3:30 am. My dog wonders why I am up and dressed. She looks on, pleading “Please go to sleep, mommy. You are getting loopy.”
Yeah, she talks to me in plain English. Don’t judge or argue, just accept it as fact.
Sigh.
But I can not go to bed.
I can not even get myself to change my clothes, or take off my running shoes. And I am NOT a runner.
My heart beats through my chest, my foot tap tap tap tap tap on the floor, and the other leg can’t stop swinging.
Time for bed. You are so sleepy. Get up and go to bed.
Instead I get up and pace…
I gotta get out…I can’t be here…Help…help me…GET ME OUT OF HERE!
There are invisible bugs crawling on my arms – they feel gross, like I need to burn my skin off. I know there are no bugs or creatures there, it’s just how it feels. A sensation – something is eating away in my core. I do crunches every day to strengthen the muscles there, but now I sense a hole forming, like a punch in the stomach, only it goes all the way through to the other side…
Break on through to the other side, break on through to the other side…
(Jim Morrison, how did you get in this story? )
There is some paranoia as I search the space behind the couch –
No one is there, Erliss.
I am afraid to take off my shoes.
I am afraid to undress and change my clothes.
I am afraid to position myself for sleep.
I am afraid to not be conscious.
Such vulnerability.
I say the word and my entire body cringes –
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
VULNERABILITTTTTTTTTTT TT TT TT TYYYYYYYYY!
Hey, when you type two “T’s” together, it looks like pi… TT I never noticed that before. I like Pi…
The distraction brings some relief, then…
My eyes get heavy, my head turns down, and I feel like someone just scraped the skin off my private parts and showed them to my teachers, who then show the entire 3rd grade class. They burst into hysterical laughter and point. I am in a different time—Oooh, I DO need to get out of here…I “come to” pacing the floor again.
Where am I? What…where…huh?
I recognize this great room, with huge windows, and a Great Pyrenees looking at me, as if to say “Hey, you are OK. I will protect you.”
I remember my self.
The year is 2016, you are married and have a dog and a house in the mountains. And it is late. VERY late.
This is not my normal – I am usually more shut down, in and out of freeze.
But now I feel terror…in my feet…like they remember some danger I have forgotten. Or tried to. Or am trying not to remember.
I feel electricity shoot from my tummy to my toes, it jolts me towards the door, my dark barks and runs towards me and I tremble…
Please go away – please stop – please go away–
God I HATE THIS!
I am exhausted. The dog looks at me – she is tired too. She implores me again “Go to sleep. I got this.”
Maybe tonight I will sleep in my blue jeans and running shoes, you know, just in case…
You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side …
(The Doors)
Thank you for listening.
Much love to each of you.
Erliss, The Monkey Whisperer