Day 7: Big girls don’t cry or in the middle of the night I cry
Technically it wasn’t the middle of the night, it was like 7 am, which for us more or less is still a deep sleep time.
So, Fergie, whatever you think you know — you don’t.
Big girls cry. Definitely.
I used to cry a lot when I was a kid and the whole way till now. It was pretty extreme in middle school, high school and big world unfairness in university was killing my soul slowly. Now, I rarely cry, but when I do, it’s not a mere middle school drama like having B instead of A, which was one of my biggest troubles in life (*exaggeration*). It is much more complicated these days.
I didn’t realize I woke up and started crying until he woke up and tried to understand what was going on, hugged my naked shoulders and I gave into it. I cried, I mourned, I was beginning to grasp the idea of my distress.
Of course it was about her, why else would I cry at 7am.
It never happened to me before: crying while waking up from a bad dream
But crying because of something she did, that was a norm back in the day.
This dream though was all kinds of messed-up.
I was one of three daughters. And the other two were my university girlfriends who I really liked but they weren’t really good people. Hypocrites, liars and even though they were dumber than I was they always got away with it. I was jealous of them: they had things I didn’t and they were people I wanted to be, why? I wouldn’t know. I never seem to fit and the situation in university wasn’t an exception. I was trying to be and belong in their little fancy exclusive group, but never really did. To my big disappointment.
I can’t say I won in life, cause I’m writing this in Zurich and they live and work in Ukraine, but I feel a bit better about myself.
This horrid dream showed me that my issues, my fucked-up personality and the way I got here aren’t leaving me yet, the torturous self is still here, the mind I had in school is still here, the feelings, the hurting, HER.
Dream in short: I’m one of three daughters as I said, the other two are more accomplished, more beautiful and I was jealous. She was organizing smth for one of them while I was miserable, sitting in my room and sulking (I think crying as well) and it was my birthday. And everybody forgot, even I did, because nobody cared enough to make a big deal outta it.
She said smth about it being inconsequential and tugged me while I was hanging onto this “бадилля” (Ukrainian), it’s whats left from melon/watermelon/cucumber crops when all the harvest is gathered (my subconscious works in mysterious ways, I KNOW)
I was sobbing and she just yanked and dragged me.
It was harrowing.
Mainly cause of all the things it reminded me of.
Me and my Mom, see, we have this complicated history.
So even if this doesn’t seem like a big thing for you, reader, it was for me.
I remembered, once again, how she could be and what had happened.
Not that I ever forgot.
Meanwhile he kissed my shoulder blades in attempts to console my breaking heart.
We never sleep like that: hugging and rolling around while still hugging each other. I can’t sleep like that, it’s like the invading of the territory and he gets it, cause he’s the same. I need my space, he needs his. Left side is mine, he’s on the right.
But it was nice how he was trying to do smth, even though there’s nothing he could do in a thousand years.
There I was lying in our bed (more like his bed), thinking how I’m gonna leave him in 3 days and my soul crying cause of her insubordination in the past.
It still hurt. And this dream merely reminded me how fragile my psyche was and how it is actually all on the surface. The necessity of dealing with it was horrifying.
Thank you for reading
xo
N@t
