It Comes Back Without Warning
I had the dream again.
It’s the kind that’s stuck in my bones—one I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try.
But this isn’t just a dream. It’s a memory with claws.
It drags me back to the worst part of my life, to a place I’ve spent years trying to bury. I’ve run, I’ve pushed, I’ve tried to forget. Yet, no matter how far I go, it always finds me.
I’m Back in That Kitchen
In the dream, I’m screaming.
“I can’t take this! I just cannot take it anymore!”
The words are heavy. They’ve been sitting in silence too long. My voice cracks with the weight of all the things I didn’t say when it mattered most. The pain cuts deep—sharp and real.
For a moment, I’m back there. Back in that kitchen. Back in that house. Trapped in a relationship that slowly broke me down.
When My Body Gives In
I collapse.
My body gives in and falls to the floor. My back leans against the kitchen cupboard like it’s the only thing holding me up. I’m breathing like I’ve just run a 10km race—fast, shallow, and panicked.
My chest tightens. My ears ring. Then, I hear the door handle turning. I can’t see him clearly, but I know it’s him. I feel it. And just as the door starts to open…
I wake up. And lie there, confused. Annoyed. My heart still feels like it’s outside of my chest.
I hate how this dream makes me feel—small, helpless, shaken. It lingers long after the light of day has arrived.
Because in the dream, I know I need someone. I need comfort. I want someone to tell me that everything will be okay, that I’ll survive this storm. But I don’t reach for anyone. I sit with it. I let the pain wash over me.
Sometimes, I need that moment. Even if it breaks me open a little.
What Healing Actually Looks Like
Still, waking up from that dream leaves a mark.
It clings to me as the day begins. It’s like a weight I didn’t ask for—but somehow, it ends up back in my hands.
I hate how it takes me back to a version of myself I’ve fought so hard to outgrow. But maybe that’s the reminder: I’m no longer her. Even when the dream tries to convince me otherwise.
Healing doesn’t always mean the past disappears. In fact, it often comes in waves. Sometimes, it loops back when you least expect it. Other times, it shows up at 3 a.m. when all you want is a peaceful night.
But, I wake up. I breathe. And move.
And I keep going.
And for now, that’s enough.
Mental Matters is a resource and information platform. We do not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. While the information on our website is for general awareness and support, it should not replace professional advice. For any mental health concerns, please consult a qualified healthcare or mental health professional.
Sr Celeste Groenewald Midwife Rietondale
The Symptoms of Clinical Depression
