I should really start working on my Contiki 2012 - London-Paris-Rome review, but I had a really bad sleep last night and I need to get things off my chest so they stop haunting me. For the time being anyways.
Sometimes, I have night terrors. I don't always remember my dreams per say, but they usually have a common theme; someone is trying to hurt me. And it's not even always waking up screaming or completely terrorized, that hasn't happened in a while, but I'll wake up every now and then, or every hour, and just be scared in general, and immensely sad.
I am usually pretty open about my past, not that I brag about it, but I am also not ashamed of it. I survived it. I like to say I am a better person for it and I wouldn't be where I am if I hadn't gone through all that. I do not wish violence on anyone, but surviving it, it changes you. Of course, sometimes I have a scared moment, out of nowhere, like, doing the dishes with Rick at home and then he'll just do something like opening a cupboard and for whatever reason, I'll see that as a threat and cower, shriek and cover my face. And then I apologize to him, because he is so hurt by that. It's instinctive. Still.
99% of the time, I act like I'm OK. Of course I am, I survived, and look, I'm stronger because of it. It also makes people who care about me feel better, it reassures them to see that I am OK. Truth is though, sometimes I'm not. I have scars, if not actual physical ones (Thank God for that), I still have scars. The anxiety is only one part of it. Anxiety in general is manageable, if you put the time and energy into it. Night terrors, they're so random and less and less frequent that I don't really worry about them, much. There is one part of it, pretty rare, but that really sticks with me though, I'm not quite sure how to call it, so I'll describe it. It happens in a public place, and my heart stops and I get cold sweat. I don't even know why yet. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see HIM. (If you know me, you know who I mean, if not, let's call him L, because I don't like to say his name. There's power in names. And he has none over me anymore.) Of course, it is never him, I have been lucky enough to never see him again after my father made him leave town, but subconsciously, I recognized something of him, his walk, his hair, his jaw, a laugh, in that random stranger. Just out of the corner of my eye, before I even realize, and my body goes into complete panic mode. That pisses me off more than anything. Because I thought I was stronger than that. Because I really believe that if I was to ever see him again, I would be strong enough to ignore him, pretend I don't know him.
That's a lie. I don't think I'd be able to do that. I'd probably be scared. Not of him, because I will never let anyone lay a hand on me ever again, least of all him. But scared of the memories. Scared of the pain and the hurt those memories bring with them. I really hope that I am lucky enough that the day this happens, if ever, I'll have someone with me, someone that can just hold my hand, that will understand I'm scared, and that it is all I need. To just know I am not alone.
The being alone is another scar of mine, I think. Although this one is not of L's doing alone, it was completed by J after that. Being alone is not necessarily a bad thing, it can even be a choice. I like to say my situation is by choice. And on a twisted level, it is true. I did move 900 km away 5 years ago. And then, I focused more on the language issues and proving to myself I was good enough, than trying to meet people and build myself a network of friends. And then years later, you realize you are basically alone. My English is good enough, sometimes, I do have a great job, I make good money and I even bought a house this year. But as for love, Nada. I'm not always sure if it's about me not trusting a guy not to end up hurting me, or just not being willing to open up enough. I usually think it's simpler to be alone. I have good friends, a good life, that is usually plenty enough for me.
But I have to be clear, they did not win. They might have spent years telling me I was not good enough, that no one would ever love me, but I don't buy it. They did not "break" me. That's one thing I am sure of, I am not broken. I am so not perfect either, but being told I am broken is probably the highest form of insult you can throw at me. Hope is something no one will ever take away from me. You can't survive without hope. I won't be alone all my life. And I know how it's going to happen, it will be unexpected. One step at a time. Feeling lonely once in a while is human nature, no matter how surrounded, we all feel it at times.
I keep talking about surviving and how violence changes you. One thing that never cease to amaze me, is when I talk about it to people who didn't know me back then, or didn't know about this part of my past, can hardly believe it. Because of my attitude now, because I am a happy, sassy, silly girl now. I do take that as a compliment. Because it is not always about surviving, it's about moving past it. I am happy. I am proud of my life and myself (that part is harder to say). It will never happen again, no matter how scared or sad I sometimes get, no matter how badly I want someone to love me sometimes, I know that I am worth so much more.
It's funny how much writing is liberating. I started this post because I had had a bad night, and I was a bit scared and sad. And look at me now, it changed from a sad post to a "I'm proud of myself" post. I am moving past this and that is good. But I also know the anxiety of those years will follow me around for the rest of my life, it's up to me how I deal with it now :)
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