Hospital smells trigger me worst (righ tnow) but the smell of bleach takes me back to bad/weird times.

TW-ish: My dad would clean a bathroom by taking out the sink, toilet, an dshower doors and cleaning under/behind/around them, and reinstalling them. Or the room wasn't "clean enough". He'd use a toothbrush. He'd rip out caulk and replace it.

Nothing was ever clean enough for him. Nothing. My mom, a nurse, kept things clean, but ...

I can't stand "Tide" detergent. I will never abide "Dawn" dish soap. The smells hit triggers that are spewing scattershot in my soul/mind. I probably ask my husband twice a week (instea do ftwice a day, I've improved!) if the house is clean enough...

My dad had us iron his work jeans and put a crease into his chambray shirts and his handkerchiefs and jeans. The smell of spray starch...

Most ofall, the smell of bleach.

My sister solved all cleaning with bleach.

Bleach is a smell that will sned me out of the house to inhale car exhaust as preferable.

Not being clean and organized enough was one ofher tics. Many a beating did I receive for violating the standard.

Since more recent events, fecal matter can trigger not trauma but grief, and taht's not fun, either, to be honest. But not trauma.

So, short answer: Yes. I suffer over housekeeping. I'll cry while cleaning. to avoid screaming, really. But I don't use a toothbrush for anything but my teeth. My tiny victory in the long war? I dunno.

Gentle and cautious puma support, wise one.

Yes, but nothing close to either of you.

They say that of the five senses (sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell), that it is smell that is most wired into memory in the human brain. Hence we have the perfume industry; perfume reminds us of the elegant moments in life. But the other smells remind us of those other moments, too. Mine aren't from cleaning product smells, mine are from burning smells.

The kind of combat I grew up in had bomb throwing Tupamaro terrorism close to me--like when they bombed the car I was in, they bombed the bowling alley in my neighborhood that I went to. Nowadays, if anything burns near me that smells like what burned in those bombings, I get a severe PTSD episode. I know a severe episode with shivering and vomiting is coming on when, of all things, my own sense of smell gets overwhelmed and shuts down. Suddenly I can't smell anything at all. Then I know to get ready, I've been triggered and a hard episode is about to happen.

So I can't offer solidarity re the same smells, arfie, but I sure can offer solidarity concerning the role smell plays in trauma and recovery. It's very real.

I put perfume marketing psychology into the same file as electric light psychology. Glad it works for the mainstream. The disciples of those logics get me sneaking my freak flag out the back door before they spot me as a heretic.

Alas, if I go an hour without a cigarette, I can smell whatever it is you are using perfume to hide. Kinda like the drunk who got into the elevator where an Avon Lady had used evergreen air freshener to cover the smell of her far. The drunk responds by saying, "Damn. It smells like somebody shit a Christmas tree in here."

Perfume smells like dye-headed deception to me. . . Some call that, "Elegant." Whatever youthenizes you heart, my friend. I'll even tell you you smell 5 years younger, if it helps you feel better. Preferably while I am standing upwind. . .

My house is by no means a hoarding situation but on the list of things I want to accomplish in a day, cleaning isn't anywhere near the top lol.

Growing up appearances were everything. We were flat broke at times but came across as wealthy because of the neighborhood. I hated company, I loved the company but whenever people were coming it was a ragefest, whipping post, punching bag, screaming and crying because God forbid a book be out of place or a tiny piece of paper be overlooked under the bed.

Then when company showed up the complete 180 and shes pleasant and attentive and pretending she cares. It was whiplash every single time.

Or the watching her bond with other kids, going to movies, dinners or out for coffee and when she asks me to hangout it's to fold laundry and dust to her music blasting. Fun.

My kids have a chore each that they're responsible for. The rest is up to me and I hate it but I struggle so much with being the slave when I was a kid that I went soft on my kids. Their poor wives ugh. Theres still time to teach them the essentials at home here but I have a feeling I'll become maid in their homes the first little bit.

I'll note that being raised on a farm for most of my life, fecal smells triggera variety of memories. Human feces are, by far, the worst, in both stench and in triggering bad feelings, for me. But I'll take cow poop over bleach, thanks to my late sis. She'd wipe down everythin guntil your eyes watered and your throat hurt and your chest ached from the stink of chlorine bleach. Forget perfumes. I can't use them, won't use them, shall not ever ever use them.

My sis again. My late sis. Damn, she ruined smells for me. Make-up smells, perfume smells.... Wow, this is bizarrely bringin g up a lot of bizarre stuff...

Arfie, I'd scream curses at God in y our place, so.... more puma support.

I have worked with soils, composting and bio-remediation often enough and in a large variety of settings to have a pretty detailed awareness of the many flavors of chemicals, dirt and excrement,

There is nothing quite like the smell of excess, whatever the element(s) being taken to extremes.. I shoot for balance in all things.

Bleach is not a wonderful smell, but I'l still use a drop of bleach to sterilize a cup which has been dipped in my finest smelling compost before I drink from that cup. I wait until the folks who trigger off bleach leave the scene before I commit the act.

Big hug for you sweetie..... I am sort of a clean freak ….. My sense of control I suppose

I've not had any feelings of trauma but wanted to give you a big squishy hug.....xoo