I knew that, in writing about my past trauma, the dreams were likely to resurface. They came back in abundance last night. A rehashing of everything I’ve gone through in four terrifying, enervating dreams that left me speechless and near tears.
I don’t feel the overwhelming desire to go into great detail about them outside of a therapy session. Suffice it to say, they were atrocious and, but for my need to work through this, I would choose to run far away from them.
I suppose this could be considered progress. Prior to this, I would react to these PTSD dreams by withdrawing to my room, curling up into a tight ball and crying myself raw. Yeah, my behavior right now is progress. I’m going to confront and slay these issues, no matter how hard it is.
I’ve got something I didn’t have before: an inkling of understanding in what’s propelling this whole ship of monsters and a driving ambition to beat it bloody.