tears of horror
July 28, 2011
— #addictions, #depression, #keepinitreal, #newlife, #recovery, #shamefull
I lie here awake again. Unable to close my eyes because all I see are nightmares. My mind just won’t let go of memories that I just dont know how to deal with. I feel afraid, but not of sleeping, I’m afraid to close my eyes. I’m afraid to see and relive those moments again. Maybe it’s my subconscious telling me I missed something and when I figure it out then the nightmares will go away.
I dont know. It is a curse that I live with. I hear people say “..well I can sleep at night…” and I envy them. It’s not that I cant sleep because of something I have done. I cant sleep because of things I have seen. Some memories just wont go away. Some dreams never fade.
Ya I have sleeping pills to help me sleep and I do use them as a last minute resort, like when I am up for 2 or 3 nights in a row. I am a recovering addict though and I am not willing to risk my new found sobriety just for a good nights sleep. The way I am approaching this problem is that if I take the sleeping pills, then yes I get temporary relief but in the long run it solves nothing.
I keep trying to get help at the professional counselling services but due to my financial state I am only allowed 8 sessions. Counsellors are not willing to allow me to delve into my true problems and work on fixing my deep wounds because of the time restrictions. Instead they prefer to put small bandaids on my gaping wounds, smile and then ask “are you all better?”. I understand their hands are tied. Who wants to help me figure out my muddled head for free. I wouldnt! I know how messed up I am in my brain.
I do have to mention here that there is one exception to this rule. I recieve counselling at an agency called S.A.S.C. I feel greatly priviledged to be allowed to attend there as they tend only to deal with women at the moment (and their waiting list is MONTHS almost YEARS long). The help I recieve there is amazing. There is also no time limit.
Anyway back to what I was saying. I need a way to empty my brain of memories. Someone to just sit and listen that wont judge or be shocked by what I have experienced, someone that will not feel pity or feel sorry for me in any way, Someone that can be open to the fact that the way they experienced life is not the way the everybody experiences life, someone that can look objectivly at my past and help guide me to where my wrong thinking starts so that I can start to impliment some beneficial changes to the way I think and process these memories.
I dont know…I dont think I will ever be free of my memories but perhaps I can learn to not allow them to have such control over me. I dont want to walk into a ‘time warp’ every time I try to sleep and be brought back to a places that I dont ever want to revisit.
I am just as unsure about my past as I am about my future.
I can not allow myself to waiver though. I will figure out a way to give myself complete peace of mind that does not involve drugs, alcohol or other mind altering alternatives. It will probably take years to do but I will do it, eventually, but for tonight I lie awake with my eyes open staring into the dark. I will try to give my memories their own space and time. Maybe if I give them their own time then they will allow me to rest.
I’m tired of waking up shaking with tears in my eyes. I tired of feeling the horror and terror. I’m tired of allowing these things to have control over me.
I lie awake dreaming of days gone by. The people. The faces. Their last quiet sighs.
I remember quite well as I held in my arms, their last vestage of life, as they let go I cried.
But the ones I remember most well in my mind are the ones that left angrily, hurried or scared.
I try to block out. From agony I flew. The fear and the loathing. The horror I knew.
So into the drugs, I go sell my soul, trying to hide, if truth will be told.
Dont want to remember. Dont want to relive, but memory escapes me and I feel it’s bitter kiss.
Now though I’m sober. No drugs in my life. I try to live daily, to fight a good fight.
The memories remind me, every day of my life, of days that I hid from, of death and of strife.
So now I lie wishing that someone would help, put things in perspective, I can’t do it myself.
But until that sweet moment, when free I can sleep, tears of horror will wake me and my memories I’ll keep.