In my dreams, the ugliness returns. My biggest fears come alive. It's like the electrically charged storms of summer in the south in my head. Some things I'm willing to discuss with others. Some, I don't want to say aloud.
I want to feel safe. I want to feel loved and cherished. I want to feel like my future is as secure as a future can be. I don't think those things are asking too much.
In my fear, I strike out. I hurt those I love. It isn't intentional. It is a knee-jerk reaction. Maybe there isn't enough love to fix some things. What if hurt is the norm and happy is the strange?
Sadness seeps into the crevices of my heart that remain from its crushed self being squished back together. It joins doubt and anger to the point of pushing out the love and hope that had set up residence.
I tell myself to just stop...stop the bad thoughts; Turn my brain onto sunshine and flowers. If that worked, no one would need therapy or rehab.