My wrist is bruised all around from being caught in the slats of the new bedframe while I slept. It probably explains the being bound in chains in the courtroom part of the nightmare.
Managed to pull myself from the clutches of the nightmares to a pillow soaked with tears. Things escape from the boxes at night. Ah well, I suppose that it's better than crying when I'm awake - it's just weak and self-indulgent anyways.
Time for a bit of self examination. 5 am after 4 hours sleep *is* the best time, right?
The demons have come to show me the error of my ways again. They are correct, I don't often get it right. They understand that I should not tell people what I think and feel and need and want. They understand that it's futile, and that I should just be happy with anything that comes my way. It's a weakness to show that side of me, the side that needs anything, and it's not what people want to know. Fundamentally people don't want to know, they don't want to be burdened with exteraneous bullshit, they don't want to make an effort to see outside of themselves, they just want their lives to be easier. They want to be cared for.
Because no one is really going to listen, no one is really going to give me any of those things. Because I am wrong, always am. Wants and needs are unreasonable. I'm not going to get any caring, any love - I should just face that fact now and get the fuck over it.
There is no one
I remember being distraught over the decisions I made last summer while down at BritBoy's. Of needing a little comforting. Instead he turned away. Later he told me that's becuase he couldn't handle that part of me. That's the way it is.
I'm the one people depend on to fix things, to be there to help, to be dependable and alla that. The cool one with the answer. The one who makes things happen. The one there in emergencies. The facilitator, the fixer, the one who always says 'sure, I can help you with that'. Being a rock means that you dinnae need anything in return. Self contained. I remember the last year of my father's life and when he died. That's the person that I need to be every day - cool, calm, collected, had all the answers, made everyone's life work better, took care of all the details, made everything work. Was the one they called at 2am. Held them when they cried, soothed them when they were upset, made their lives easier. The caretaker - I should just stick to that role. At least I know how to do that one. It's when I do try to let people in, to allow myself to think they might care, to allow them to see the parts that aren't Polly Perfect that things fall apart. I screw it up. I want or expect too much. People like me better the other way.
Because 'it's not all about me'. Never has been. I've been reminded of that lately.
And now, now everything will be put in the appropriate box and life will return to normal. I will continue to wear the happy-go-lucky mask of the person who always makes an extra effort to lend a hand at work, to be the comic relief and errand girl, I will continue to help my friends as best I can, to try to make everyone happy, and I will trudge along. I will not want, I will not need, I will not desire, I will simply accept. Much safer that way.
Time to lock that scared little girl away again - it's better this way.