Nightmares
It happened again last night - demons dragging me from my sleep. They torment me...pulling up vivid memories from my past and crafting new stories, stories that while not true, are based around reality. I wake and my husband holds me close and whispers, "It's okay, it's over now."
But in my heart, it's not okay.
It's not okay, because it's not over. The dream is over, but the feelings are not - the feelings of powerlessness, of fear, of being controlled. The feelings of utter worthlessness, of deep hurt. But intertwined with them are new feelings - anger, sorrow, sadness deeper than I can describe.
I wish I could wish it away - this torment that seems to loom over me. I wish I could "just" forgive and let it all go. But I have forgiven, and it's still here, still lingering in my life. The pain doesn't hurt any less, maybe it even hurts more.
I long for restoration, for peace, to not have to look to others to fill that role in my life. I long for things to be different, for my reality to be different. But I think at this point, I am realistically realizing it may never happen. Until he chooses otherwise, our relationship is broken.
I've forgiven. I've tried so hard to forget. I've thrown myself at his mercy and hoped for some beautiful kind of restoration to come. I've made myself vulnerable.
And each time, it gets thrown back in my face.
You're never good enough.
You can't please me.
You are not smart enough.
You haven't done enough.
And it all just seems to boil down to this: You aren't enough.
So I get up and try again - try to become who he wants me to be, try so desperately to, just for one moment, feel like I am worthy of his acceptance as a person.
But I fail. I do something silly. And the words spew out yet again - you're not enough.
I'm tired of trying, of wishing, of hoping. I'm tired of trying to be something or someone I'm not in hopes of receiving acceptance and love. If it hasn't come in twenty-seven years, I am starting to doubt it will ever come.
The pressure is gone. I don't have to be who he wants me to be any more. I can be me.
I just wish the nightmares, the past, could be gone too. Someday - I hold on to that hope.
But in my heart, it's not okay.
It's not okay, because it's not over. The dream is over, but the feelings are not - the feelings of powerlessness, of fear, of being controlled. The feelings of utter worthlessness, of deep hurt. But intertwined with them are new feelings - anger, sorrow, sadness deeper than I can describe.
I wish I could wish it away - this torment that seems to loom over me. I wish I could "just" forgive and let it all go. But I have forgiven, and it's still here, still lingering in my life. The pain doesn't hurt any less, maybe it even hurts more.
I long for restoration, for peace, to not have to look to others to fill that role in my life. I long for things to be different, for my reality to be different. But I think at this point, I am realistically realizing it may never happen. Until he chooses otherwise, our relationship is broken.
I've forgiven. I've tried so hard to forget. I've thrown myself at his mercy and hoped for some beautiful kind of restoration to come. I've made myself vulnerable.
And each time, it gets thrown back in my face.
You're never good enough.
You can't please me.
You are not smart enough.
You haven't done enough.
And it all just seems to boil down to this: You aren't enough.
So I get up and try again - try to become who he wants me to be, try so desperately to, just for one moment, feel like I am worthy of his acceptance as a person.
But I fail. I do something silly. And the words spew out yet again - you're not enough.
I'm tired of trying, of wishing, of hoping. I'm tired of trying to be something or someone I'm not in hopes of receiving acceptance and love. If it hasn't come in twenty-seven years, I am starting to doubt it will ever come.
The pressure is gone. I don't have to be who he wants me to be any more. I can be me.
I just wish the nightmares, the past, could be gone too. Someday - I hold on to that hope.
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