One of the worst parts of pregnancy, for me at least, has been night time. Once you gain a certain amount of baby weight, it’s almost impossible to find a comfortable way to sleep. And when I finally am able to get rest, the pregnancy nightmares are just awful. A lot of my dreams lately have been of the horror movie variety in style, filled with tension and anticipation of horrific outcomes just around corner.
The cast of characters varies a bit, but my family of origin seems to be having a recurring role. Of course this makes sense, given my current state, anticipating a new baby and recalling how difficult the first experience was. The latest experience was also pretty violent. It began with me being a doormat, as was my role previously with them, but then as I came to my senses and began to remember the boundaries I’d set, I tried to enforce them. This caused them to become scarily violent, both towards me and my home, ending with a demolition derby like exit as they fled my home in a tantrum, mangling every single car on my block on the way out.
It’s not difficult to see why these dreams are happening. But they are still painful experiences nonetheless. Sometimes I’ll wake from nightmares and be unable to get back to sleep for hours. The torment caused by my own mind is worse the further along I get in this pregnancy. The things my busy brain conjures in the darkness, when I have little else to distract myself with, are reminders how much more of my issues I have to work through. I yearn for the day when I can feel normal and well adjusted, instead of just a shell faking her way through.