A Living Nightmare

• December
• 30

6:00 am Mental Illness, Survivors of Abuse, The Friday Files

The Friday Files continue …

If you’ve been following the Friday files for a while, no doubt you’ll agree that my childhood was far from ideal. In fact, it was a living nightmare.

Want to know one of my most embarrassing secrets? Right up until the night I left home, just two weeks before my twentieth birthday, I would hit my head against the pillow rhythmically to lull myself to sleep. This is a habit which can sometimes be seen in babies and toddlers but not generally in a nineteen year old!

I would often wonder how I would cope if I ever got married and had to share my bed with a husband. My family would tease me about it sometimes, referring to my bizarre bedtime ritual as “bonking” – fortunately the word was not tainted by the innuendo that it is today!

The first night that I left home, despite all the turmoil, I fell asleep within moments of my head touching the pillow. This was unheard of – I was used to lying awake for at least an hour every night before sleep finally came.

One of the reasons for this insomnia was that we never knew when Mum would burst in and tear all the covers off us, screaming and raging.

The stairs to the laundry were right next to the room my sister and I shared, and every night I would lie in bed trembling, with baited breath, as I heard her footsteps on the stairs, only relaxing when all was quiet once more.

Many was the time Mum would storm in at some ungodly hour of the night, to take us to task over some real or imagined slight. We never knew just when she might appear in the doorway, a dark shadow, the stuff of nightmares in real life … 

She justified this behaviour by saying, “I’m upset, so everybody else has to be upset too!”

I certainly dreamt of leaving home many times throughout my teen years. My fantasies included moving into my own apartment. It would be light and airy, lots  of white, with brightly coloured pictures and other accents. It would be decorated in the minimalist style, with an absence of the clutter of my childhood home. My home would be filled with peace and light, quiet and space. You don’t have to be a psychologist, dream analyst or feng shui expert to know what I longed for!

As a teenager I sometimes saw a demon standing at the end of my bed in the dark of night. All I saw was a dark figure, thick and heavy with two bitter, raging red eyes bored into mine. It was terrifying! As I was a Christian by this stage I would pray and plead for the blood of Jesus to cover and protect me, eventually relaxing enough to fall back to sleep … I’m still not sure if these visions were real, or just a dream …

Even into adulthood I had frequent nightmares and although the setting and background were often different, the characters and plot were always the same – I re-wrote the episode of my final break from home. The big showdown (which you can read about here)!

My nightmares were filled with the same sense of adrenaline, anger and urgency as the real event, but in my dreams I was in control - I got to orchestrate the events, and have the last say!

I think this is significant now – as a child I was never allowed to be angry, or voice an opinion that was different to my mother’s. To even say “her way or the highway” is wrong. There was no highway. It was her way, or suffer the consequences.

My sleeping hours gave me the opportunity to explore this whole final dramatic showdown from many different angles, and to finally spew forth all the venom and rage that was within me. Nearly every time, I saw myself packing a bag to leave home forever, together with my siblings. My head spun as I tried to sort out basic necesseties such as an income, a place to live, and how to provide for all four of us.

Other recurrent nightmares involved tornadoes and spiders. Interestingly, when I looked up their meanings, both are indicative of your relationship with … wait for it … your mother!

Fortunately the nightmares have faded over the years. Obviously, I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and as I recovered my sleep became much more peaceful!

I was disturbed by another aggressive dream recently, no doubt triggered by learning of Mum’s death. This time I was confronting my uncle and angrily berating him for not telling me about her death. This is something I have already decided I won’t be doing in real life. Yes, I’m disappointed, in fact I’m extremly angry, but we had no real relationship and he was never there for us in the past, so I certainly don’t think it’s time to play “happy families” now. (Obviously I am going to have to work on forgiving him but it’s a bit raw just at the moment!) …

Next week, find out WHY I wasn’t told about my own mother’s death!

love, Janet xxx