I was just aimlessly scrolling through Pinterest trying to kill some time during an afternoon slump at work and I came across this quote. It triggered a little rabbit hole of memories that made me want to write and share.
“As a little girl, I was scared that there would be monsters sleeping under my bed. Never did I imagine that I would grow up, and have a real one sleeping in it, right beside me, and oh so very soundly.”
I can vividly remember laying in bed listening to him snore soundly asleep while I was trying to quietly sob so that I wouldn’t wake him up and make things worse. Laying with my back facing him, on the smallest sliver of the edge of the bed that I could possibly take up, holding the side of the pillow over my face to muffle my sobs. Most nights I would cry myself to sleep or lay awake with insomnia from the stress while he just slept like a baby.
In the beginning, I used to lay there hoping he would wake up and reach for me and hold me and comfort me and actually want to make me feel better. In the middle I would pray that he wouldn’t wake up because it would just mean more trouble for me. By the end, his snoring and his peace was like nails down a chalkboard for me… it would literally make my blood boil that someone so cruel and so mean and so heartless could sleep at night without issue.
There were plenty of nights where he was so mad at me for one reason or another that he wouldn’t even let me sleep in the bed. I would literally be laying on the hard wood floor with a pillow and a small blanket from the couch… listening to him snore from there. Then there were the many, many times where he would lock me out of the bedroom completely. I would lay on the floor, outside of the locked door, sobbing… like snot dripping down my face and puddling on the floor sobbing. There was that one foolish time I actually went to the couch and thought I was going to be able to sleep there, but oh no. The Narcissist came out at some point screaming at me that I obviously didn’t care about him at all and only cared about myself… and how dare I think that I deserved to even sleep on the couch. That night, he dragged me by my hair across the hard wood floor and left me in the hallway without even the blanket… I didn’t dare get back up for it.
I didn’t get much sleep during my years with The Narcissist. My heart wouldn’t let me… my desperate need to try to fix things, make things better, prove my love, prove my worth… I was hurting and sleep was hard when I was hurting. Sometimes, my body and brain would just shut down because I couldn’t even process anymore abuse…. but those were only at times when I actually felt momentarily safe… like in the middle of a movie, during a car ride, or in the middle of the day when he was at work. For the most part though, if he wasn’t intentionally sleep depriving me… he was sleeping soundly while I was suffering.