I think for a lot of people night time can represent many things. It can represent relaxation, quite time, bedtime, maybe even time for work. Night time for me though represents something different, it has many meanings to me. Or brings up many feelings I should say. I can't count how many nights I've spent tossing and turning. I can't even remember how many nights I've cried myself to sleep, how many nights I got on my knees to pray to God for help. I feel as though I go through periods of time where I can sleep just fine and then out of nowhere I'm wide awake. Dragging myself to bed in hopes of catches a couple hours of sleep before the sun rises. Lately as I lay in bed so many thoughts race through my mind. Sometimes the thought of bedtime sends me into panic. It may be because so many things happened at night. Growing up it seemed like the only time my parents liked to argue was nighttime. The constant fighting, the sounds of yelling & loud knocks on the door,, police men taking Paul to jail. When it wasn't arguing I was woken up by my mother who was high on who knows what. Shaking me vigorously and whispering in a panic "Jeannie there's bikers outside! You have to get up there going to kill us." Only to get up to see there is nothing there but the moon and the stars that covered the sky. Some nights sleeping was out of the question when the fear of being taken advantage of was on your mind. Then there was those days that I would fall asleep out of pure exhaustion. When I was a freshmen in high school I had one of those days. At the time I lived with Paul in a 2 bedroom apartment right behind the high school that I attended. That night as I slept I heard voices, and music. I got up to see what it was. I opened my bedroom door and peeked around the corner so I could just see the living room. Not to my surprise Paul had our small living room packed with Men & Women. The room reeked of weed and Booz. I could see that people were doing Coke on the living room table. I quietly retreated to my room. I remember Paul had put something in front of my window, basically to keep me from running away. Some nights when I was up and couldn't sleep I'd be able to pry open my window just enough to see the moon. Just enough to smell the cool night air. At this time my mom was in incarcerated. I would look up to the moon and just cry. I'd talk to my mom. I'd talk to God. I can remember trying to cry quietly and sometimes I would hold it all in. I always lived in fear of being heard at night..... As I retreated back to my bed I lay there finally able to fall back to sleep. I can remember dreaming and in my dream I felt like I was being kicked. I opened my eyes to see Paul standing near the foot of my bed kicking my bed. He gets closer with each kick until he begins to kick me. I cry out "why are you doing this." His response was so vulgar so evil it was as if I wasn't even his daughter "Your a whore. You'll never be anything." He continues to kick me throwing me off of my bed onto the ground. I remember the feeling of metal scrapping my back as I screamed. He was hitting me with a wire hanger. . I can remember lying there after he was done. My knees to my chest, as I felt the blood run down my back. . Crying, gasping for air. I now have scares on my back from this night. A constant reminder every time I see it of that horrible night. I'd like to say that this was the only time I went through something like this. Sadly it isn't. . Just like the small one bedroom apartment I talked about already this 2 bedroom apartment has just as many terrible memories. Things that I can't even bring myself to speak of. As a young teenager I was fearful of night. I was fearful of closing my eyes. Before I lived with Paul. Before my my anxiety towards nighttime started to develop there is a particular night that is engraved in my heart and in my head forever. Before I lived with Paul, I was living with my Mom, we had just gotten a tiny studio on 12th street in Merced. She had been struggling with her addictions for as long as I could remember. Like I said before I always had trouble sleeping so on this day after walking all of. Merced finding a way to get this place I was exhausted I fell asleep on the carpet in that studio, the last thing I remember seeing was my mom telling me that she'd be there when I woke up and not to worry. I still remember the panic I woke up in as I looked around this room and saw no one. Just the night sky through the one window that the studio had. I freaked out I jumped up crying saying to my myself " Where's my mom? What do I do?." There was nothing in this studio, just a trash bag with some clothes. Just as I looked up my mom walked through the door. . Carrying some plates and a nightstand. I look at her with tears in my eyes and asked her "Where did you go?!" She replies as if she was looking through me. "Don't worry about it I'm here now." I come close to her and say "Mom I was freaking out we don't have a phone, I couldn't call. There's nothing in this place..... Wait have you been drinking!?" I look straight into her glossy eyes and was livid! I started yelling at her "You have money to drink and yet we don't have any food in this place. Where did you go? What's wrong with you ?! Why would you leave me ? I'm your daughter!" As we continue to argue it was as if she was possessed with something inside of her. She started crying and said no one loved her. How her kids hated her and how she was just going to kill herself. I can remember her banging her head into the wall as I tried with all of my force to hold her back. Trying to calm her down telling her that I loved her. She eventually mad her way to the kitchen. I sat on the bathroom floor crying not knowing what to do. When I hear a loud crash. I jumped up to see that she had broken a plate and was holing the glass in her hand. I jumped to try to grab it from her. She began throwing more plates yelling and crying. Then all at once turned on me lunging at me with glass in her hand trying to kill me. Pushing me towards the door into the night. . Slamming the door in my face. I remember coming to my knees crying just ready to give up. To let my own mother take my life. All the while men standing there looking at me. I got up and asked one of the bystanders to use their phone. I called the one person that I thought would help. Paul. My dad the man that's supposed to be my hero. I remember begging him to come and help me. He came reluctantly. After hanging up I called the police. Everything happened so fast. And just like that I was with Paul who didn't even want to take me. Who asked if there was anywhere else I could go. Watching police men barge into what I thought would be my home. Bring my mom out on a stretcher strapped down. And as I looked up to the moon and stars above me just like that I left. With nothing but that horrible memory. . . Some nights I remember those nights. I feel everything again. When I can't sleep I look outside of my window and stare up at the moon. And the stars in the sky and crack my window to smell the fresh air. I cry. Then I bring myself to my feet and wipe my tears. I tell myself "Jeannie it's going to be okay,. Your safe now." I leave the window and try to drift off to sleep. Night time has never been easy. The more I go to therapy the more I remember that. But I know that as long as I'm alive.... I will look up at the moon and the stars in the sky and smell the night time air,and know that everything will be alright. . .
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Author :Hey :) |