I woke up in a cold sweat and with a thumping headache. The dream I’d forced myself awake from, (before my alarm) is still vivid. I was crying in my sleep; deep uncontrollable sobbing and painful tears.
I don’t remember the context but I do know in my dream I was a child. I’ve a hazy recollection of Mum and Dad.
The sheer intensity shocked me, I felt emotionally and physically exhausted.
It’s Thursday, I reached for my phone to check not on breakfast club duty – it was left a little vague for today. There’s a swift reply, I can have the morning off. (I can’t pretend I’m not glad). Hauling my aching body from the damp sheets I get into the shower, maybe I can wash away this lingering anxiety.
I cancel PT. The thought of torturing my body further seems impossible, then I crawl back into bed and sleep deep and dreamless for another two hours.
I could hear Hettie down stairs shaking her collar, she is usually the last up in our household and she’s ready for breakfast. It’s a subtle hint for me to move.
I reach for paracetamol to hopefully ease the aching dullness I’m feeling every where.
The sky is blue after over night rain it’s unseasonably warm- I’ve no idea what to wear but to be honest I don’t really care. It’s the decision making process that is the problem at this moment.
So what the hell is wrong with me? Something tells me that I am not really ill.
Of course be lying if I pretended I didn’t think I know.
I’ve been struggling more than I want to admit to myself recently.
I know to expect six months after a bereavement is going to be a brutal time . Thought I was invincible though, that I’ve done grief as it has ebbed and flowed for the last decade. Suddenly it doesn’t feel fair that I’m experiencing the second wave potentially a tsunami.
I know enough about the brain to know that it will try its best to process what has happened in my lifetime.
Crying in my dream is a sign, a deeply meaningful and necessary reflection of where I am in the healing process.
Now that I have started counselling I am hopefully safely opening the boxes of suppressed emotions, but also am promoting my subconscious mind to do exactly the same thing while I sleep.
No wonder it is difficult and hard to do.
For 10 years, I had to stay strong and put my own feelings aside to care for Ken and the kids. Maybe my mind finally feels safe enough to drop its guard and release those years of survival stress?
Dream tears, it is said, act as a literal and emotional release valve. It is the brain’s way of clearing out the years of sadness, frustration, and helplessness I obviously couldn’t fully express at the time (though I tried to share in my blog).
With my sensible head back in gear this afternoon, I understand waking up after an intense emotional dream in a cold sweat and with headache a very real physical reaction to deep psychological stress and grief.
Indeed when you begin opening up years of suppressed emotions in counselling, your nervous system can go into a ‘fight and flight’ response during sleep. This surge of stress hormones (like cortisol and adrenaline) causes your heart rate to spike, triggers sweating, and tightens blood vessels, which often results in a waking headache.
This is often a common physical response to severe stress, trauma, and grief processing.
But does anyone ever tell you you might feel like that?
No, so that’s the reason I am sharing with you.
I’ve got a counselling session this evening so it’ll be interesting to find a if my theory is actually therapy.
One step at a time.
But I feel much better with a little understanding.
