Abditory [H.S]

7

I go to my sink, gripping it tightly I see my own knuckles turn white.

"It was just a dream, it's not real. It's not real. It's not real." I say to myself over and over again, now crying because of how much it affected me. It's always like this, I clearly know they aren't real, but it's this thing in my head that tries to convince me they'll happen at some point, making  me so scared about it.

I turn the water on, trying to hide my sobs as much as I can so others won't hear me. I cup my hands over my mouth, crying hard into it as i squeeze my eyes shut.

This always happens, I should've known better to not sleep.

"C'mon breathe, you know how to breathe, jusy breathe, in and out, in and out." I say in encouragement, staring at myself in the mirror, trying to calm my breath down.

I fall to the ground, not taking standing up any longer.

I feel my chest hurting, clunching it with my hand to try and ease the pain, as I'm still crying.

"C'mon five things you can see." I whisper to myself, slowly looking around my bathroom.

The shampoo in my bathtub, my toothbrush, the sink, the trashcan, and the shower head.

"Four things you can touch." I whisper to myself again, using a technique I've been using for years now.

The water coming down the sink, the toilet paper, my loafa wash, and the mirror.

"Three things you can hear."

The water running, my own sobs, the voice in my head helping through all of this.

"Two things you can smell."

My shampoo, and the bathroom floor, because I mopped it yesterday.

"One thing you can taste."

Water.

I keep breathing in through my nose, out of my mouth while thinking of all these things, distracting myself from the dark thoughts I just had, noticing how it's kind of calmed down now after a few minutes.

I stay on the ground a little bit, not having the strength to get up after that.

I slowly do so, holding on to my sink again. I wash my face three times with cold water, knowing it always helps.

I get out of my bathroom, going to turn my bedroom light on, not wanting to be in the dark anymore.

I go to check my phone's time, seeing it's 2:14am.

Well, at least I slept for about 6 hours.

I go to change my clothes, my sweat wetting the edges of my white hoodie, pulling it off my head, doing the same to my shirt.

I feel the cold air hit my breasts as I rush to put on another hoodie, this time being black.

I run a hand through my hair, tip toeing to my door to go check on....my mom.

It's a weird thing really, everytime I have this kind of nightmare, I always check up on her, I know she'd be alive, but it's always that part of me that needs reassurance.

I see the bedroom door slightly cracked, peeking through it to see her sleeping.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Now going down the stairs to get water.

I don't even know what caused my nightmare, sometimes nothing really triggers them, they just happen out of nowhere. I've learnt to not sleep everytime I'm feeling more sad than usual, because I know it's my brain's way of pulling them up during my sleep.

Sometimes music helps, sometimes it makes it worse, I don't really get it, but I've dealt with this since I was 13, so it doesn't really matter what or who causes them anymore.

Yes, I've been having those since I was 13, they dont always end up the same, but they always start with her yelling at me.

It's not like I can go to therapy or something, it's really expensive, and plus, my mom believes that mental illnesses are nothing but what children make out to be, exaggerating in the way they feel.

I pretend that her words don't hit as much as they used to anymore, I've lived with them my entire life, but they always come back to bite me in the ass while sleeping.

It's the trauma since the childhood, really. I barely even remember what happened sometimes, but I still get small glimpses of it in my nightmares.

I pull the blankets over me now again in my bedroom, feeling colder because of what I just went through.

I won't sleep, I know I won't, so I just pull my phone in my hand, scrolling through pinterest or instagram, whatever helps distract me.

After all, it's always the distractions that help, nothing more.