These Dreams

The nightmares continue.  I think most people wouldn't consider them nightmares.  Short movies in my mind of somewhat ordinary interactions, but the proximity of him, the underlying fear of being walked out on, criticized... is what makes them nightmares.  In the night its happening all over again, its real.  The stress is happening, in real time.  I can't breathe.

It's been 6 months since he walked out of my house, leftover belongings in hand, never to be heard or seen from again.  It took awhile to fully understand what his extreme behavior did to my body, my nervous system.  It took even longer to call it what it is-  emotional abuse.  To occupy the position of the person who loves you most and to also weaponize silence, leave in the middle of the night, scream and yell... the cognitive dissonance is almost incomprehensible.  If he loves me why would he want me to suffer like this?  And if he doesn't love me, why would he treat me so lovingly sometimes?  The perfect recipe to keep your nervous system in survival mode, constantly watching out for the next time I haven't met some unnamed expectation.  Eating at my being.

I know that all experiences are tools for our awakening.  But this recovery has been a rude awakening.  Mornings like this are hard, it's like I'm back with him, trying to prove my worthiness.  I must continue to remind myself that my home is in myself now.  It's safe here.  I'm enough here.  And he's gone.