I planned a post for this week about relationships. It was generic but also specific if that makes any sense. I wrote about 700 words, including information about cutting people out of your life and really loving someone. I started it before my “job that pays the bills,” then checked my email and realized the kind of day it would be. So I didn’t pick it up again. Now here I am in Kansas City on a solo trip. I’m not much of an “everything happens for a reason” kind of person, but the opportunity to get out of town by myself happened for a reason. This post and coming to terms with old trauma is the reason.
I honestly don’t even know if I can try to be funny with this one. I’ll try, but there are no guarantees I can pull off any wittiness. I mainly want this to be serious because I want women to feel heard and understand that it doesn’t matter how long ago their trauma happened, it fucking happened, and they deserve to be set free from it. So here we go!
Me Time
A solo trip is outside my comfort zone. Honestly, leaving my house, in general, is outside my comfort zone these days. I got a Ph.D. from a 100% in-person program while working 40+ hours a week. I couldn’t have a social life. I had about 6 months of freedom before being grief-struck, and I began living day-to-day in a numb sadness I refused to talk about. Then cancer. Then COVID. I became a recluse. I ran, worked, and cuddled Lola. Not much sleep. Repeat.
I hated my job before the one I have now. I had incredible co-workers, but I hated my job with every fiber. I thought the move to St. Louis was what I needed. In a lot of ways, it is what I needed. I did better for a little while at not being reclusive. But all the socialization overwhelmed me. I’m not the same wild person I was 10 years ago, and I frequently feel triggered. I overdid the socialization and the triggers, which I could not figure out for the life of me, were everywhere. So how did this all lead to me being in Kansas City alone? I had to get away from the things and people I knew. I needed to take care of no one or nothing else other than myself. I wanted to drive, not fly. I didn’t have much time, AND there happened to be a Harry Potter pop-up bar this week. Maybe it was a sign? I don’t know, but now I’m here. Writing this post. This was my purpose, but I couldn’t do this at home. There are too many distractions at home. At home, I would have decided it’s not worth it.
Understanding My Trauma
Last night I began having a panic attack at a bar. I got myself back to the apartment I’m staying in and took care of things the best I could. My best sometimes sucks, but honestly, any day I just make it is a win anymore. Do I think about suicide? Yes. Will I attempt it? No. I have three perfect angels at home who need me. I have two amazing nephews who wouldn’t understand. There are 1001 reasons why I won’t attempt it. It’d be a lie to say that life isn’t just too fucking hard most of the time, though.
I can’t be the only person going through the motions every day only to have the Emotions explode eventually. The purpose of this post is healing. It’s essential to heal, yes. But it’s also important to take your time healing. It doesn’t happen overnight. It may not even happen over a couple years. I’ve come to terms with my childhood trauma, relationship trauma, cancer trauma, etc. These are the reasons why I couldn’t understand why I’m continually triggered. I now know why.
At age 15, I was sexually assaulted by someone I knew and trusted. It didn’t happen once. It occurred multiple times. He made me believe it was what I wanted and was doing me a favor. I remember I used to see him out and about and immediately get nauseous. But with time, I put it in the back of my head and told myself it wasn’t assault. I deserved what happened because I let it happen. I didn’t run away. I didn’t tell anyone. Now I look back on that and think, “who the fuck was I going to tell?” Not one God damn person would have believed me. I would have been dismissed as soon as I associated his name with the incident. Instead, I moved on without healing. High school was miserable for me. People knew I wasn’t a virgin anymore, but they didn’t know the details. They made assumptions. I was slut shamed. Kids made my life a living hell. I don’t hate them, though. I hate him. They didn’t know, and I didn’t correct their assumptions. For years afterward, he has tried to be my friend. A text or FB message here or there. Usually, something inappropriate. He’s no longer on my contact list, and his number has also been blocked. I deleted him from all social media. He can’t pretend this never happened or that he didn’t take the innocence of a 15-year-old girl. I’m positive I’m not the only one. If I haven’t made it clear, this dude was an adult. I won’t say his name. If you know, you know. I don’t want anyone to do anything about it. That won’t help me in any way. It’s been nearly 17 years, and I’m finally taking my life back. That experience explains so much about my reactions to other events over the past 17 years.
