My dreams….I hate them. I don’t know how else to put it. I dread going to bed every night. I long to know a “good night’s sleep.” A good night of sleep, for me, is more than 90 minutes. A good night of sleep is not waking screaming or reliving–not waking in a cold sweat, fearful and panicking.
Lately, things have changed. I’ve noticed that some of the mechanisms I’ve put in place have increased my sleep to around 4-6 hours. I try and nap in the afternoons, but even then, restful sleep can be a challenge. The effects of prolonged abuse is something that never leaves you. I have had doctors and therapists and preachers tell me that is a negative, defeatist outlook. But they couldn’t know that it is simply my current reality. It’s not a reality that I am planning to cling to, but it is currently what I have to deal with.
The greatest step forward I took in my journey happened when I stopped looking for my miracle and started looking to become my miracle. I started to believe that each day I would discover one more tool that would help me live a wonderful life. One of the greatest tools has been learning to manage my need for sleep and to face the demons that wait for me in my dreams.