The other night thunder shook the house
and lightning slashed brilliant blue across the bed.
I slept in bits, my heart raced with each explosion of noise and rain.
And though he held me, my breathing was ragged and exhausted.
I may never sleep through these storms.
Light A Candle by Luci Tapahonso.
Most days, I don't even think of what happened to me. To paraphrase Maya Angelou, I am changed by it, yes, but I am not reduced by it.
But then every so often, on even the sunniest and happiest of days, there are nightmares. They've changed over the years. As my life has grown, so have they. They've gone from him hurting me, to him hurting my family. Those are the worst. I can handle him hurting me. I have handled it. But the nightmares of him hurting my babies? Those are the worst. Those leave me shaking and gasping for air and wondering if they will ever go away? Will I be 80 years old and stilll be shaken to the core by this fear? When I'm 80 years old, he'll be gone, but I wonder if I'll still be afraid?
It's always in the darkest hours of the night. I hate being alone when there's no light outside. Shane plays poker once a month, and I dread those nights. I have my boys with me, but when they're in bed and all is quiet, my mind and heart race. I'm afraid to fall asleep because I don't want to dream. I'm afraid to stay awake because I don't like to look at the dark. I don't hate what happened to me and I don't hate him, but I hate that I can't get rid of the fear.
Will I ever sleep through the storms?