What horrible things do we do that cause nightmares to haunt us. Hours and hours of horror replayed in technicolor. What mistakes did I make that can be so bad to be treated like this.
The nightmare won’t stop.
A house, a couple dogs, a fleeting moment of happiness destroyed when I walk up the stairs and see him lying in my bed. Picking a huge sore on his face and acting like somehow this is his, this home, this life. He didn’t buy it, but he states he is entitled to it. It just is, there is no debate. I am wrong, I am mistaken, I have no rights, no honor, no hope, no love.
It is raining when I look out the back door to let the dog in. She runs to me smiling and happy. For a single moment, I am smiling and filled with love.
The pup runs by me and into the nightmare. Glass window, beautiful furniture, amazing kitchen. Everything is clean, and picked up and it just is. It will all change and I know it. He is here and I have no way to get out. No way to survive. All I can think about is him picking his scab in my bed. I’ll never sleep there again. I call the police and they laugh. They offer no help saying he can be there if he wants. It is mine I say, we are not together I scream. The officer hangs up on me when I ask to speak to his supervisor.
How much more hopeless can this dream make me feel. I cannot feel anything again. I feel no joy, no love, no hope, no happiness, no sadness. The dogs soft fur is the only thing that still amazes me. She is so soft.
I got up this morning out of fear of sleeping any longer. I am haunted by ghosts that insist I live dead.
You can survive only if you allow nothing to bother you. My only hope is to accept it all as if what I want does not exist. I am back where I started. To nothing. I am nothing. Why does that seem so painfully claustrophobic? I feel like I can’t breathe, like I am choking. Something squeezes a little tighter each day.
I was so hopeful for a good Christmas. So excited for a happy Christmas. Pretending will be the only way that happens. Burying my feelings is the only way. I feel pathetic. Like I should have the power to make things different. I know I can’t. I try, but I fail. That is me, that is my inability to anticipate what will make things work.
My children forgot my birthday. When I tell my mom she has a present coming in the mail, I no longer hear from her. I ask a family member to believe me and they no longer communicate. My god, what is wrong with me. Why am I so bad. What have I done , or what kind of horrible person am I that I don’t see what these people see? It must be really ugly, it must be so bad it is worth destroying someone over and over again and again at every possible chance. What is it? Someone tell me so I can change it.
I am usable, not lovable, just useable. I feel nothing again. Nothing. No fear, no hate, no denial. I am the sick one, but I cannot find help. I laugh about telling hank he will die a lonely old man. What prophetic words for myself.
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