sleep (or lack thereof)
I am done trying to figure out why some nights are better than others. For the past ten years now I have gone through the entire scale, from self-mutilating in my sleep, to waking up a little shaky. The first time I ever experienced a significant amount of time without nightmares was when I lived with Michael. Sure, I had the occasional one or two, but for the most part I was getting deep, sound sleep. Ever since moving out it seems to fluctuate: some weeks are horrible, others are completely nightmare free. Of course, some of this has been due to events taking place, but some hasn’t. All week I’ve had really fucked up nightmares and as much as I try to shake it off and carry on with my day, I can’t. It’s not easy enough to do that. Everything is too heavy on my mind and I’m distracted to the point where it’s keeping me from focusing on anything.
This morning was bad. I’ve always had very vivid, very realistic dreams and waking up is never an easy adjustment. I am the kind of person that needs to take a few minutes to understand that they are in their bed, in their room, awake, breathing, and perfectly fine.
I don’t know. I think the hardest part when I dream about him is to continuously remind myself that he is no longer a part of my life. I do that, all day, I say to myself He really is gone. He really is gone forever, and you are okay, and Kaylee is okay, and you will never see him again. And I don’t think I know how to cope with that. I think I’m still learning to accept that I do have a life now, that is growing positively, and that my past does not have to continue to be a part of that life. In ways yes, of course…but I mean…I can’t articulate this properly…but I am having a very hard time leaving my past behind me because it has made me so much of who I am? Or maybe because 18 years is the majority of my existence. Maybe when I’m 25 it’ll be easier to accept that I have a different life now. I don’t know. Maybe when I’m 25 I’ll stop waking up to the sound of my own voice, screaming and crying out for help. Maybe when I’m 25, I’ll have enough good memories to cover up all of the bad ones. I don’t know. All I know is that I am unsettled, I am anxious, and I don’t feel well. I need my nightmares to go away.
The trial was January 6th. Just slightly over a year ago. That’s fucking crazy to think about, my god. I don’t know. I need to get past this. Someday.
