Just Because I Can’t See You…
The ring of the phone, the call of a voice in a crowd, a sniff of cologne….
When we’ve experienced assault, the smallest thing can set us off. Are triggers all around us?
It lurks in the background, deeply buried, or is it? We’ve found that triggers are everywhere, and they never go away.
I jump and gasp when my husband silently enters a room and touches me
In movies, women melt into the guy’s arms, throw their heads back, and turn to kiss the guy. I jump and some sound comes out of my voice, and it sounds, well…
…not very loving.
I wondered why that reaction is and has been a thing with me.
It dawned on me that it might be the result of my early experience with the trauma of rape.
In that battle, I was forced into a room and as I fought back, was captured. If I think about the battle, smells come back 59 years later.
Those smells are waiting. Sweat mixed with cigarettes and booze… it makes me nauseous.
I’ve researched this reaction and during the search, I found The Dana Group. They’re in Massachusetts and their webpage gives you access to some really good blogs. One of the articles was on the long-term physical effects of trauma. https://www.dana-group.com/how-does-trauma-affect-a-person-long-term/
Trauma triggers the autonomic nervous system (ANS), which is the bodily system responsible for triggering a fight or flight response.
For some, the ANS doesn’t resume back to normal when the threat has passed and remains activated. It continues to tell the brain and body it is still in danger, keeping it revved up in a prolonged state.
So, flight or fight? Huh…
In the August 23 blog, I talk about how I got into a fist fight with my first husband (embarrassed here) but until now I never linked that to the reaction to my current husband’s stealth move that makes my heart beat like a wildebeest chased by a lion, or to the burst of violent anger with hubby #1.
I needed to keep looking into this thing that owns me.
I visited the Northpoint Recovery website. They offer addiction counseling services in Idaho. I don’t suffer from drug or alcohol addiction, so I started to close the page. Then, I saw a quote on their homepage from Mr. Rogers.
“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.” ~ Fred Rogers
Okay, I was hooked. When I was alone with my baby girl, in our first little apartment, wondering if I could survive marriage to husband #1, we would watch Mr. Rogers. When he spoke to the screen
“You've made this day a special day by just your being you. There's only one person in the whole world like you and people can like you just because you're you.”
I remember tears of longing for being loved slipped down my cheeks, a dish towel damp on my lap, while my sweet girl pounded the tray on her baby walker.
Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything mentionable can be more manageable.
In my poem in Our Silent Voice: Break the Silence, I write about past trauma and how long-term effects of that trauma still live. I used “he” instead of “them” because it was the devastatingly cute drummer in the band that set it all up.
He Always Comes
I thought I put it away
Far from my heart
Deep in my mind
Tied up in knots
Exiled
Banished
Displaced
Hidden
He comes back again
When my eyes are closed
Invading my meditation
Intruding through sleep
Waking
Alerting
Warning
Threatening
I breathe deep and watch
When I turn my back
I have to look
I hear a sound
Now
Behind
Around
Everywhere
I feel his hands around my neck
His breath floods my ear
The knee is pressing my gut
His voice is set to kill
Awake
Sweat
Sigh
Again
He always comes.
At first, I was thrown off the path taken by a normal teen girl starting her Senior Year. I acted like “a normal” but truthfully, I was a mess trying not to be. The monster dreams started quickly but as I matured into a wife and mother, I never talked about it with any other human.
I did my duty, shoved it down and away, I loved my daughters and tried to please my husband; the one I punched….
Now that I’ve web-traveled to Massachusetts and Idaho, here’s what I think.
Trauma can be obvious, and it can be hidden so long it seems unreal.
No matter what, it needs to be mentionable.
Our writers have found that finally putting the event on paper in a readable form, it becomes a bit separate from the writer. And if it’s submitted to www.oursilentvoice.com/submit we will start the process of manageable.
I can say with certainty that just because I can’t see the husband I love when he silently walks into the room, it doesn’t mean he’s not there.
I will read this blog to my stealthy husband, so he knows the wildebeest he’s married to.
Mentionable and manageable.
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