I just woke up from a dream that I want to write down before I forget (though seeing as how this one is playing over and over again in my head I probably won't forget it unlike other dreams).
I can't remember all the details now that I'm awake (hate dreams like that), but I can remember the important part that really affected me.
I was in... a jewelry store, possibly a pawn shop type, with I think my boyfriend Mike. The store was in a bad part of town, and everything was futuristic-ish, so actually I think everywhere was pretty much a bad part of town in some sense (one of those future-ish outcomes where crime just shoots up and everything). The store clerk, an older-ish (but not old) black man, was telling people about the time that he'd stopped a robbery by shooting the potential robbers dead, and he was showing off the gun that did it (not a normal looking gun, definitely futuristic-ish, more "steampunk" like, actually, and had very big, gold-looking bullets, I remember that). As he told the story, I'd see it play out in my dream, kinda like I was being "transported" to the situation he was talking about and witnessing it for myself.
Then, someone in the store spoke up, like an undercover cop, and said something like, "Yeah, he shot 'em alright. And you know what the one started doin'? Crying. Crying 'cause he had two little kids at home waitin' for him to come back, and now he wasn't gonna come back." And he stared hard at the store clerk, who awkwardly put his gun away and shut up.
Suddenly I seemed to get "transported" back to the robbery situation, and I guess I was now somehow a cop investigating what happened. Three men that had tried to rob the store lay on the floor, two dead, one dying with nothing to save him. Another cop was talking to the store clerk. Other cops were marking out evidence stuff and taking pictures of the scene. No one seemed to really care about the guy who was dying, as they seemed to have accepted that nothing could help him and already moved on with their lives. One cop was standing close to the robbers, looking upset, filling out paperwork, and there was a dog next to the man who was dying on the floor. I walked up to the cop next to the robbers. (This cop was the same guy who seemed to be an undercover cop that had spoken up in the store in the beginning).
Cop: "Some night, huh?"
Me: "Yeah... some night. How's the one victim doing?"
Cop: "I wouldn't call him a victim if I were you, least not here. This guy was a robber, so no one's gonna see him as a victim. But he's as ok as he can get, I suppose. See that dog? Helpin' him pass, that dog is. Givin' him comfort despite the fact that he's leavin' two kids behind. Special dog, that one."
Me: *Looked over at man and dog* *Gives a nod to the cop, then walks closer over to the man and dog, kneeling down near them* *Sees the man is no longer crying, and has his eyes closed, and slowly stops breathing, now dead* *The dog, who was laying under his arm halfway on his chest, lets out a quiet whine, licks his cheek, then gets up and starts to walk away*
I look at the man, start to picture kids crying for their dad, and I can feel emotions that might possibly rise up, but I swallow them down and turn my attention to the dog. I kinda follow the dog, and try to pet it, but the dog won't let me. (Not in a mean way, just in an avoidance way). I notice it almost looks like the dog's too sad to let people pet them, or something. I kinda crouch next to a desk (that's where I ended up following the dog around the store), still able to see the men laying on the floor, and suddenly I feel like this big ball of...I don't even know, pain mixed with sadness, basically "vomits up" from somewhere in me, and all of a sudden I'm holding back tears and sobs, and I feel like my whole being aches as my mind fills with thoughts of the man's children who will be crying for him and of my own mom (who died in real life when I was 10 yrs old). The dog, who had been slowly walking away from me, came back, and put its head on my knee. I thought to myself randomly, "Dogs can sense emotions. This one was waiting until I was willing to at least show that I needed some comfort before letting me pet it. That way, petting would be comforting, not a distraction from my emotions." I half-pet, half-held the dog, and I didn't care anymore about where I was, or that I was investigating a case, or how people saw me. I felt like the dog knew how I felt, and I felt like the dog was being like, "It's ok, you're not alone, I'm here, and I'm alert so you don't have to be. You can let everything out, and you should." I heard Cassie in the back of my mind, and very faintly in the dream, just start bawling, crying for mom, and I then I started crying (bit more quietly), while half-petting, half-holding the dog, who stayed there with me. Then, I woke up.
This dream made me realize that I've been running from my own emotions, and always have been. I was not allowed to break down or fall apart when I was younger. I had to be the strong one. All of us did. We all have a problem with not letting ourselves feel our emotions, and shoving them deep down inside and away from us, and not letting them out until they build up and explode (usually to due something with a similar emotional reaction, but not related the original issues). This is because we had to be the adult when we were a child. We had to be the strong ones, the logical ones, the ones that kept our head and stayed responsible. We were not allowed to be a child, we were not allowed to react like a child, and we were not allowed to be so overwhelmed with emotion that we "fell apart". (Well, our dad never said we weren't allowed and never punished us, but we felt like we were never allowed to because our dad had become the child, he had become the unstable one in need of comfort and help, he had fallen apart, and so we had to be the strong one since he wasn't able to. -F*#king repulsive weakling, sad excuse for a so-called parent.- Sorry, that was a bit of Kat there I think).