Triggers, Emotions, & Such
When I was 25, at a conference in Austin, a much older man made me believe he was interested in me as a professional. I was young and dumb. Ambitious. He took advantage of everything I was. He didn’t rape me if you think that’s where this is going. He met me for a drink and told me he’d like to kiss me, amongst other things. I walked away. Straight to 6th street, where I got so drunk, I thought I would die. I told my husband some of the story and one co-worker. They were both disgusted. Fast forward a year, and he shows up at my job. He was a distinguished guest who I was asked to work with. I said I didn’t want to, and he made me uncomfortable. I did my best to explain why he made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t given an option. Talk about a nauseating day.
Maybe I overreacted. I don’t know. At that moment, all I could think about was how I thought I was over my previous sexual trauma. This felt too similar. It scared me – triggered me. I used alcohol to numb it. I don’t know what I did, who I talked to at the bar, or how I made it back to the hotel. Keep this in mind when you judge sexual assault victims for not acting how you think they should.
I believe the panic attack last night and several previous episodes stem back to the event almost 17 years ago. I’ve refused to accept it ever happened, thus not healing from it. But I’m ready to take my life back. Right here. Right now.
Take it All Back!
Whatever your trauma, you have to take your life back. Stop taking what life gives you. Demand more. You deserve more. Chances are, if you’ve been through a traumatic event, you do anything possible to remove it from your memory. Who wants to remember that shit? Maybe you don’t think it’s worth talking about because you’ve heard powerful men say that they take issue with women coming forward years later or because someone you thought cared about you told you, you overreacted at a terrifying incident. It doesn’t matter. You’re important. Your feelings are valid, and your experiences are real. If you’re ready, it’s time to admit those experiences occurred.
Today, I went for a hike on a trail I’ve never been to. I put my phone in do not disturb and just hiked. No photos, no phone calls, no texts. Just me and nature. It was powerful to do that on my own in a place I didn’t know. I’ve never done that alone because the thought of “what if” scared the shit out of me. What if I get attacked and, this time, I don’t know the person? What if the person is dangerous? What if I’m incapable of screaming? All of the what-ifs.
I went to the zoo by myself too. Wow! Talk about an experience. I read every informational plaque and watched every animal move with absolute admiration. Later this evening, I’m going to a bar I’ve never been to and plan to interact with other Harry Potter nerds I don’t know. These are things I don’t do. If you know me, you know I’m friendly, I love hiking & running, and I enjoy a good zoo day. This is all different, though. It’s different in a million ways.
I’m broken. I’m not the only woman who’s broken but trying their hardest not to be weak or vulnerable. I’m taking my life back. Step one for me was getting out of town and telling part of my story. I cried. I panicked. I’ll probably cry more. A lot more. It’s okay, though. Denying it obviously doesn’t work for me. This article references Dr. Phil, who I’m not the biggest fan of, but the quote is good, so I’ll allow it. The article discusses 26 ways to take your life back. I’ll be upfront and tell you it calls them “simple methods.” There is absolutely nothing fucking simple about taking control of your life after letting it control you for so long. I’m sure the author had good intentions. Hopefully anyway. But I digress. The methods actually aren’t bad.
Therapy Works
You know what’s coming, right? Get yourself into therapy. The work we need requires commitment in the form of time, energy, and effort. A good therapist will help you with everything and at the right pace. I can’t say enough; get a therapist sooner rather than later. The money is absolutely worth it. If you don’t have the money, some therapists work on a sliding scale depending on your income, or you can connect with a social worker in your area to see if you qualify for mental health assistance. Ask your PCP if they have a recommendation. Don’t overwhelm yourself anymore or let your previous life own you. Move on! Take it all back. Be the strong bad bitch you are. I’ve already reached out to my therapist and told her that at our next session, we’re dedicating the entire hour to how an event in 2005 has controlled my emotions and reactions since.
I will find resources for you, and they will be posted on the resources page. Now I have to leave to eat Harry Potter food and have a fucking good time with people I don’t know.
X Sam O
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