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I didn’t know how angry I was until I went to therapy on Thursday.  Jr. has moved back in and he’s been here for a couple weeks now.  He might be leaving to go back to his fiance but we won’t know for a couple of weeks.  So, in the meantime, he’s on vacation.  But, the anger in my heart didn’t surface as anger.

It surfaced as Day-mares.  I made up the word, but it turns out I wasn’t the first one.  It’s actually in the dictionary .  Day-mares are daydreams that go horribly wrong.

My most recent day-mare involved Jr’s mom.  In fact all of my day-mares do.  Hubby had passed away and, let’s call her Joan, rings the doorbell a couple days later.  I answer the door to find her on my front porch stating that she is here to claim her share of my husband’s belongings, including the house.  There is a moving truck sitting on the road outside my home containing her belongings.  I slam the door in her face and call the cops, explaining to them that hubby was her husband two husbands ago and she should have no claim.  In the day-mare I’m not on the deed, so the house isn’t automatically mine upon his passing.  By law it would go mostly to me and partially to his children.  The cops show up and talk to us both.  They explain the law and Joan starts to try to convince Jr. to claim his share so she can move in.

At this point, I somehow shake myself loose.  This day-mare is intensely real.  The emotions are vivid the images are live and in color.  It’s not an hallucination though.  It is indeed a daydream gone very far off the rails.  I’m shaking from the anger and fear and stress that I was feeling in the day-mare.  And it takes me hours to shake it.

Back to Thursday’s therapy session and Karen is looking up symptoms to see if this fits in anywhere or is an indication of something new emerging.  But she finds nothing.  So, she starts talking about my anger and stress.  And suddenly it floods out.  All the anger over Jr. staying here, basically on a vacation from life.  I’m dropping f-bombs every third word.  I’m yelling.  I want to work and can’t and he can and won’t.  He’s focused on all the wrong things in life.  There’s no reason to work hard and make a life for himself, because he can have fun and have Dad bail him out if it gets too rough.  A flood of anger and anxiety pour from me as she just sits and lets it happen.  Because it has to happen.  If the day-mares are going to stop, then this outpouring of rage is crucial.

I think that’s the most important part of therapy for me.  I have a safe place to just spew out all the garbage and someone there to either validate me or gently move me to a new understanding.  I know not everyone likes therapy, but it works great for me for that exact reason.  I have to let this stuff out to hubby in small doses.  He just can’t take the full brunt of my anger and stress.  But Karen can and does.

Let me know if you’ve experienced the phenomenon of day-mares and how you’ve coped.  I’d love to hear your experiences!

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