Get your finger off the trigger

I talk a lot about triggers. We all have them in one form or another. Sometimes they can bring about a happy memory or feeling. Other times they bring about traumatic memories or feelings. For someone who has PTSD, triggers can be overwhelming and debilitating.

No one can explain why or when triggers happen. They are random and unexpected. They can be simple to handle. They can be horrific to deal with. Reliving trauma is not enjoyable.

While many people will chuckle or outright laugh at the following story please understand that if you approach me regarding this matter, it is not funny to me.

This past Sunday we took our son to Chuck E. Cheese for his final birthday celebration. He had a great time.

Later in the afternoon, Jason and I were hungry for dinner. We had decided earlier that we would just get a burger and make the day easy. Joshua, having eaten six slices of pizza at Chuck E. Cheese, was not hungry and did not want to go with us. With the knowledge that Joshua can handle an hour at home alone and with the urging of therapists to allow him more independence, Jason and I decided to venture out on our own. When we left, Joshua was upstairs in his room.

We ate, we ran to the library and then we came home. Now, our son is 14 years old, he loves girls and enjoys taking his “private” time. We have always allowed this freedom with out making a big deal about it because we all grew up with complexes and taboos that made us feel like we were doing something bad. We did not want that for Joshua. We have even gone so far as to purchase magazines or posters for him for his room (girls in bathing suits). He had a tendency to use his computer for internet pictures. Unsafe and against our rules, we chose to give him the other materials so that we could at least monitor what he was looking at. Joshua had been spoken to numerous times about where, when and what when it came to his “private” time. His bedroom was his sanctuary and he could go there and be assured that no one would bother him.

When we walked in the door from our dinner, there was Joshua, naked, sitting at the dining room table. His laptop was open and the window quickly closed as we entered the room. I crumpled. He had broken our trust. Jason told him to go upstairs and put clothes on immediately. I yanked his computer out of the wall and hid it in a closet. As I did this I noticed something on the chair. Yes, you are thinking correctly. I gagged, I almost threw up. It was too much. I couldn’t handle it. This was where we eat, we gather as a family for conversation, we play board games. This was the table and chairs we picked out as a family because we loved the way it looked. No, no. This was not happening. Jason made Joshua come downstairs and clean up his mess. Joshua began to go on a tirade as if we were the ones who did something wrong. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t hear him. He was nothing to me at that moment but something that made my stomach turn. I went to the other room. I told Jason I was done. I couldn’t handle it. He took over with Joshua for the rest of the night. Thank you, Jason, my savior.

I went into cleaning mode. I got the Lysol and cleaned everything. The room was tainted, the table and countertops were dirty. It was all horribly disgustingly dirty. I cleaned, I stacked, I threw away, I wiped and I scrubbed. It is still disgusting to me right now. I have not sat in that chair. I hate going into Joshua’s room. I don’t want to touch him. I can’t tuck him in at night. I just now today can stand a hug from him but it feels suffocating and I want to get away.

The following day I was broken. I couldn’t do anything. I took a nice handful of pills throughout the day to keep me from feeling anything. I spoke to Libbi in the morning and cried and cried to her. Jason called me because he felt something was wrong and I cried to him. I wanted to cut myself so badly but I resisted. I tried to return to the numbness instead, it was safer there. I curled into a ball in my bed with my favorite blankie and rocked myself back and forth.

My childhood trauma had been triggered. My son launched this physical and emotional reaction in me. I was violated, trust broken. I told him the rules and he did not listen. My voice was not heard. He opened up a wound in me that I was not prepared to have opened right now. Day by day I am getting stronger, but it lies there under the surface. The tears appear out of nowhere. I don’t want to see my own son right now. I don’t want to have anything to do with him. It sounds awful, terrible. But, I can’t force it right now. I can’t pretend. I don’t have it in me. I don’t want to think about the past and yet it is right in my face. I close my eyes and I see monsters. I’m scared to open my eyes because I am convinced that the monsters will be there right in front of me. This was not how I planned to start my 40th year but apparently this is how the universe saw fit to push me on my way.

I am curled up in a ball inside of myself. The only person right now that makes me feel safe is Jason. I’m scared of everyone else. I am trying to hide it, live as if all is well, but it’s hard. It’s just hard. My stomach is in knots and I want to feel protected and armored. I am inside out and vulnerable, exposed to the world.

I saw Libbi this morning. She is gently helping me through this. Thank goodness she understands where I have been in my life. She asked if I am having any visions come up from the past and/or the present. Yes, both. She already knows how to find my mind hidden beneath the rubble. I am definitely grateful for that.

So here I am, open and wounded. The trigger has been set and my trauma is chasing me. I will fight the demons in my own way. With fear, tears and eventually anger and resilience. I need a little time and then I will put them back in their steel cage once more.