Waking Up in a Nightmare

I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach and my heart racing like I’d just run a marathon. I had the most fucked-up nightmare last night—one of those dreams that feels so real you’re sure it actually happened. In it, my husband and I were splitting up. We were yelling, packing up our lives into boxes, and tearing down everything we’ve built together. I could feel the pain, the anger, the loss, like it was ripping me apart from the inside.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, it took a minute to shake off the fog and realize that it was just a nightmare. But even now, hours later, the feeling is still lingering. I keep looking over at him, half expecting to see that same look of hurt and betrayal I saw in the dream. It’s so damn hard to snap back to reality when your subconscious is throwing shit like that at you.

The dogs, as if sensing my weird mood, decided today was the day to be the most annoying little creatures on the planet. Barking at everything that moves outside, jumping on the furniture, and basically acting like they’ve had five cups of coffee. Usually, they’re my solace, my little pack that keeps me grounded when the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. But today? They’re just adding to the chaos. I love them, I really do, but damn, they’re testing my patience.

And you know what? I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like I have to carry the weight of everything on my own. Sometimes I look around, and it feels like I’m in this big, empty room, screaming at the top of my lungs, but nobody hears me. Sure, I’ve got people in my life, but it’s not the same as having someone who really gets it, who’s there in the trenches with you, not just for the fun times but for the shitty, messy moments too.

My so-called family is a whole other story. Given up at two years old, bounced from home to home, and finally ending up with a Mormon family that broke me in ways I’m still trying to understand. They didn’t just take my childhood; they took my son, my flesh and blood, and left me with a wound that never heals. I guess that’s why I wake up with nightmares like this, why I feel so fucking alone sometimes. It’s like the universe keeps reminding me of all the things I’ve lost.

This morning, I felt like I was back in that nightmare. Alone, betrayed, lost. I know it’s not real, but it sure as hell feels like it sometimes. Depression’s a sneaky bastard like that. It creeps up on you, pulls you under when you least expect it. Today, I’m struggling to keep my head above water.

I know I’ve got a good life in many ways. I know my husband loves me, and we’re in this together. But some days, that knowledge isn’t enough to fight off the shadows. Some days, I just need to say, “Fuck, this is hard,” and let myself feel it without pretending everything’s okay.

So, here I am, writing this out, hoping that putting these words down will help clear my head, will help me let go of the nightmare and the lingering dread. Maybe it’ll help someone else feel a little less alone too. Because, honestly, we’re all just doing our best to make it through, one damn day at a time.

Thanks for sticking with me through this mess.

-Demetri

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