Was it a dream or a bad memory? I awoke about two hours ago with my heart pounding and a blanket of fear weighing heavily upon me that the reality of the scene playing in my subconcious dared me to question its authenticity. It was as if this nightmare dared me to wonder whether or not it was real. With a pounding heart I found myself inwardly strategizing over ways that I could escape. The nightmare was a replay of terrible and abusive events that I found myself in only a few years ago. This weird dream was an ongoing vignette of episodes where I found myself being tormented by a man who was torn between his allegiance to me and a chemical that had him in a deadly grip. Every scene of this nightmare was a bitter memory of those bad nights or days when his addiction made my life a living hell. I've been away from that madness now for some time and now I wonder why are all of these images resurfacing? Why? I sit up in bed and listen to the birds usher in the day and I think maybe just maybe these memories are returning because its time I dealt with them. I've heard his voice since then. We've made amends. I have forgiven him. I think I've forgiven myself, I think. But I have never conquered and quieted the why behind that dark moment in life. After I escaped the abuse and mental torment I found myself returning over and over again. I count myself a somewhat intelligent person so I wonder why did I do that? After completely leaving rather than allowing time to digest the despair I forged ahead into two premature relationships. I was a broken, fragile, easily rattled caricature of a woman at that time. I functioned for all of the world to see as a sweet, kind, caring person. I was responsible and ready to move forward into a committed relationship or so I thought. With every slight action, word or deed that my new love interest would exhibit that remotely reminded me of the disrespect from that abusive relationship I fought. I waged war in my most redemptive Tina Turner defiance. If I did not rebel physically I did so emotionally, financially, verbally or mentally. It was my insane way of drawing a line of demarcation that separated me from a man that I felt was devaluing me in some way yet I stayed hoping for love to be reciprocated somehow. I continued on with this watered down version of rebellion until I fully unwrapped the gift of goodbye and I exited stage left each time. I left hurtful things, people and situations without understanding my contributions to those circumstances which inevitably allowed me to recreate the situation.
So I am fully awake about to have my morning tea and I ponder to myself the meaning of all of this. My boho journey thus far I see is allowing me the necessary time to heal and deal appropriately with my mistakes. I cannot run anymore. I am all out of places to hide. There is no way of escape aside from God. In the silence that is early morning I wonder where will I go from here? The memories, the sound of his voice, the demonic threat to snap my neck in two still resounds with a haunting clarity in my mind. I feel strangely like I am finally ready to sit down with the fear and pain. I do not want to negotiate their presence in my life any longer but rather escort them to the door. They were useful in some ways. I learned that in the presence of fear and pain I can survive somehow. Although there were many moments where I thought I would break, where I would crumble in the grip of every assault against me. I was at times an emotional rag doll a mere breath away from a nervous breakdown but I didn't snap completely. I clung to my one claim to life itself, my son. I survived abuse for the sake of seeing my son again and the promise of the life he would and could live. I wonder this morning if what I am experiencing is a fraction of what a soldier feels once home from a tour of duty in full combat? I learned survival tactics in a hostile environment and once things settled down outwardly in my life the war raged on in my spirit and psyche. My soul was in chaos and now here I am in the quiet and odd calmness that is my parents' home. The memories are resurfacing. The feelings are flooding back in. What to do with them? What to do with them?
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