God just won’t let me sleep!

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I really don’t sleep well. I wonder if I ever have. I sleep poorly, suffer from nightmares and, worst of all, from night terrors. The kind that have you out of bed screaming without really knowing what’s happening or being able to get yourself out of it. And the only blessing is that usually I don’t remember it in the morning.

Why? Why don’t I sleep well? Why do I have these issues?

I think it’s because the god of my childhood was a bastard.

You may not think it’s fair to ‘blame god’ for my past fears or my present sleep problems. And I’m not really. I’m blaming the image I have had of god all my life. An image that I am admittedly responsible for creating and perpetuating, but one I haven’t yet been able to escape. An all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful bully, who takes great joy in watching you get screwed over.

Man, that’s sad, powerful stuff, isn’t it? And it all started before I was even five or six years old. As soon as I was old enough to understand it all. And believe me, that was early.

I’ve heard it said that the picture you have of god when you’re a child mirrors the picture you have of your grandfather.

Yeah, that definitely makes sense. My grandfather was a bastard. In fact, both my grandfathers pretty much were, but one more than the other. One definitely hurt me more than the other. And I think he was my cardboard cutout when I was forming my god picture.

Mind you, I had a lot of extra help there. My childhood religion did a LOT to influence that picture. It’s little wonder I’m not religious now. (I’m not sure I could be and remain sane.) But I still can’t really feel safe. Not anywhere. Sometimes I find that terrifying, and other times I just find it unbearably sad.

I grew up in a fundamental Christian family. They were, and are, lovely people, my family. Lovely and loving. However, our religion, THEIR religion, was not.

Take fire and brimstone, add a heap of terror and a child’s understanding of you’re-going-to-hell-if-you-don’t-get-this-exactly-right, tack on the worry that you can’t possibly get it right, mix well with trying extremely hard to get it right and saying the same ’sinner’s prayer’ at least four dozen times (I’m being conservative), being baptized twice (in case it didn’t ‘take’), and finish off with being quite sure it’s still not ‘right‘. My childhood in a bottle, ready to serve.

And the worst part is, being the intelligent, conscientious, precocious child I was, I had to worry about the state of everybody’s else’s soul as well. After all, I was responsible for them knowing ‘the good news‘, too.

And all the while, that super-duper bully was there waiting…just waiting for me to mess up. Put just one foot wrong.

My god, how did I not only survive that, but end up a functional, productive, mostly happy adult?

I have no answer except that I’m a survivor. How else do you make it through? And I always do.

Through a list of average, bad, and VERY BAD men and relationships. Past a number of bosses who seemed bent on emotionally abusing and/or destroying me and my self-esteem. Through a lot of very hard times. But I did. I do. I continue to not only survive, but go beyond that.

I’m married to a good man, a good father, a man I love, a man I have amazing chemistry with and a good friendship with as well. I have three amazing, intelligent and beautiful children. I have a difficult, responsible job that challenges and excites me.

And yet, when I close my eyes, it’s not safe. All the scary things are still there.

I’ve dealt with so much in so many ways. Yes, I’ll raise my hand and say I’ve been through therapy, with a number of different therapists. And it’s better. I don’t sleep with my fists clenched anymore. I don’t wake up with my shoulders aching anymore. But I still don’t sleep well.

I’ve met and comforted my inner child. I’ve faced the things that happened in my childhood. I’ve confronted those that hurt me. I’ve distanced myself from, and reconciled myself to, my family. I’ve left the church. I’ve journalled, talked, done the twelve steps, tried self-hypnosis, used every sleep aid on the market, read every related book I could find, google’d every website. I still don’t sleep well.

I’ve been on this earth quite a number of years, and really past the age of four, I’ve never slept well. I’m coming to the place where I believe I just maybe never will.

And that, is a very lonely, depressing and frightening place. But there is worse. A lot worse. And I know that. So I am grateful for what I have, and I carry on.