The Side of the Bed Closest to the Door

I’ve moved a lot in my life. In fact, there was a time when my ex-husband’s employer moved us five times in five years.

At a certain point in my life, I noticed that with each move, I often ended up sleeping on the opposite side of the bed than before. I didn’t consistently choose the right side or the left side of the mattress. Every time I moved, I unconsciously chose the side of the bed closest to the door. I’ve instinctively positioned myself for a “quick get-away,” in the event of danger. I’m sure this is a primal survival impulse that is just a part of my “wiring.”

Many years ago, my old therapist told me that I would be “recovering” for the rest of my life. I didn’t believe him; at least I did not want to. At the time, his statement felt hopeless to me. I felt permanently broken. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with my anguish forever.

In the years since, I’ve spent a great deal of time learning to parent myself, to free myself of my family scapegoat mantle, and to come to terms with my anger, grief, and PTSD.

I have healed at a level that I never thought was possible. Although my abuse will always be a part of me, the majority of the time, my abuse no longer feels present, nor is it the lens through which I view my life.

Although I have greatly minimized the effects of my mistreatment, my therapist was right. I’ve reached a place that “recovering for the rest of my life” doesn’t feel “hopeless.” Instead I feel a loving acceptance towards the part of me who will probably always sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door.