I Had A Terrible Dream.

I had a terrible dream.

I let a man have me on the curb outside a store in broad daylight. There were people around. I was trying to get off while not getting much enjoyment. He left me on the ground after he finished like a piece of garbage, but waved goodbye.

The guilt sunk in. How was I going to tell my woman about this?

In some ways, I knew that feeling. At times when I was unfaithful to him and I uncompartmentalized for a second I would feel uncomfortable, a tightness in my gut, something with a tinge of guilt but mostly just shame.

This was that, with far more guilt than I could take. My woman is so supportive, so good to me; I only want for her to feel happy and loved always. And here I was slipping back into the worst parts of me and disgracing us both.

Unlike when I was with him and continually taking the easy way out, I had made the decision within the dream to come clean to her and accept the consequences. Every part of me felt sick.

Despite the fantastical details (like somehow dodging an indecency charge), I had to reassure myself as I awoke that I didn't actually do such a horrible thing. It felt too much like the old me.

I feel the urge to confess something, so I'm going to tell her about the dream.

My subconscious is an asshole.

I included the times he asked me sarcastically. You know, the days where he thought I may have had a day he would consider better than his.

I retrospect, even in the honeymoon stage, he was never too interested in finding out more about me.

Strange behaviour toward someone he professed to love.

Little things

You know, in the last 10 years I think I could count on one hand the number of times he asked me how my day was.

I can clean a shower without getting a single drop of water on the tile floor.

It doesn't matter that I'll be washing the floor after anyway.

There's just fragments of things I used to be and have borrowed from other people

a mess

The difference between me and fully functional adults is that when they make a mistake, they just move on. When I make a mistake, the world crashes around me, the air escapes my lungs and i simultaneously want to hide under my blankets and scream like a banshee out into the void.

I feel unlovable, incapable and inhuman. I want to claw my skin off and jam a stick through the part of my brain that remembers.

My woman has to spend an hour telling me I am still worthy of love and talks me down from running away.

My brain can't yet process that mistakes no longer equal humiliation and pain. And since I'm not getting the punishment on the outside my brain does it to me on the inside.

Try to remember

No matter how much progress you make, there will always be those days that take you back.