. It's just that I yawned. My eyes have always done that and I've never gotten a satisfactory answer as to why.
Am I avoiding sleep to avoid nightmares? Am I about to remember something new?
I'm safe now. I have a roof over my head and food on my table and a man who worships the ground I walk on.
So maybe my mind is going to release something that it didn't feel safe releasing before?
I got all righteously angry earlier over a post in survivors about "Christians" trying to force a survivor to forgive her assailant. That shit pisses me off but fast.
Then I got all righteously angry about the "false memory syndrome" idiots as you saw in my previous post.
So maybe I'm just too pissed off to sleep.
Not that righteous anger isn't a good cleansing sort of anger, and I tend to get that way in defense of other survivors. I get all mama-tiger and GRRRRRR at the people who would re-victimize someone who's doing his or her damnedest to heal.
(a few hours later)
Now I'm just awake. I'm not as tense as I was, but I still don't feel like I can go to sleep. I'm plenty tired, but it's like I'm afraid to try to sleep.
When I picked up Cliff from work this morning, he was sleepy too, and we got in bed together and snuggled and had sex. For the first time in a while I had to remind myself that it was Cliff touching me and not my dad. I snuggled up to him afterward and smelled him and it was okay. The smell of his hair comforts me; I like his shampoo.
Maybe I'm triggered by all the posts I read in survivors yesterday and that's why I can't sleep. Hypervigilant, which I'm always guilty of.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I was on such an even keel and now it seems to be all out of whack.
I really want a cigarette but I can't have one. I have to learn some other coping mechanism than polluting my lungs.
I thought I was okay.
I thought I was tougher than this.
I want to cut myself but that shouldn't be an option either. While probably less harmful in the long run than smoking, I shouldn't be doing it. But part of me is saying, just a little cut and you'll feel better. A little bit of blood and you'll know you're real.
Part of me wants to scream and cry for no apparent reason whatsoever. I thought I was past the screaming and crying stage.
I know what happened to me. Maybe not all of it, but I know. I own my life. My father molested and raped me for years until I got up the guts to tell my mother what he was doing and she put a stop to that so fast it probably made his head spin. He terrorized me with his alcoholism and unpredictable temper until I was afraid to defy him at all, and then he used his power to take my innocence and shatter my psyche. I know what happened to me.
And I know what my first husband did. He isolated me from my friends, controlled the way I dressed and looked, disparaged my family, and raped me when I was crying "No" and pushing him away. I know what happened to me.
And intellectually I know I didn't deserve it.
But I feel deeply cracked by it all. Damaged down to the core of my self. Broken in ways that may never be fixed.
I wonder why anybody loves me, much less loves me as much as Cliff does, and I'm afraid to fully trust in that love because love and pain walk hand in hand so much of the time.
I tell myself when I'm with Cliff, "He loves you and he won't hurt you. He loves you and he won't hurt you."
Maybe I just need to go hold my teddy bear and have a good cry. Maybe then I could sleep. Right now I feel so upset and panicky that I can't relax enough to sleep.
My entire body is stiff and will not relax. My mind will not shut up; thoughts are bouncing around in my head like those bouncy balls I used to buy out of gumball machines when I was a kid and drive my mother insane with by bouncing them in her kitchen while she was trying to cook.
I feel like I'm on the edge of a precipice, like something is about to fall out of me and I'm tensed against it.
I don't think my muscles were this contracted in labor, but it's been almost 16 years so maybe my memory is faulty on that count.
I want to cry but the only tears I get are the tears that come out when I yawn. For whatever bizarre biochemical reason, my eyes tear up when I yawn; everybody thinks I'm crying and I'm not. It's just that I yawned. My eyes have always done that and I've never gotten a satisfactory answer as to why.
Am I avoiding sleep to avoid nightmares? Am I about to remember something new?
I'm safe now. I have a roof over my head and food on my table and a man who worships the ground I walk on.
So maybe my mind is going to release something that it didn't feel safe releasing before?
I got all righteously angry earlier over a post in survivors about "Christians" trying to force a survivor to forgive her assailant. That shit pisses me off but fast.
Then I got all righteously angry about the "false memory syndrome" idiots as you saw in my previous post.
So maybe I'm just too pissed off to sleep.
Not that righteous anger isn't a good cleansing sort of anger, and I tend to get that way in defense of other survivors. I get all mama-tiger and GRRRRRR at the people who would re-victimize someone who's doing his or her damnedest to heal.
(a few hours later)
Now I'm just awake. I'm not as tense as I was, but I still don't feel like I can go to sleep. I'm plenty tired, but it's like I'm afraid to try to sleep.
When I picked up Cliff from work this morning, he was sleepy too, and we got in bed together and snuggled and had sex. For the first time in a while I had to remind myself that it was Cliff touching me and not my dad. I snuggled up to him afterward and smelled him and it was okay. The smell of his hair comforts me; I like his shampoo.
Maybe I'm triggered by all the posts I read in survivors yesterday and that's why I can't sleep. Hypervigilant, which I'm always guilty of.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I was on such an even keel and now it seems to be all out of whack.
I really want a cigarette but I can't have one. I have to learn some other coping mechanism than polluting my lungs.
I thought I was okay.
I thought I was tougher than this.
I want to cut myself but that shouldn't be an option either. While probably less harmful in the long run than smoking, I shouldn't be doing it. But part of me is saying, just a little cut and you'll feel better. A little bit of blood and you'll know you're real.
Part of me wants to scream and cry for no apparent reason whatsoever. I thought I was past the screaming and crying stage.
I know what happened to me. Maybe not all of it, but I know. I own my life. My father molested and raped me for years until I got up the guts to tell my mother what he was doing and she put a stop to that so fast it probably made his head spin. He terrorized me with his alcoholism and unpredictable temper until I was afraid to defy him at all, and then he used his power to take my innocence and shatter my psyche. I know what happened to me.
And I know what my first husband did. He isolated me from my friends, controlled the way I dressed and looked, disparaged my family, and raped me when I was crying "No" and pushing him away. I know what happened to me.
And intellectually I know I didn't deserve it.
But I feel deeply cracked by it all. Damaged down to the core of my self. Broken in ways that may never be fixed.
I wonder why anybody loves me, much less loves me as much as Cliff does, and I'm afraid to fully trust in that love because love and pain walk hand in hand so much of the time.
I tell myself when I'm with Cliff, "He loves you and he won't hurt you. He loves you and he won't hurt you."
Maybe I just need to go hold my teddy bear and have a good cry. Maybe then I could sleep. Right now I feel so upset and panicky that I can't relax enough to sleep.
