In my first “baseline reading,” I spoke of emotional flashbacks. But, another fairly frequent “trauma companion” is nightmares. I’ll share more about them later, but as part of this “baseline,” I will give some background here.
While decades of therapy have healed much, nightmares still show up fairly often. Having dealt with them for years, I am *almost* used to them — at least most of the time. And generally, I shed their emotional upsets pretty quickly. In fact, in some of my recent ones, I even show up more as a fighter now than as that victim from the past. So, I guess that is progress.
But sometimes a nightmare will come along that can still blindside me with an emotional knock-out punch. That’s an indication that there is something I still need to work on because nightmares reveal where the heart is still bleeding.
The Trigger: Trip Planning
Yesterday I set up travel plans for us to go to visit our son in Savannah to celebrate my 70th birthday. Now it should be a short story — decide to go, settle the dates, make travel and hotel reservations, and then go and have a wonderful time. Yes. Maybe for many, that is the way it works. But…
For years I have struggled to “ask,” whether it be for help, for something I want, for some I need. It’s taken years but I am getting better at it. Yet even when I can now ask, I still struggle to feel I “deserve.”
So it was no small thing for me to say that I wanted this trip for my birthday. In fact, it was a major victory. I wasn’t interested in presents or big parties, just being with my immediate family — my treasure in life. But about that whole “I deserve” thing….
First, our son lives about 5-12 hours away from us — the wide time range being based on how bad traffic will be on I-95 South at any given time. Under normal circumstances, it’s a 5-6 hour ride, and somewhat intense due to construction and traffic. But add in just one accident somewhere, and the ripple effect up the highway can double that time and require bailing off onto 2-lane backroads.
While this kind of thing was not as big a deal when I was younger, I am now finding that weekend trips that involve long drives are getting harder. By the time I get there, I need 2 days to recover before I feel up to enjoying the destination. Thus, about the time I am ready to enjoy everyone, it’s time to go home. Recently, we got together in South Carolina at a place halfway between us, and that was pretty good. But even so, the 4-hour drive each way still wore me out. So saying I wanted to go to Savannah for my birthday meant an even longer drive.
One other kink is that if we drive, we are adding miles to our already-high-mileage vehicle, something we’re trying to avoid. We could rent a car, but that brings up the second issue – the cost of another trip so soon.
Since we had just taken the South Carolina trip, we had already spent a fair bit. Being retired, money is tighter now, and so I felt more than a little guilty asking to do yet another trip so soon. But, this was something I really wanted for my 70th birthday celebration — no presents, but the experience of a special time with my family. So, I persisted in exploring the possibilities.
I remembered my son’s comment that he might look into flying or taking the train when he comes home over the holidays. That was food for thought. While I liked the idea of flying, I wasn’t thrilled about the cost. But the train…now that had appeal. No driving, read a book, watch the world go by, nap, and then maybe 5-7 hours later, we’re there. And our son usually does all the driving when we visit anyway, so we wouldn’t need a car. He could pick us up from the train station.
But. The two choices for train travel were:
– Leave around 9 a.m. and get there…at best…around 10 P.M. — a travel time of 12 hours, minimum. Given that Fridays are the worst days to travel by train because they are the busiest, and trains on busy days run late, we were probably looking at even longer than 12 hours.
– Leave late in the afternoon and arrive between 3-4 A.M! Not a chance!
The cost for this ordeal was around $300. That was definitely affordable, so I tried *really hard* to convince myself that I could endure 12 hours or more of being stuck on a train. But deep down, I knew it was wrong. And as my therapist pointed out, any celebratory trip that has the word “ordeal” in it is a non-starter.
First, there is the physical toll. Even if I am not driving, it still requires a certain level of stamina to sustain 12+ hours of being “on” for travel, even if everything goes perfectly. Physically, I get sick now if I have to sustain anything that long.
Add in that we’ve never done a long train trip before. This arrangement would involve changing trains, dealing with luggage, and the possibility of unknown logistical “what-ifs” that might go wrong…my stress level shot up.
And yes, I have to consider my emotions. No matter how positively I tried to frame this, I couldn’t ignore my reactions, which are straight out of trauma. I struggle with situations where I am trapped, and especially situations that are unknown or seem like they will never end. An endlessly expanding travel window trapped on a train, with no options to get off or control anything, set off an anxiety attack in me. Suddenly, my wish for a simple family celebration was morphing into how to prepare for every conceivable threat.
It didn’t help that my husband was being positive about facing 12 hours of travel. I felt like a wimp who was letting everyone down by throwing away an affordable means to get to Savannah. On top of that, even though he was willing to consider this, I sensed it would be hard on him, too. He has strict requirements for what and when he can eat. We had no idea what our options would be, or what this would demand from him, and I worried he would end up sick. Sometimes the “cheaper way” isn’t really cheap in the end. I was convinced we would end up regretting this in a big way and it would be all my fault for wanting this.
