60.3 - The Truth Is...
The truth is, I hate being alone. Waking up alone after a nightmare, my eyes watery, my body shivering uncontrollably. It's the worst feeling in the world, having to be by yourself after a particularly brutal nightmare.
I'm not sure what brought them on, what caused them to resurface. I think part of it is the fact that it's the end of summer - schools are starting up again, frat parties are becoming frequent. Usually, however, these nightmares don't hit until after New Years. Sure, I get them here and there - that little reminder giving me an indication of why I'm a cop. But after New Years, they hit, full force, and I'm left in a cold sweat, tangled in my sheets, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.
So why I'm like that tonight is a bit of a surprise, given the fact that the weather is warm and I still have awhile before New Years, before February comes around. Once I've finally stopped shaking and sobbing, my hand finds my cell phone, and I dial that familiar number. I don't call often - usually I show up at her office door, or arrive for my scheduled appointment. But tonight - tonight, I'm calling. I don't know what else to do, what else might help me. Some suggest tea, some suggest a distraction. Neither of those help me at all. Not when I'm curled up on my bed, my chin on my knees, in a cold sweat after a terrible nightmare that had me waking up screaming, crying.
"Hello?" It surprises me how awake she sounds. My eyes fixate on the clock beside my bed. 1:48 am. Why the fuck is she awake at this hour? Granted, I'm awake, but I also woke up after a particularly rattling nightmare. She just sounds like sunshine, like she always does, as if I hadn't interrupted her sleep.
"You're up late," I mumble dryly, not even thinking before I speak. I never think before I speak, it seems. But I don't care much at the moment. No - at the moment, my thoughts are on my shaking body, my scattered mind, my inability to breathe normally. Nights are the worst. When your mind isn't clogged up with things from work, and you can focus on other things. I hate nights. I hate when my mind isn't busy, when my thoughts wander. They say that by dealing with your demons, you move past them. But it sure as hell doesn't feel like I'm movin' past it. The nightmares say otherwise.
"My daughter had a nightmare," she offers by way of explanation. Huh. Seems like nightmares seem are the running theme tonight. "Everything okay, Alexis?" she asks. It surprises me that she can tell it's me on the phone, based on my mumble and what I'm sure is a tearful tone. It takes me a moment before I figure she probably looked at the caller ID. My mind isn't exactly functioning at the moment, clearly.
It takes everything in me not to bitterly laugh in response to her question. Everything okay? Nothing's okay at the moment. I can't breathe, I can't stop shaking. Is that okay? 'Cause if it is, I'd hate to know what's not okay. My response sounds silly, even to me. "I had a nightmare."
I can hear the soft sigh, but I can't tell what she means by it without looking at her directly. Then again, I might not be able to tell what she means by the sigh if I were to see her at the moment. My brain isn't exactly functioning normally, and she can be a hard woman to read. I wonder if they train psychiatrists to keep a blank expression throughout therapy sessions. I bet they do. What the hell am I doing? My brain thinking about facial expressions and shrink training. God, I'm a mess.
I can hear some mumbling now, and a distinct, "Baby, I'll be back." Probably talking to her own daughter, and I feel terrible now dragging her away from her child. I'm an adult, a grown woman. And she's leaving her child to talk to me. Pathetic of me. I just wanna slap myself for seeming so childlike. It actually disgusts me a little bit.
"What happened in your nightmare?" she asks, and I can hear a door close. She's probably in her home office now, away from her daughter to help me. God.
I try and clear my head a little, steady my voice before speaking. 'Cause God knows my voice isn't exactly normal at the moment. It never is after a nightmare. I can't sit still at the moment, so I untangle myself from my sheets and stand up slowly, waiting until I have my feet underneath me before I begin to pace my bedroom. It seems so big when I'm in there by myself, and I'm wishing I wasn't by myself at the moment. I'm wishing I had someone laying next to me, holding me, making me feel safe once more. As a cop, I'm always sure I can protect myself. But knowing I can protect myself and feeling safe are two different things to me. I hate feeling like I need someone to help me feel safe after a nightmare, hate wishing someone could hold me close after one. For someone who's very independent, it makes me feel very needy.
I sigh softly. "The usual. The memories of the whole thing, with some weird alterations," I explain. It's always generally the same nightmare. Flashbacks. "What was your daughters nightmare about?" I ask quietly, resting my forehead against my bedroom door as I focus on my breathing.
