Barely Breathing

I had an absolutely terrifying nightmare last night. I woke up and could barely breathe. It took me a few minutes to come back to reality. It also took me about an hour and a half to fall back asleep. I was terrified to go back to sleep but I knew I had to in order to be able to work today.

It was nighttime. I was in my bed in the bedroom I grew up in, the room in which I was abused for many years. In the room, there were three windows facing the front lawn. My father was outside trying to get inside the house so he could kill me. I watched as my mother went around the house making sure all the doors and windows were locked, but I still felt like he was going to get inside. There was still some way he could get in. I was not safe at all. At one point, he even went up to the three windows in my bedroom to look inside to see if I was in my room. When he did, I was so scared. Petrified. I was curled up in a ball in my bed, trying not to be seen.

What was so scary about the dream was how realistic it was. My home looked the way it did when I grew up. It wasn’t "off" at all. You know how in some dreams, you can tell it’s a dream even while you're dreaming. This nightmare wasn’t like that. 

It was real.

I’ve had nightmares of my father for as long as I can remember. It’s part of having PTSD. A few years ago, I had them so often that I hated sleeping.

I live with PTSD because I have lived a very traumatic life, one in which my life was often threatened by my father. My PTSD affects every part of my life, even sleep.

But I am moving forward. 

When I woke up from my nightmare, I kept telling myself that I was safe, that my father was not going to get me, and that I was far away from him. I also talked to my mother for a little bit last night after I woke up.

Recovering from trauma is difficult, but not impossible.