Preventing

I should be sleeping but instead I am preventing.
Preventing flashbacks, preventing nightmares, preventing thoughts of self-harm.
I have had a long, physically draining day but the emotional drain has taken the bigger toll on me.

Earlier today I was engaged in conversation about my abuser. The conversation was not on my terms. The person driving the conversation was not aware of my... sensitivity. And, truth be told, I was fine with the conversation when it was happening.

Here I sit. Processing, thinking, preventing.

I cannot tell you how exhausted I am.
I cannot tell you how scared I am to fall asleep.
My nightmares are rarely about my abuser. My nightmares are about my son being in peril/pain/dying, about mass suffering, about my husband being gone. I have died in my nightmares. I have been blown up, murdered, tortured, messed up in ways I don't have the stomach to describe. My nightmares are vivid. Oftentimes, my nightmares seem more real than actual reality. All of my senses are keener in my nightmares. The pain is more painful, lights brighter, shadows darker, emotions higher, loneliness unending, and hope nonexistent.

My nightmares terrify me.

My flashbacks are not always a re-experiencing of the abuse. I haven't had a flashback like that in quite a few years. Lately my flashbacks have been a re-experiencing of the emotions and physical "echos" I would feel after I was abused. The physical "echos" are most simply described as skin crawling and feeling like you need to wash the feel of something/someone off of your skin. Flashbacks can leave me feeling physically drained, achy, and generally unwell. They can also leave me an emotional basket-case. I am keenly aware of my sanity's mortality.

I need to be sleeping.

I have been going non-stop for 20+ hours. My body does not function well on too little sleep and my brain won't function at all. I am already getting a sleep deprivation headache.

I continue to type.

I am afraid to sleep. I am afraid to feel.
I am afraid of feeling nothing. I am afraid of rage. I am afraid of feeling pity. I am afraid of finding solace. I am afraid of feeling happy. I am afraid of feeling fragile. I am afraid of feeling controlled. I am afraid of feeling confined. I am afraid of feeling what my abuser feels.

I should be sleeping.

I am afraid of what my mind will do to me after I close my eyes.
During the abuse, my body was used against me. I felt betrayed by my body because it reacted the way it was designed to. My body was being used in ways it was never meant to be used.
My mind continues the abuse. My mind betrays me. My mind will never let me forget.
Sometimes I feel like a hostage of my own mind.

I should be sleeping.

I should be in bed with my husband.
My husband makes me feel safe. My husband keeps me safe.
When I am able to find him in my nightmares, the nightmare stops. He is my out.
I can hear my husband gently snoring. The sound makes me smile. It is the sound of peace and rest. A reminder of sanity and love.

I need to be sleeping.
I need to be in bed.
My need to be in bed with my husband is greater than my fear.
My husbands love is greater than my fear.
My husband is pretty great.

Is there a should?

I am sitting here, alone, in my living room.
It's late at night, my family is all in bed, and I want to turn on my very old laptop. I want to type faster. I want to let my thoughts out. I want to get my thoughts down. And I know that if I was typing on my laptop, I would feel something.
Right now I don't know what I'm feeling, what I should be feeling. If there even is a "should" for my feelings in this situation.

My abuser was arrested for a crime that has nothing to do with me.
Except for the fact that he is my abuser and everything he does has something to do with me and my emotions. He admitted to committing the crime so he is where he obviously belongs - in jail.
Should I be happy about that? Should I rejoice in his punishment?
Of late, he has been a good friend to me. Truth be told, we've been good friends for many more years than not. For now that friend is gone. I can't contact him with some funny thing that only he would understand, a joke that makes me think of him, an internet video that fits his sense of humor.
Part of me is reevaluating our friendship. Life is not as simple as it once was - I have a son to raise. And I certainly don't want my son to end up like me.

The parent/child relationship. It's an interesting and complicated thing.
My friends have asked how I am doing, my abusers family has asked how I am doing,
my family of origin has not.
Should I be offended? It bothers me a little that my abuser and his family acknowledged my last birthday while my family of origin did not. But should it?

I have been on edge since I found out my abuser was arrested.
My PTSD has flared slightly.
I have cried, but not hard.
I have had conversations with my abuser in my head.
I have had conversations about my abuser in my head.
I have discussed the situation with my husband.
I have explained the situation to friends.
I tell my friends that I am okay.

I am okay, aren't I?

I have no thoughts of self-harming, no thoughts of harming anyone else, I'm not depressed or angry.
Yet my sleep is erratic at best.
My patience is constantly thin.
I feel like I'm moving through emotional Jell-o.

I feel heavy.

I want time alone to process. As much as it scares me, I want to know what I'm feeling. Since I'm already feeling it on some level, it would be nice to have a label for it. For this... this nothingness that most definitely is something.

I wish I was typing on my laptop right now. The laptop that knows things about me no person has ever known, my only friend at a time when I was friendless. Unfortunately, getting her out would probably wake my family. I'm not even sure she'll run well enough to type on.
Besides, I should go to bed and pretend that I can sleep.
And pretend that my sleep is restful.
And pretend that I am perfectly fine.