"The wicked witch of the West," she replies nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Well then. I wish my nightmares were as simple as that.
"I hate being along after these nightmares," I admit, exhaling slowly. "I don't like to think I need someone after these... but the truth is, I kind of feel like I do. I want that feeling of safety back, you know?" I mumble. I'm not sure if I make sense. It's the middle of the night, for fucks sake. I'd be surprised as hell if I made sense at the moment.
She listens carefully - I can tell she is, even without seeing her. "I'm surprised you're having the nightmares lately. If memory serves me correct, they don't usually start up regularly until about mid-January." According to her awhile back, it was very common for women to have nightmares years after their assault, around the time the assault occurred. I thought I was simply crazy, but after she'd told me that, and after some of my own research, I found she was actually correct with her statements. Not that it made me feel any better. "The truth is, you never feel completely safe after the nightmares," she explains after a moments pause. Lots of truths tonight, I note to myself. "There's always going to be a small feeling of a lack of safety, no matter whether or not you're alone, no matter how well you can protect yourself. It's something that you come to terms with over time."
I listen to her thoughts, thinking she doesn't sound as awake as I'd assumed. Her voice says she's awake, but her thoughts are a bit disorganized tonight. I look at the clock again. I'm not going back to sleep any time soon, but she should go care for her daughter and get some rest herself. "I'm sorry for calling so late, Dr. Milani..."
"It's alright," she shakes off my apologies. I'm sure she's used to calls from patients in the middle of the night. But I'm also sure she was surprised to see me calling tonight. "Settle down with a movie tonight, drink some tea, try and relax. Don't focus on sleeping. Just calming down and relaxing." She pauses for a moment, and I can hear her flipping through something. "I have an opening tomorrow at five o'clock if that's good for you?" she asks. She's good like that, having an open appointment if a patient needs it. Normally I'd wait, but these nightmares have been frequent, and failing to better themselves.
"Five o'clock sounds good," I reply softly, rubbing my temples. "I'll see you then. Thank you..." And with that, I hang up, resting my phone back on the bedside table. I turn on the television set in my room, flipping to a movie. I like the noise, the company when I'm all alone, be it by choice or by circumstance. The truth is, it makes me feel as though I'm not alone, at least, not alone tonight.
Muse: Alexis Russo
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU (Original Character)
Word Count: 1455
I'm not sure what brought them on, what caused them to resurface. I think part of it is the fact that it's the end of summer - schools are starting up again, frat parties are becoming frequent. Usually, however, these nightmares don't hit until after New Years. Sure, I get them here and there - that little reminder giving me an indication of why I'm a cop. But after New Years, they hit, full force, and I'm left in a cold sweat, tangled in my sheets, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.
So why I'm like that tonight is a bit of a surprise, given the fact that the weather is warm and I still have awhile before New Years, before February comes around. Once I've finally stopped shaking and sobbing, my hand finds my cell phone, and I dial that familiar number. I don't call often - usually I show up at her office door, or arrive for my scheduled appointment. But tonight - tonight, I'm calling. I don't know what else to do, what else might help me. Some suggest tea, some suggest a distraction. Neither of those help me at all. Not when I'm curled up on my bed, my chin on my knees, in a cold sweat after a terrible nightmare that had me waking up screaming, crying.
"Hello?" It surprises me how awake she sounds. My eyes fixate on the clock beside my bed. 1:48 am. Why the fuck is she awake at this hour? Granted, I'm awake, but I also woke up after a particularly rattling nightmare. She just sounds like sunshine, like she always does, as if I hadn't interrupted her sleep.
"You're up late," I mumble dryly, not even thinking before I speak. I never think before I speak, it seems. But I don't care much at the moment. No - at the moment, my thoughts are on my shaking body, my scattered mind, my inability to breathe normally. Nights are the worst. When your mind isn't clogged up with things from work, and you can focus on other things. I hate nights. I hate when my mind isn't busy, when my thoughts wander. They say that by dealing with your demons, you move past them. But it sure as hell doesn't feel like I'm movin' past it. The nightmares say otherwise.
"My daughter had a nightmare," she offers by way of explanation. Huh. Seems like nightmares seem are the running theme tonight. "Everything okay, Alexis?" she asks. It surprises me that she can tell it's me on the phone, based on my mumble and what I'm sure is a tearful tone. It takes me a moment before I figure she probably looked at the caller ID. My mind isn't exactly functioning at the moment, clearly.