Yes, at this point, my “catastrophe brain” was in full gear. Recognizing that no birthday trip was worth the stress this train travel was causing, I decided the train option was out. I’d drive before I would do that.
But now I was back to driving, which was the problem in the first place. So…what about flying? Could I find a cheap enough way to do this?
The thing I like about flying is that we’ve done it a lot, and we know the “routine.” We know the airline we like, the connecting airport we would have to fly through, and what the possible problems could be. Based on that, I knew the options we could control. Even if flying logistics went poorly, terminals had the kind of food and anything else we might need. If we had to change plans, at worst, we could get another flight or rent a car. Bottom line, we had some level of control, and we weren’t “trapped,” unlike being stuck on a train in the middle of nowhere at night, with no options, and no idea when it would end.
Now, let it never be said my catastrophe brain can’t find a problem. Of course, we could still get trapped on a plane for hours sitting on a runway. But I just told my catastrophe brain to take a hike.
So, if we flew, what about the cost? Looking over the savings accounts and budgets, I realized I had squirreled away a reasonable amount of money that might cover this trip, even with flights. I began to think, “Maybe this could work?”…which was quickly followed by, “It would work.” By this point, consciously or unconsciously, I had made my decision that we would fly. I just needed to find fares that hit my price target.
I found flights that were just a little over my budget that had good travel times and reasonable layovers. We could travel in a leisurely manner, enjoy the airports, not have to run to catch a connecting flight, and still get there in a reasonable amount of time — i.e., not exhausted.
Of course, then the “extras” hit. Add in the taxes, flight insurance, upgrading to get the seats we needed that would include the carry-ons and cover one checked bag…needless to say, by the time I finished, I was over the amount I wanted to pay by $300. Frankly, this was not horrible, and to anyone else, it would probably have been a good deal. But for me, with anxiety hormones flooding my system, I was convinced I was going to bankrupt us, all because I wanted something for my birthday.
If it isn’t obvious by now, none of this was really about money. It was about a lifelong struggle to feel worthy and deserving. Yet, I hung in there, and even as an old voice in my head screamed I was being selfish, I hit the “submit” button and booked the flights.
At this point, though, I was so rattled I was almost vibrating. I grabbed a pillow, retreated to the couch, and curled up in a semi-fetal position. While one part of my brain was convinced I’d failed all of us, the other part did breathing exercises to calm me before going to bed. Bed. Yes, a good night’s sleep would fix this. Tomorrow I would see things differently.
But, about those nightmares….
The dream…
We were home with Dad, and Mom was just “gone.” He was, of course, miserable and raging as usual, but in this nightmare, unlike all my other ones, he was almost an afterthought. I was fighting back against him, so he was basically irrelevant.
But the terrible thing was Mom’s disappearance. There was no explanation, no mention of where she was, why…or if she was okay…or even alive. I was filled with this sense of terror, and I didn’t know what to do.
As often happens in dreams, you change ages seamlessly. In this one, I went back in forth in age – one minute being a kid, the next being a young adult. So, in the next scene, I was that young 20-something still living at home. But my dream-self was very different from my real-life self, or even from who I’d been in previous nightmares. Here, I was strong, decisive, ready to move out and do what I wanted, no matter what he felt. In real life, I was frozen and unable to move forward at that age.
But in this dream someone had mentioned a graduate degree program in oceanography. This was an interesting twist because in real life, as a child, that was my hope for my future.
Anyway, in the dream, I decided: “I am a 20-something-year-old adult, why not try the graduate program? And I’ll leave tomorrow because I can do what I want. While I have no idea if it will be a good thing or not, I’ll just wing it and see”. But then I panicked and stopped. There was still the question: “What happened to Mom?” I was flooded with fear and a longing to make sure she was okay…and… I just needed her.
The next moment, I was at a beach in Rhode Island. It was related to the oceanography program, and someone asked if I could dive in the surf to check something out. I lunged at the chance to don my green Navy diver’s mask and fins and savor the quiet beneath the waves.
Again, this is another interesting twist because, as I’ll talk about later, that green diving mask is one of my Talismans in life, even as it was involved in a real-life trauma with my Father. More on that later.
Just as I was about to go under the waves, I suddenly flashed back on Mom again. “Where was she? Was she okay?!” I realized I couldn’t go on and do my own thing until I knew she was okay.
In that moment, my brain was like: “Duh, just call her!” So I pulled out my cell phone, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find her number anywhere. I’d HAD her number! Where did it go?
Frantic, I managed to get a relative’s attention. She gave me Mom’s phone number, then the relative disappeared. I was shaking with fear as I called the number but then that changed to confusion and shock.
Mom not only answered, but she sounded upbeat, pleasant, and relaxed, as if nothing was wrong. I started asking, “Where are you? Why did you go and not say anything? Are you okay?”
