A Matter of Safety

The clouds parted for a day or two. Pain was minimal. I enjoyed it. I felt better emotionally after letting some things out. Then, things happened. Big things. Reminders. Constant reminders. Like I needed another reason to feel unsafe.

I hate violence. I hate that it's been a part of my life since the day I was born. I hate that I can't escape it. We live in a world where it's everywhere. It's not in my home this time but according to all the noise last night and the news reports, a horribly violent thing happened way too close for my comfort level.

The automatic response is to want to run away. Let's up and move. But then the reality of things hits and I realize bad and horrible things are happening everywhere. Statistically, we are in a rather safe neighborhood. I've lived in way worse places and I survived. Maybe it was because lack of knowledge. If I hadn't known what happened last night, I probably would have just kept wondering about it. "I wonder what happened." Then it's easier to just brush away. But I did find out and it set me off again. 

I hate flashbacks. I hate when it feels like I can see another scene on top of the scene right in front of me in a present moment and little sounds and maybe a word or two will just make me feel like I've had some kind of out of body experience. Or that I'm just gone completely. I've disappeared. "I don't know where I am, but it's not here." I think it's a matter of safety. My brain has done this since I was a child. Which is why remembering repressed memories has ruined my life on a few occasions. (But then brought clarity and healing so there is that.)

I don't remember the last time I "felt safe." I don't know if I ever did. I can reflect upon days when I was pretty fearless. I was the calm voice of reason for everyone. I couldn't wrap my head around how terrified and paranoid everyone seemed to be. Now I'm in that paranoid and terrified head nearly every single day so maybe I just did a better job at ignoring it up until now. Maybe it's age? I have no idea.

So, friends trying to help have just been triggering me left and right. I haven't much desire for really getting into the issues or to ask for help. I don't know if I "need" any help persay really. I'm blessed that journaling works well for me. Just furiously typing out the random thoughts is often the way to turn it around for the moment.

I just want to scream. If I lived out in the woods like I want to, I could. Weird huh? Someone asked me about isolation today. I said I'd rather be isolated. I only panic here in my neighborhood when I can hear people. There are rare moments I can go outside and only hear the wind. It's not their fault their very existence is so triggering to me. Male voices. Keys jangling. These things terrify me. Raucous laughter. Are they laughing at me? My presence makes me uncomfortable. I'm there. Out in the open. They can see me. That alone may mean they might hurt me. Just because I'm there. These are the things I live with. It's not always like this. More often than not it is, but I'm just in a very bad cycle right now. Keeping track of things on this site has been helpful though. Thus far, I feel safe here.

My husband and I will discuss a lot tonight, I'm sure. We're both shaken by the incident. Neither of us want to be here. But we'll find the best solution for now until we can really get to where we want to be. There's a lot that's good, especially for him right now, so all that is considered by me as well. I don't want to ruin his life. I already feel like I am sometimes. (Yes, I know, it's ridiculous to feel that, that's all on me.) ARGH! Time to step back. 

A cup of stress relief tea calls my name and soon it will be dark out and things are always a billion times easier for me at night. Today's also the date I lost my favorite person in the whole world and I'm doing my best not to think about that. It's been years. But I'm still grieving. Some years it's just harder than others. :'(