From my journal. 4:15 a.m. Saturday July 22nd

Nightmare:

I live with butter and S.B. I come home. It's my birthday. I'm ready for a peaceful and quiet celebration with friends. One person comes into the house. They don't say hello to me. Then another. More, more, and more people.

No one is coming there for me. This is going to be a raging party. People are pissing and fucking on the floor. Cum, piss, shit are everywhere. People are in my room, stealing my clothes and CDs, ashing in my pants and knocking over precious things. The refridgerator is in another room. I don't even know where the food is!

It's as if everything I love is in danger.

My enemies are there and my friends are enemies. I confront S.B. "I can't believe you guys would disrespect me like this." I'm expecting compassion and forgiveness, but he's been waiting for this all night. "Well, you know what, Megan? You have been nothing but controlling so...get used to it 'cause we're not going anywhere." His face looks like a fat snake.

It's as if my trust in my friends has always been an illusion.

More people coming.

Sean enters. Thank God! The man I love. The man I trust. He's very thin. Thin neck. Thin cheeks. Too much. New glasses and flannel shirt. We pass through the living room and I see a blanket with Japanese characters on it. I don't understand them.

I run to him. We embrace. I'm safe now. I'm not alone now. But he's talking to others and whispering. He brings a six pack to the kitchen. He's okay with this party.

We go to another part of the house. It's flooded. Damaged. White plastic chairs floating. (The two women who once betrayed me) are having the time of their lives. They're right at home. I turn to Sean when I realize that Butter has been going along with all of this.

Wow.

That hurts.

Sean: "Well, they do have a point, honey. You're pretty tight with things..."

"I'M STINGY?!"

Wow.

It's as if my strongest values have been challenged. As if I'm meeting a part of myself that is ugly, terrible and hatable.

And everyone else agrees with that, so I have nothing to stand on. I can't disagree. Their disapproval echoes around me. So...I give up.

OH GOD! I lose my tongue!

I keep dropping my tongue out. It's too small. Too big. Every time I try to put it back in by swallowing, I choke and gag. It's dirty. It's damaged. Chewed up.

I give up. I am willing to face this part of myself.

I'm stingy. I'm a control freak. Oh well. I guess I'd better change or I will literally lose everything.