She Says, He Says and Nightmares

She Says, He Says

Yesterday, I talked about how I found it hard to write a letter to my “innocent” child self…So hard that I was unable to do it. I also have a bit of an issue with the concept  that there was actually an “innocent” child self before having trauma et al.

The only way I have been able to deal with all the bad things that happened to me as a child, is that I have built a belief that I was somehow intrinsically bad/tainted/wrong from the very beginning…That I actually deserved to be ignored by my parents and emotionally abandoned by them (while they favored and gave significant attention to my sibling) that I deserved to be sexually abused, that everything bad in my life has been my fault.  When I think of it that way, then it all doesn’t seem so unfair and it hurts less (well…except for believing I’m tainted…that’s kind of hard to deal with too.) I’ve held this belief for decades…Perhaps even stubbornly held the belief as it has been a lifeline for my coping skills.

But…the Art Therapist doesn’t see it that way.  And he is challenging my very fragile house of cards.  And I think he might be right…But I just can’t shift my thought process.  I think if I try to, I might emotionally implode. And if I can’t shift my thought process without emotionally imploding then I certainly can’t write a letter to my “innocent” child self (Yes….I will be stuck on the Art Therapy Fail for a while.)

I guess this is something I will have to hash out more with the Art Therapist, but I need to wait two weeks before I do it.  He is going on vacation next week and I don’t feel like stirring up big things before he goes.


Of course, I think things are already a bit stirred up as last night I had a nightmare.  I used to have nightmares all the time but that has gotten much better over the past 3 years or so.  I actually used to very vividly remember all the dreams I had, until I started taking Fetzima (an SNRI).  For some reason, for me, a side effect of Fetzima is that I don’t remember my dreams…I can sometimes grasp little wisps of them, but usually even the wisps vaporize before I can catch them.  But last night, I woke up with my heart pounding from a pretty vivid nightmare.  The short version of the dream, was that I was trying to help a man  into my house, but he couldn’t get in (he had crutches and I had stairs) and he was frustrated.  I waved him down the driveway to come in the back door and as he made his way down the driveway, these GIANT black dump trucks came down the driveway to dump gravel.  As the man approached, the dump truck raised it’s bed and in so doing crushed the man…I heard him screaming and then he was silent.  And that’s when I woke up.

Interesting….Trying to let a man in, having barriers, then when he gets to close, he gets crushed….On the heels of the first part of my post, it almost seems like a trust kind of dream about the Art Therapist.  I will have to share that with him next time I see him.

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