Good morning, loves. I'm very excited to do yoga at 11, it's been a few days. It's all good, though. If I do it today and tomorrow, I'll still have made it 4 days this week. I find that, so far, my practice alternates. I'll have a great week -- 5 days -- then a slower week, 3 or 4 days. It's okay, though. Noticing without judging is good for me. Becoming aware of my triggers this week has been helpful in regards to parenting, as well. It really demonstrates how it's rarely ever really about the child at all.
For example, one of my triggers is when Tristan walks out the door before me and doesn't wait. I get angry. Why? Because I worry that he will be out of my sight for one minute? And that I will not be in control of the situation? And he might do something, and I won't be able to stop him? Or someone may abduct him? Jesus Christ, the child is 8 years old! At 6, I was walking home from school alone. Granted, things have changed since then. But what gives me so much anxiety about him going from the apartment to the car without me? It almost strikes a fear of loss/abandonment part. What if I lose him. As soon as he's out of my sight, I panic that I'll never see him again. Is that his problem? Or mine?
So, PTSD. I was analyzing my dream yesterday at work. Really, it was so rich with symbolism that I had a lot to work with. Walls. And attics. And hidden rooms. One thing of particular relevance that I should have mentioned is that before I went to bed that night, I had checked my "Other" messages folder on Facebook and seen a message. From him. I mean, it's no big deal, right? Just a stupid Facebook message. Last year, he called me right around Sienna's birthday. It was maybe a 2 minute conversation and he promised he'd never contact me again. But for days after that, I had nightmares.
One was me running into my old bedroom at my parents' house, trying to hold the door closed. I was starting to realize that I couldn't hold it closed forever and I had nowhere to go. In another dream, I was in a trailer with some people and someone was coming after us and I had to hide under the trailer. The person was coming for me and I felt that the people who lived in the trailer were irritated that I had brought drama to their lives. I had a lot of dreams of being chased and running into a room, just in time, closing the door behind me. I had one where that girl and I (my other self or spirit guide or whoever) were in a kitchen and he was coming after us, so we ran and he was chasing and closing in on us, so finally as we were trying to escape up a hill, stabbed him. That was the closest I have ever come to violence in a dream. I felt a little dirty when I woke up.
What am I afraid of? I'm safe, he can't get me. Except when it's dark, and I'm alone, and I hear a twig snap. Doesn't a part of me expect to look over my shoulder and see him there? Every time I open the door, doesn't a part of me expect to see him waiting out in the hallway with his ski mask on? Every time I walk across a dark parking lot, doesn't some part of me feel like he's somewhere, watching me? Whenever I drive, don't I subconsciously fear that he is following me?
Now, here's the thing. I'm going to be very frank and candid. I feel like I didn't explain this side of things very well in my blog while all of this was occurring because I was ashamed and embarrassed. But, either by nature or my some psychological perversion sustained by some childhood trauma, I have always preferred to be submissive. I have always been excited by the helpless feeling of being dominated, and have enjoyed being "taken". I'm sorry, this may be more than you want to know about me. But it's relevant.
The thing is, the line between fantasy and abuse became pretty blurred in my relationship with Noe. I did want to be held down. I did want him to be rough with me. But only when I actually wanted it. I felt like he could tell the difference when I said no and really MEANT it, versus when I said no and wanted him to do it anyway. How guilty is he, then?
When I called the police after the ski mask incident, and they found him, he claimed that he had done it because I liked it that way. He was trying to act out a role playing rape fantasy. I felt very guilty. Was it my own fault? But while he was there, I was crying. I used to try to use crying as a way to signal to him that I was NOT on board. I begged him to stop. I told him I'd call the police. Then he acted surprised when I did! I think, though, it was a little of both. He knew when no meant no, but he used my fondness for domination as an excuse to disregard my boundaries and plead ignorance later. There was the time he held me down and continued to hit me with the belt because I was trying to leave him and he claimed I just needed to "calm down". What could I have said to the police? How embarrassing. Yes, my boyfriend just spanked me repeatedly with a belt. Good lord. I remember when I used to come home from work and walk into my apartment, and he'd be there, just waiting. Even though I had locked the door in the morning. And he refused to leave. When he followed me all the way from 68th street McDonald's to my new apartment and I didn't even know until the next morning when I found a rose INSIDE my car. All the times I'd tell him to stop, and then just go limp as a noodle and check out mentally. I was like a corpse, and he still didn't stop. He had to know I wasn't enjoying it. He had to know.
So for all the things I could forgive him for, because maybe it was a misunderstanding, maybe he truly thought I was enjoying myself when I wasn't -- there are plenty of other things that he had no excuse for. Choking me when I was pregnant almost to the point of passing out. Showing up at my apartment at 5 AM and banging on the door after he promised he'd never come over. I tried to act calm, and I never thought any of it bothered me. When I read that message on Facebook, I didn't really think it bothered me. Inside, I don't think I feel these things. I don't even acknowledge them. Where did the memories go of the things that happened while my mind went somewhere else?
From Dream Moods:
To see an attic in your dream represents hidden memories or repressed thoughts that is being revealed.
Hahaha! So, I just went to take a screen shot of the message (it was from a person with the name "El Unico" and the profile had been deleted so there was no picture) and I saw that now the profile has been reactivated and it wasn't even him! It was some dude I was talking to on a dating site a looooooooooooong time ago that I never even met. The message said, "Haha it's crazy how I run into you on facebook without even meaning to... I'm sure you remember me... Sorry but I felt like messaging you... I hope you've been okay.. Take care of yourself"
Woah. Don't I feel ridiculous now.
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