Tuesday, June 30, 2009

A bad dream

I had a nightmare--and I woke up in the shower. Sitting in the tub, the water falling on me like warm rain. My awful dream started out with me taking my kids to Subway for a free lunch. But they didn't understand the concept that this was a free lunch, subway school coupons for a free kids meal. Cuz they didn't want a kids meal, they wanted a 6-inch sub just the way they like it. I, myself ate the kids meal with my little one and let the older kids have what they wanted. Then my dream goes to the girls playing with their friend at our house. They are talking about taking piano lessons and my oldest says that she had to quit because my mom couldn't afford it anymore, in a nice pre-teen sort of tone. My jaw hit the floor. Where did I mess up in rearing my kids? Where did she not learn the value of a dollar? How spoiled exactly are my kids?
Then my dream goes to my daughter asking for a not-so-healthy snack. I tell her that I just cut up 2 bowls of fresh fruit and they are in the fridge for her to eat. She tells me, with her friend right beside her, "nevermind. And those grapes you bought today are disgusting." What? Did I not teach her how to respect me? Does she not know how she can politely tell me she doesn't like something I've fixed or bought for her? Where, where did I go wrong? My dream entails a few more of these moments where I question my parenting skills and then culminates with me exploding. On her. I lost it. I have to hold my hands behind my back to not touch her while I used very frank, very inapporpriate words to tell her what she has done that has so hurtfully disappointed me....and made me so inexplicably mad.
Then, in my dream, I miss Chase so bad. I am mad becuase he was taken from me. I am mad, so mad, at the doctor who took him from me. I want to scream and yell at him, "why?" I want to break things. I want to just cry and cry and cry and do. I ache inside. I can see myself holding Chase, my nose on his forehead, looking at his face, touching his tiny fingers and toes, squeezing his chubby legs.
I just want to go away somewhere. But I don't want to go away to some beautiful, relaxing place....where I get fixed. Because I won't ever be fixed. I won't ever heal from this. I want to go away to nowhereland. I just want to go away and be alone. See no one, do nothing, just get away from what happened. But I can't. Because it happened. It happened to me and there is nothing I can do about it, but deal with it. I read somewhere: you may fall down 7 times, but get up 8.
So I woke up in the shower. And I realized this wasn't a dream at all. It was my day today. But it's about over, though not quite. And I'm okay. Working on fixing things with my oldest. We have some talking to do. I have some stuff to "get over." We will make-up. It's okay, really, to have bad days? I am told. But it doesn't feel okay. Not when you realizing you are living your worst nightmare.

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