Startlingly enough ....

One of the symptoms or effects of PTSD is an exaggerated startle response.  Loud sudden noises or unexpected sounds cause immediate panic, often resulting in hyperventilating and crying.  It can take literally hours to come back down.  And it doesn't have to be from something done TO or AT me, it can be anything. 

Not long ago I was going through some of my things that I have in storage, and as I walked away from the boxes I wasn't looking down at the floor and stepped on some bubble wrap.  It was unexpected, it was loud, and it sounded like gunfire ... and the more I tried to get away the more I stepped on it, making it exponentially worse.  Once some gentle hands helped me away from the spot, off the bubble wrap, then the crying started.  I was enveloped in a big hug until I got it under control.  I'm so lucky to be surrounded by love these days.

The only thing is, although I can usually control the things that I do, where I go, what or whom I surround myself with, I can't control everything.  Nobody can, or should.  And as a result, stuff happens. 

A broom falls over from leaning on a wall.  BOOM!!!

A kid sneaks around a corner and jumps out to scare his brother.  BOOM!!!

The dog hears a sound outside and starts barking at the door.  BOOM!!!

A random car backfires.  BOOM!!!

A television commercial comes on and starts out suddenly with a loud burst of noise.  BOOM!!!

None of these are things that are aimed at me, or intended to surprise me, or have anything to do with me at all, yet every single one of them and many other random similar things keep happening and every single time they startle the crap out of me.  I shake, sometimes scream, hyperventilate, can't think straight, I'm disoriented, and often I cry. 

The people around me know that I have this "problem".  That I don't like to be startled.  I appreciate that they don't want me to be scared, but I also don't want to be a special case that can't take a joke, or can't handle some good-natured fun; yet every time it happens, no matter how much I try, I get the same reaction ... shaking, can't breathe, confusion, crying ....

I hear a lot of people saying I should seek counselling, find someone to talk to, etc.  Well, here's the thing.  Because of Covid, the local Women's Centre is closed.  Plus over the past 16 years I have been to enough one-on-one sessions, group meetings, PTSD study groups that I could probably teach a class on it myself.  There's really nothing to talk about, I'm all talked out.  I've gotten so used to telling my "story" to everyone who needs to hear it (doctors, lawyers, counsellors, etc) that I've become numb.  It doesn't help me to talk about it, I have nothing to talk about. 

Instead I think I need to work on settling my mind.  Physically he cannot hurt me.  But my mind still attacks me all the time, awake and asleep.  Either through daytime PTSD issues or nightmares when I'm able to sleep. 

A few people have commented that they find it odd that one of the main things I had to take with me when I left were my books.  I'm talking real paper books.  I don't do e-books.  I have to feel the book in my hand, turn the pages, smell the paper -- I love books.  Yep, they're heavy, especially when you're shipping them in boxes and you have as many as I do.  And I really didn't even take ALL of my books, just the ones I value the most.  I took my favourite cookbooks, quilting books, novel series for various authors, mysteries, historical fiction, magical tales, collectibles, and some books on spirituality and mindfulness.  Those last ones are the ones I think I need to read now. 

I also have one that I should get back to that will help my body and mind. I had started dabbling in yoga a few years back and I liked it.  When I did it regularly it helped me feel physically and mentally more at peace, more relaxed.  Both of those are things I'm in desperate need of now more than ever.  I think if I get back into doing it on a daily basis (as much as my sprained knee will allow for now) I'll end up much more the better for it.  My yoga mat stands rolled up right within sight of the computer as I'm typing this, it's literally right beside me and has been since I arrived here.  This book was behind me on the shelf with the others.  They're both just sitting there waiting for me to pick them up and get back to it.  As they say, there's no time like the present. 

There are a lot of things right now that I have absolutely no control over.  I can't control how fast or slow the legal system works.  I can't control what my lawyers are able to do for me or how quickly they can do it.  I can't control the people who live with and around me that unintentionally startle the crap out of me on a regular basis, nor would I want to.  But I can control how much effort I can put into helping myself heal.  Like I said, I've done the classes, the groups, the sessions, I've talked about all the stuff to all the people, and I'm done.  It's time to work from the inside out.  Here we go ...

Tiptoeing through life ....

Since I've been away from him, every day is a learning experience.  I spent the last 30 years of my life with one abuser then another, I've spent a lot of time having to be who I was told or expected to be, to behave as expected, to say or not say certain things, to basically keep quiet and stay out of the way or face the consequences.

Now I'm out.  I'm free.  And I have no idea who I am.  I know who I was, many years ago, but not who I am now.  I don't know how to react to certain things because there is nobody to tell me.  I don't know how to even do certain things or how to function in regular daily life because I have nobody to tell me how to do it, how to behave, what to DO.  It should be liberating, but in truth it's terrifying. 

Every now and then I find myself saying something that to me makes sense.  I have always had strong beliefs in certain things, I'm very passionate about the things and people I care about, there are some things about myself that I know for sure, others that I believe I know, and still others that I'm afraid to find out. 

I am so grateful to be able to stay where I'm staying and know that I'm safe, that sometimes I get a little too comfortable and I let things slip.  A month or so ago I made a comment about something to someone I hadn't seen in a while.  It wasn't a particularly bad thing I said, just an opinion.  I was told that I was wrong and that I should reassess my thought process.  So I will.

I have often referred to my first ex as "the idiot".  It was my opinion that if someone has beaten, raped, berated, smothered, tortured, threatened to and tried to kill me, and abused me in every single sense of the word over and over, I have the right to call him an idiot.  By definition an idiot is a stupid or foolish person or someone who does stupid or foolish things; that description fits him pretty well.  It was suggested to me that by calling him this, it made me look bad and that I was stooping to his level and that it would be better if I didn't.  I wasn't told outright not to do it, it was just suggested and not in a nasty way, it was said to me by people I love and respect and who have my best interests at heart.  And so I will.

Last night I was watching a movie with my sister and something she said struck me as particularly funny and I made a joke about it on Facebook.  I didn't mean anything by it, it was just a silly comment, only made in jest and other people agreed.  My sister wasn't particularly pleased by it but she can take a joke and made her own comments about it.  Then someone told me in no uncertain terms that it was insensitive and that I should remove the post immediately.  So I did.

I have been well trained over the past 30 years to do as I'm told or face the consequences, so if I'm told to do something, I do it.  No questions asked.  Just do it and hope for no further repercussions, keep my head down, be quiet and stay out of the way.  Now that I'm out in the world, I'm finding that I'm going to have to start censoring myself.  I need to be more careful in what I say, who I say it to, and how it may affect more than just that person.  That sounds like common sense, but to someone who was allowed to say very little to anyone for many, many years, it really isn't. 

Everything is new to me.  Common things are not common to me.  Seemingly ordinary life is not ordinary to me.  I've mentioned getting used to the seemingly little things in daily life like turning on a lamp if it's not bright enough, putting butter on a potato, not having to account for every single move I make in a day.  These things, and more, are all alien to me.

I have a lot of big decisions coming up to make, things I've never had to do before without someone over my shoulder watching every move, directing me as I do things, so I'll have to make a point of listening to those more wise than I am, with more experience than I have, and I will tread lightly so that I can hopefully avoid being censored again as I tiptoe through my new life.   Fortunately I am very lucky to be surrounded by people who love me and will help me along the way if I'm brave enough to ask.