Hi, my loves.
I'm going to put a trigger warning on this.
Violence
Domestic Violence
Mental abuse
I had a nightmare about my abusive ex last night, and it has sat inside me all day. I was working through my book edits tonight, and I kept feeling sick, and I realised that it was my anxiety. I live with my anxiety. I stopped taking my medication a couple of years ago, so I handle it naturally when it crops up. Nine times out of ten, I don't notice it. I get anxious in crowds, and I hate being outside alone. Other than that, I just have small OCD traits that I can live with. They've been horrendous today too. I found myself taking the lid off my lip balm twice; everything has to be done in even numbers when my OCD flares. I'm not ashamed of discussing this; it's part of me.
So, I wanted to share my dream. I'm hoping that writing it down gets it out of my head. I need to move on from this, and the only way I can think of doing that is by taking it out of my mind.
So, once again, I'm warning for triggers.
Please read with discretion.
I dreamt about him last night. Everything I remembered about his face and personality from when we were together was right in front of me. He is my biggest fear, and I didn't even realise it.
In the dream, I was being harassed with phone calls from him. I tried to tell the police, but they paid no attention. It was the same story as when I was living with him. They told me that he was calling my bluff. He kept calling, though. He kept telling me that he was going to kill me. The sound of his voice was chilling. I've not heard it in such a long time, but hearing it again sent me right back to my old life.
In the dream, it was Halloween. I was driving around my home town, oddly enough. There was a house that was decorated amazingly, and we were staring at it in awe. When we arrived home, it was to a home I didn't recognise as any I'd lived in before. We were very quickly aware of people being in the house, and panic set in. He called me again and told me that he was going to kill me. There was an odd reference he kept making. He kept saying that he was going the find a buttercup (the flower) and put it on my neck after he'd slit my throat. I was hysterical because I could see his silhouette outside the frosted glass of my front door. Dan was dealing with the other people in the house who were his friends, and I was in the living room on my own. I forgot how big he was until he came through the door; he always towered over me.
I begged and pleaded with him before grabbing a kitchen knife. I was hoping that the knife would scare or deter him. I was taken back to seeing a part of him that I saw many times before, the side that coexists with his everyday personality. He has two sides to him, and once he has flipped the switch, it's hard to get back to the everyday person he portrays himself as. I begged him not to hurt me. He kept coming for me, backing me onto the sofa, so I was sitting, and he was standing over me. The paralysing fear I'd felt so many times before came back. He also had a knife, and he began taunting me with it. He swiped it at me, and I kept moving, but it was catching my skin. He found my reaction funny. He would often ridicule me when I cried or when I'd react in fear to him. Before he could catch me with his blade again, I pushed my knife into him. I felt every bit of resistance there was as it travelled through his flesh. I felt the knife slice through him. It was so real. The look in his eyes tore me apart. He was so hurt that I'd stabbed him, so betrayed. Something broke inside him. Just as Dan came into the room, he picked me up and pushed his knife through my neck, pinning me to the wall behind me.
I woke up.
My heart was hammering in my chest, and my hair was stuck to my face. I instinctively searched the room to check he wasn't there. A part of me was convinced that this was an omen or warning. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm my body. I haven't had a nightmare in a long time. The last bad one was in 2018, not long after I met Dan. I've had a couple of little ones since then, but this one was so real. The details I remembered made it feel so much more real. I remembered the look in his eyes; it was the same look he got when he switched to his other side. I remembered the state of mind he was in; it was the same state of mind he would get into when we'd argue. I felt like I was inferior all over again. I felt tiny in his shadow. I was so angry with myself too. Why had I felt sad for him? Why did part of me feel bad when he looked like he felt betrayed by me? My mind went straight back to victim survival mode, and I automatically felt sorry for him. Like so many times before, I was ready to try and make things my fault.
Even after all the time that has passed, he still lives in my brain.
He haunts my dreams, and I can't do anything about it.
Will this be my normal forever?
Will I always wake up, searching the room for him?
Will every bump in the night automatically make my mind think of him?
I convince myself that I've closed that chapter of my life, but every so often, I get a reminder that I can never truly close it.
Why am I sharing such a raw part of myself?
I am a chronic over-sharer, and I feel like my story will be similar to so many others. I'm not the first or the last who will have their dreams stalked by their biggest fear.
He terrifies me, and I hate it.
I also hate that I will be sleeping with my pepper spray next to my bed and the windows locked tonight.
My brain is damaged, as is my body. I hate that he scares me, but I don't wish it never happened.
I am me because of the way I chose to put myself back together.
I am flawed. I am broken. I am damaged. I am also alive, successful and living my authentic life. I have compassion for people, and I love hard. I don't believe I would be that person if I hadn't been broken.
So, I'm sharing this, hoping it helps someone feel less damaged or broken.
I hope your dreams as peaceful tonight; I hope mine are too.
Never apologise for the way you chose to fix something that someone else broke. Surviving isn't black and white. The part that comes after surviving is often the hardest part.
L
x