I had a nightmare this morning. It actually hadn’t happened in a while, but morning nightmares are a common thing for me. They’re not just dreams, they’re really livid and horrible, so it’s more like a PTSD symptom because they always involve my abusers.
I was in my house with, let’s say, abuser A. I was telling them what my doctor had said about a (real) health condition I have, but thought that I was being completely stupid and a hypocrite. That I was trying to deny what the doctor had really said, and that I shouldn’t be so fucking dumb. That I should grow the fuck up and accept the truth, and stop being so pathetic. It infuriated me because I knew that what I was saying was right and made sense.
That’s when a really recurrent dream theme started unfolding: I was completely furious, and I exploded. I was screaming, punching things, doing everything I could to release my anger, but it wasn’t enough.
Then something else happened, which is also not new: I sat down in my bed and started crying, thinking how nice it would be if they came to me, to embrace me and soothe me. Obviously that didn’t happen, and I told myself “Of course. That’s the type of person who raised me. Don’t expect anything from them.”
Then the rage came back, and I recorded an audio on my phone, saying how much I actually hated them, and that I couldn’t wait till I was out of this fucking house so I could never see them again. I was being honest, for the first time I was expressing my truth to them. But I also knew that that would mean I was going to be kicked out and had to live on the streets.
I left my phone on my room and locked myself in the bathroom. They were still talking about how incredibly stupid I was. I knew that they were on the other side of the door, and I became aware of how terrified I was of them. Of how I was like a fucking animal, imprisoned and tortured by cruel humans.
I also knew that I wanted to punch them, and I was ready to do it if they broke into the bathroom. I realized the level of insanity and abuse I was living.
Then I woke up. My face was hurting a lot, I was probably locking my teeth during the dream, and the feelings always linger for some moments after I wake up.
I think I know why I had it. Yesterday I was really mad because of a similar situation. I was talking about the money I make, and of course they had to make a comment and just express how stupid I am. What they really meant is that I’m pathetic, I have no future unless I depend on them, and that they are so much better than me. I don’t talk to them really often, so whenever they have an opportunity to make themselves feel superior, they’re not gonna miss it. That’s just how their brain works.
Of course I had to just ignore it, and remind myself that it doesn’t matter what their pathetic mouth says. Whenever I feel to much rage and I can’t soothe it, thinking “I really hope they die soon” calms me down.
I wondered if the dream could come true, but I don’t think so. I would back down after arguing a little, because I learned how to repress my feeling around them, and because I don’t want to end up in the street. Also, I don’t think they would take it that far. They are cowards, after all, and they don’t really like confronting people that strongly.
I also thought about the moment in which I wanted them to come soothe me. It made me sad because that’s a reflection of my childhood. I wonder how many times, when I was a toddler even, I needed their comfort but got nothing.
I was reading about attachment a couple of days ago. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I have attachment issues (which they always origin during the first years of someone’s life, with the child-family relationship), and that that’s probably really connected to my BPD symptoms.
Anyway. I just have to keep going, bury my rage around my abusers and hope I can make it out of this fucking house one day.