In the last month or so, I’ve been waking up a lot between the hours of 1-3am. It’s not been great. I’ve tried to do lots of things to get back to sleep, or even better get a full straight through sleep, but tonight I woke up just after 1am with a bump.
My subconscious is clearly pre occupied with something and tonight I woke in sweats, having been brought back to 1995, some of the worst years of my life. My Mum was alive again, playing mind games with me the ways I remember her doing it so very frequently throughout my teenage years.
It might sound trivial, but it’s something that sticks with me, emotional turmoil, control, annoying little things she’d do to twist your mind and make you feel like you were going insane. It was horrible, and we had years of it. I had over a decade of it until I decided no more.
Well tonight in my dreams, I was back there – and it wasn’t nice.
I’d gone into my childhood room, and something wasn’t quite right. It was back how I remember it, and It looked like a cleaner (or my Mum) had been in. The room was tidier than I’d left it, the bed pristinely made, not how I’d left it. And on the bed was a blank white postcard, and a pen left by someone else.
The details of the dream are fading, but I remember knowing for sure it was my Mum who had left it there. It was the sort of thing she’d do.
My brain was set into overdrive, thinking to myself, why is this on my bed? What does she want from it? I picked up the postcard and one of the sides had a handwritten number like 962/7893 on it, hand written in my Mum’s hand writing. A code for her to use, to know – stupid bl%%dy numbers that meant something to her but meant nothing to everyone else.
I felt angry, and lost. I was stuck, not knowing what to do next.
Looking at it thinking – does she want me to write to her?! I’ll write to her! I’ll write down everything I can on this little stupid postcard she’s numbered and left me, so she knows it’s from me and from her. And I’ll send it to her so she knows how I feel and what I think. To use her words she’d use to me about me and others I cared about, she’ll ‘get what’s coming to’ her. She’s gone but she’ll get it!
Upset and a bit distraught, I went through to my sister and started ranting at her, shouting through my tormented tears. Trying to get some guidance, some clarity of what this all meant, what I should do. The decision I should make. I had no idea what I should do – what I did know was that I wanted to take control but also give my Mum a piece of my mind.
Then I realised, the answer was to do nothing – rip it up and pretend it never happened. It’s what I should do with all of my bad memories. Don’t play the games. Don’t get involved.
I decided not to play my Mum’s mind game, and I ripped the postcard up and threw it in the bin. If I met her, I’d not talk about it, and neither would she. Glad that I’d taken control and not fallen into the trap she wanted me to – of writing obscenities which she could have used against me. I win. She doesn’t.
Then as dreams sometimes do, it looped again. I was back walking into my bedroom with the uneasy feeling that something was touched or moved by her, something was being controlled by her. The postcard and pen were on my tidy bed again, waiting for my reaction, waiting for my move…
Then I woke up in a sweat… brought back to one of the worst times on my life. A time where everything was nasty, when everything seemed to be a game. A time when I longed for a home and to have a normal life, whatever that meant.
A time where I needed to make the decision what my next ‘move’ in the game would be.
A time when control was everything and I felt like I was nothing and I had nothing. Stuck in my teenage years, years away from being able to have the life I wanted to have. A time when I wanted to run far away, but I knew there was no point and that only time would fix it.
I was 15, and all I wanted was out. Out of my life away from her and away from it all.
But when I woke up in a sweat, and I was home, then I realised I wasn’t there and I wasn’t 15. I was 22 years in the future and a long time ago I’d got my home that I longed for. My home, my job, my partner, my little garden with little solar lights, my Garagym and my life.
My life is full of rainbows and elephants instead of all the bad stuff I’ve tried to move on from and forget about.
She’s gone, and I hope I never meet her or what she did, in my dreams again. No more nightmares. No more mind games or emotional turmoil controlled by someone else. I’m away from it all. Time has fixed it.
Now I’m here and it’s a stark reminder of how good things are now. How good I’ve made them, how far I’ve come and how free I am. She’s gone, and I’m here, living and thriving.
I think I might just have forgotten all of that, and it’s about time I got all of that back and be grateful for it. 🙂 no more games, but plenty sunshine and rainbows to come.
Then this morning, I went out for a run just before 7am. Rain wasn’t forecast, but it was that thick smirry rain that was on. I stood for a few minutes waiting for it to go off. Then decided I’d just go. Running along in my shorts and vest, getting pretty wet – I thought to myself – this is rainbow weather.
And it was, I saw two rainbows in 10 minutes back to 2017, full of rainbows and sunshine.