And what we "learned" from our dad didn't help. From watching him, we learned that expressing emotions means you affect others negatively, you bring them down with you, and you make them feel bad, too. And you seem weak and helpless for not having control over yourself or your emotions, and you shouldn't be dumping your baggage onto someone else anyway. These things, of course, are not true depending on how you express your emotions, but for us, they are all true for any type of expression because, well, that's what we ended up learning from our experiences. We were also taught my dad's horrible "Well that was then, this is now" mindset (although he never followed it for himself). If we were mad at something my dad did, my dad would say, "Why are you still upset over that? That was then. This is now. Move on, focus on the present, and enjoy the present. Lighten up". Which, of course, would infuriate us even more, but we weren't allowed to express it because from that point, we'd either start a fight, or we'd start a lecture that would turn into a fight, something like that. So, we kept our mouths shut, put on a happy face, and buried the anger. This is the same for all emotions. Sadness? Can't cry, dad's already crying, bury that. Hopelessness? Dad's already got that, so someone has to be strong and hopeful, and that someone looks like it's gotta be us, so bury that. Happiness? Well, I can show that unless dad's in a bad mood because then no matter what I have to watch what I do and say. And even then he'll probably find some way to ruin how I feel due to him only caring about himself and how he feels (least that's how it always seemed). Censor, bury, censor, bury, censor, bury. My dad turned into a broken, weak, tree sapling that was falling over and I had to turn into the support stake that he was tied to. I went from being a child who occasionally had to be a bit older and more mature for situations, to having to be an adult who looked after my dad, looked after the house, worried about money, reminded my dad about bills, and other stuff like that by age 12 (age 11 was spent realizing that I had to be the adult and learning how to be one and working on being one and such). We took care of our dad, our dog, the house, and ourselves, or at least, we tried to the best we could. Our dad became the child, and we became the adult.
I can still hear Cassie crying. She's been crying since we woke up from the dream. I see images flash in my mind of our mom, her life, her death. But I still feel so distant from it. It's still obvious that the emotions are Cassie's, not mine, though I'm trying to share them and make them mine since technically, they're mine too. But I can't... I don't know how to. I feel like... like there's this huge ball of emotion, but it's being blocked. Physically it feels similar to how when you get a lump in your throat before you cry, but then you don't cry. Feels like that. It feels like the lump is stuck in my throat and I can't swallow it, but I can't let it out either. I know how to swallow it, but I can't this time, and I don't know how to let it out...
I thought I was always good about the whole, "These memories are mine too, this happened to me, I can recall them and talk about them and everything, I know what happened", thing. But apparently I was wrong. Apparently, despite the fact that I can say they happened to me, and I can talk about them, and I can recall them, etc., despite all that, there's still a ton of distance between the emotions attached with those memories and fully accepting both facts of these memories really are mine (not Luna's, not Kat's, not Cassie's, all of our's, including mine), and that these emotions attached to the memories are mine (not just Luna's emotions, or Kat's emotions, they're my emotions too, or at least, they would've been had I allowed myself to feel them).
I feel so... detached and disillusioned now. I thought I had a good handle on everything. I thought I had accepted a lot that apparently I haven't. I thought a lot of things that apparently aren't true, at least, not to the extent I thought they were. My world has been flipped, stripped, and turned into something completely different than what I thought it was. It feels kinda like... you're in a dark room, stepping on something kinda cruchy, and feeling about the room to try and get an idea of what's in it and how it's laid out. Once you think you've felt around everywhere and know about everything that's in it (lamp, TV, etc) and know how it's laid out, then the lights turn out, and not only does it turn out that you're way off with what's in the room and it's layout, but you've been stepping on glass the whole time and not noticed how badly you were injured. That's what it feels like to me right now. I feel like I was totally wrong about everything I thought I knew, and not even realized how badly I was hurt. I thought I had a pretty good handle on myself, my DID, my memories, accepting stuff, and everything, but I guess not... Gut-wrenching disillusionment along with a numb shock of confusion and jumbled questions.
(Just realized I have no idea what the point of this post is, so, sorry I guess, and thanks for letting me vent? I guess this could be called venting. Whatever...)
-Cassandra
This helped me to realize that yes, this is progress and yes, it's a good thing despite it not feeling that way.
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