It takes everything in me not to bitterly laugh in response to her question. Everything okay? Nothing's okay at the moment. I can't breathe, I can't stop shaking. Is that okay? 'Cause if it is, I'd hate to know what's not okay. My response sounds silly, even to me. "I had a nightmare."
I can hear the soft sigh, but I can't tell what she means by it without looking at her directly. Then again, I might not be able to tell what she means by the sigh if I were to see her at the moment. My brain isn't exactly functioning normally, and she can be a hard woman to read. I wonder if they train psychiatrists to keep a blank expression throughout therapy sessions. I bet they do. What the hell am I doing? My brain thinking about facial expressions and shrink training. God, I'm a mess.
I can hear some mumbling now, and a distinct, "Baby, I'll be back." Probably talking to her own daughter, and I feel terrible now dragging her away from her child. I'm an adult, a grown woman. And she's leaving her child to talk to me. Pathetic of me. I just wanna slap myself for seeming so childlike. It actually disgusts me a little bit.
"What happened in your nightmare?" she asks, and I can hear a door close. She's probably in her home office now, away from her daughter to help me. God.
I try and clear my head a little, steady my voice before speaking. 'Cause God knows my voice isn't exactly normal at the moment. It never is after a nightmare. I can't sit still at the moment, so I untangle myself from my sheets and stand up slowly, waiting until I have my feet underneath me before I begin to pace my bedroom. It seems so big when I'm in there by myself, and I'm wishing I wasn't by myself at the moment. I'm wishing I had someone laying next to me, holding me, making me feel safe once more. As a cop, I'm always sure I can protect myself. But knowing I can protect myself and feeling safe are two different things to me. I hate feeling like I need someone to help me feel safe after a nightmare, hate wishing someone could hold me close after one. For someone who's very independent, it makes me feel very needy.
I sigh softly. "The usual. The memories of the whole thing, with some weird alterations," I explain. It's always generally the same nightmare. Flashbacks. "What was your daughters nightmare about?" I ask quietly, resting my forehead against my bedroom door as I focus on my breathing.
"The wicked witch of the West," she replies nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Well then. I wish my nightmares were as simple as that.
"I hate being along after these nightmares," I admit, exhaling slowly. "I don't like to think I need someone after these... but the truth is, I kind of feel like I do. I want that feeling of safety back, you know?" I mumble. I'm not sure if I make sense. It's the middle of the night, for fucks sake. I'd be surprised as hell if I made sense at the moment.
She listens carefully - I can tell she is, even without seeing her. "I'm surprised you're having the nightmares lately. If memory serves me correct, they don't usually start up regularly until about mid-January." According to her awhile back, it was very common for women to have nightmares years after their assault, around the time the assault occurred. I thought I was simply crazy, but after she'd told me that, and after some of my own research, I found she was actually correct with her statements. Not that it made me feel any better. "The truth is, you never feel completely safe after the nightmares," she explains after a moments pause. Lots of truths tonight, I note to myself. "There's always going to be a small feeling of a lack of safety, no matter whether or not you're alone, no matter how well you can protect yourself. It's something that you come to terms with over time."
I listen to her thoughts, thinking she doesn't sound as awake as I'd assumed. Her voice says she's awake, but her thoughts are a bit disorganized tonight. I look at the clock again. I'm not going back to sleep any time soon, but she should go care for her daughter and get some rest herself. "I'm sorry for calling so late, Dr. Milani..."
"It's alright," she shakes off my apologies. I'm sure she's used to calls from patients in the middle of the night. But I'm also sure she was surprised to see me calling tonight. "Settle down with a movie tonight, drink some tea, try and relax. Don't focus on sleeping. Just calming down and relaxing." She pauses for a moment, and I can hear her flipping through something. "I have an opening tomorrow at five o'clock if that's good for you?" she asks. She's good like that, having an open appointment if a patient needs it. Normally I'd wait, but these nightmares have been frequent, and failing to better themselves.
"Five o'clock sounds good," I reply softly, rubbing my temples. "I'll see you then. Thank you..." And with that, I hang up, resting my phone back on the bedside table. I turn on the television set in my room, flipping to a movie. I like the noise, the company when I'm all alone, be it by choice or by circumstance. The truth is, it makes me feel as though I'm not alone, at least, not alone tonight.
Muse: Alexis Russo
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU (Original Character)
Word Count: 1455