By this point, I was confused and hurt, and consumed with need and loneliness. I just wanted her back and didn’t understand her absence or her casual attitude. However, she didn’t answer any of my questions. She just suddenly drifted off, and I was left on the phone with no one. At this point, nothing else mattered to me except to get to the bottom of what was going on. So, I forgot about diving and instead went in search of her.
I finally found her with several family members, who were gathered on the beach, all busy laughing and talking. It appeared like a joyful family get-together except…it all felt “fake,” the energy was just…wrong. In fact, one of my relatives was on the side having an affair with some woman while his wife was pursuing her own romantic interests. Other family members were off on the periphery chatting with each other, and then they all just drifted away. And Mom, who had been talking with the group, also disappeared.
In the middle of all of this, I needed to find a bathroom, fast. This element shows up in many of my nightmares, and, as usual, in all of them, there were no bathrooms to be found, or they were broken, unavailable, fake, or disgusting.
Then the dream quickly switched back to me trying to find Mom. I called her again on the phone. This time, the relative who was previously having an affair answered and said he’d get her, but he left and never came back. No one came back. I was just left hanging on the phone.
I remembered thinking I needed my friend — I needed her comfort and help to try and make sense of this. It was all so hurtful, confusing, and strange. Everything reeked of ugly energy, and I was filled with sorrow and such a powerful sense of abandonment.
At this point, I gave up. I decided to stop searching. I was sad, demoralized, and hurt. And though I was no longer excited about going diving, I decided I would go anyway. At least I could still have something for me.
As I was about to put on my mask, it started raining. And worse, everyone at the beach had left. This meant if I went diving, it would be dangerous because no one would know where I was if I needed help.
But I decided, “What difference does it make? Regarding the rain, I’ll be underwater anyway…and well, so I’m alone. What else is new? I’ll just take a chance and do my own thing versus giving up. I deserve that much.”
The pointers to the next work
About this time, I woke up. I am used to the icky feelings that follow my nightmares, and once I get going in my day, those emotions usually subside.
But this one was so different, so much more intense. Tremendous hurt, abandonment, sorrow, despair, and guilt flooded me, accompanied by overwhelming loneliness. It would actually take me a two days to shed the pain.
In fact, as I headed into the bathroom that morning to try and start my day, I found this particular morning worse than the flashback ones. The heaviness of the nightmare’s emotions crushed me so much that I actually felt like throwing up.
I wracked my brain trying to think of how I could run from these feelings. Even as I knew I needed to face them, every fiber in my body just wanted to run away. Anywhere. But where could I go so that this blackness could not follow? And the answer was, nowhere…there was no running from it.
In addition to the reverberations from the nightmare, I was also still carrying the emotions from my trip planning the previous evening. Guilt. Fear. The overwhelming sense that I was a bad person…all because I had done the very thing I had trained myself my whole life NOT to do: Express my needs and expect to have them met. I was convinced that the trip would go poorly no matter how I arranged it, and it would be all my fault.
Like all hard mornings, I just started my routine, held my emotions, and got in the shower.
Later, I spoke with my husband and shared all of this. He reassured me, first of all, that he did not see our making this trip, even with flight expenses, to be the wrong thing. Nor was he upset with me. Instead, his eyes were filled with love and caring.
As we discussed the nightmare and the intense pain I was in, he pointed out some things:
First, it appeared to him that my dream reflected what was always my reality in the past — that I was abandoned and left on my own, no matter how I tried to reach out for help. Mom was just unavailable, and the energy in the dream, which felt bad and all wrong, reflected my sense that I didn’t fit in with life in that house. So, I would go inside me and do my own thing.
About that attitude, he noted that one of my strengths all through my life was my ability to create a place of refuge to feed my soul, even with no one else’s support. He said, “You always tried to make the best of things, no matter what, and you still do.”
I recognized that those “Moments of Respite” were my way of going on in spite of everything. Playing with my microscope, dissecting my specimens, reading my books, all those things fed me. I was living that mindset of: “So what if it was raining or I’m alone, I’ll just go do my own thing.”
The more we talked, two other things also became clear:
– The recurring theme in my nightmares, of not being able to find a bathroom, was just another reminder that I could never get my needs met, no matter how frantically I tried.
– And the oblivious or disappearing family members were just reminders that Dad had isolated me and had everyone convinced that he was the family hero and I was the outsider.
Did the nightmare unearth a deep well of pain that I still needed to deal with? Yes, for sure.
Is that cause for despair? I don’t think so…even on the mornings I want to run and hide. Those are just the times I need to take things extra slowly, and with much self-compassion.
No, the nightmare was just another reminder of why I am writing this book — to heal all the places where the heart still bleeds, and to next time, plan a trip with a lot less angst and a lot more joy.
So now, on to one last thing – a set of safety rules – then, the story.
Tags: abandonment, air travel, airfares, anxiety attacks, emotional reactions, flights, loneliness, pain, sexual abuse, sorrow, train travel, trapped, trauma
Soul Mosaic 
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