The Dream

24 Mar

Yesterday was a hell of a day. The emotional rollercoaster was way too bumpy and curving. It made me feel sick. After sharing a bottle of wine with my husband after the kids went to bed, I went to bed.

In that sleep, I dreamt.

There I was, with a little baby girl in my arms.  I knew she was mine. I could see the curl in her blonde hair and the kissable little lips. The look in her eyes of total trust, and my heart was hers. I looked around and found myself in a precarious situation. I was at point A but I had to get to point B and there was no straight line to get from one to the other. I had to manage my way through twists and turns, all sorts of dangerous obstacles.  I held my baby close, and I went for it. She was fine. She thought we were playing a game, her trust never breaking. I was scared. Things started moving under my feet and I had to make a move before we both went down to our doom. Leaping over things, tucking and rolling, my heart racing. When I looked down at her face,  I felt nothing but pure love and joy. I would do anything to protect her. I would save her, I would save myself because she needed me.

I made it to point  B.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm. I wrapped you arms around my husband and told him that I dreamt that I had a baby daughter, and that she was beautiful. But that statement didn’t seem right. I took a minute and thought about it.

That baby girl was ME. I was protecting myself. The child that was hurt so many years ago, I was making sure that she was not going to get hurt now. Maybe I dreamt this because I can see myself on a new journey to discover myself again, preparing myself to go through the emotional pain again by retelling my story, or even just telling the whole entirety of my story to someone. That baby girl, the innocent one is still there, still inside. This also tells me that I still have some memories locked away somewhere. Something more hidden to prevent further injury.

That baby girl is beautiful. She is innocent. The part of her that grew, that endured the humiliation, the pain, the subjectification, she grew to be me. I don’t want her to see it. I want to protect her from the nastiness of the human race, I do not prevent her to see beauty, the innocence is still there in times of wonder and joy and when something is beautiful, I am her when I am doing a good deed and experiencing something truly wonderful with my children. We all have moments like that, the wonder, the awe and the complete joy that comes with certain situations and experiences. With my disorder, it puts these feelings almost at a halt. I revel in it when the feeling comes.

It is a tight rope that I walk. A constant balancing act.

I can’t wait until I can get down. I can’t wait until I am a whole person again. Until I can feel things and let things happen.

Not right now but soon. For now it’s only a dream.

 

 

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