Songs I can't Listen to.
The 1970's were not the best of times and there are a whole bunch of songs that trigger some bad feelings and memories. As soon as one comes on the radio I rush to change it and if I can't change it fast enough because of traffic or whatever I just shut the radio off. I wish turning off my emotions was as easy as a push of a button. Actually it is I guess.
Tonight when I started my car to leave work "The Boys are Back in Town by Thin Lizzy was playing. Crap....I hate that song. I don't think I would like it even if it didn't make me feel like I had just been thrown back into a bad dream. It is somewhere between a bad memory and a flashback. Not as intense as a flashback but it might turn into one if i listened to the whole song. There are other songs that have the same effect; Night Moves, Fly Like an Eagle and Year of the Cat, to name a few. There are other songs I love and they leave me with a melancholy feeling that is unpleasant but not horrible. Dreamboat Annie makes me feel like i am in a in a space filled with loneliness.
Anyway...Thin Lizzy just sets me off. For whatever reason even though I switched the station within 3 or 4 notes I ended up spending the drive home with some very bad memories and the worst part was all the feelings associated with those memories.
I remember the morning I woke up on the rocky beach of Seneca Lake....or was it Cayuga??? I was missing my panties and one shoe. My friend Lori had woken me up and said we had to get moving before the police found us. I don't remember much about the night before. I remember drinking a lot of rum and coke at a bar where a wedding reception was being held and some man trying to take me outside and another one telling him not to. Everything else between is gone. Not a blur...just gone.
There are other memories of being 11 or 12 years old and having sex with much older men. Those memories are blurry. Some of the time it was only attempted sex and the attempts were on their part. I was like a rag doll. I just froze in place. Sometimes it hurt. I hate those songs. I hate mustaches. I hate the smell of old cars and old buildings.
I'm not sure what the feelings are. Fear. Confusion. Lost. I know one thing. I was a little kid that had been trying to figure out everything on my own since I was 8. 8 year old children don't know how to take care of themselves. I tried though. I looked for a safe place. Safe people. I kept looking until I stopped.
All this does is make me feel more broken inside. I'm not sure this is healing pain. Maybe it is just pain. I still don't feel like I have a safe place to let it out. If the walls come down it is just going to be like a flood and too overwhelming. I need someone to help hold me together but I can't trust anyone that much.
When i told I was laughed at, ignored, abused again and punished. When i talked about it as an adult more than one got off on it. I can't trust my shit to anyone. I just keep holding it.
Tonight when I started my car to leave work "The Boys are Back in Town by Thin Lizzy was playing. Crap....I hate that song. I don't think I would like it even if it didn't make me feel like I had just been thrown back into a bad dream. It is somewhere between a bad memory and a flashback. Not as intense as a flashback but it might turn into one if i listened to the whole song. There are other songs that have the same effect; Night Moves, Fly Like an Eagle and Year of the Cat, to name a few. There are other songs I love and they leave me with a melancholy feeling that is unpleasant but not horrible. Dreamboat Annie makes me feel like i am in a in a space filled with loneliness.
Anyway...Thin Lizzy just sets me off. For whatever reason even though I switched the station within 3 or 4 notes I ended up spending the drive home with some very bad memories and the worst part was all the feelings associated with those memories.
I remember the morning I woke up on the rocky beach of Seneca Lake....or was it Cayuga??? I was missing my panties and one shoe. My friend Lori had woken me up and said we had to get moving before the police found us. I don't remember much about the night before. I remember drinking a lot of rum and coke at a bar where a wedding reception was being held and some man trying to take me outside and another one telling him not to. Everything else between is gone. Not a blur...just gone.
There are other memories of being 11 or 12 years old and having sex with much older men. Those memories are blurry. Some of the time it was only attempted sex and the attempts were on their part. I was like a rag doll. I just froze in place. Sometimes it hurt. I hate those songs. I hate mustaches. I hate the smell of old cars and old buildings.
I'm not sure what the feelings are. Fear. Confusion. Lost. I know one thing. I was a little kid that had been trying to figure out everything on my own since I was 8. 8 year old children don't know how to take care of themselves. I tried though. I looked for a safe place. Safe people. I kept looking until I stopped.
All this does is make me feel more broken inside. I'm not sure this is healing pain. Maybe it is just pain. I still don't feel like I have a safe place to let it out. If the walls come down it is just going to be like a flood and too overwhelming. I need someone to help hold me together but I can't trust anyone that much.
When i told I was laughed at, ignored, abused again and punished. When i talked about it as an adult more than one got off on it. I can't trust my shit to anyone. I just keep holding it.
Replies
I believe you are healing. Triggers are so hard but every time you are triggered it\'s because you have a feeling that needs to be healed. At first when I was triggered the fear took over. I would have a panic attack and I would pace and cry and, very often, text my therapist. Now, 6 months later, when I am triggered I see it as an opportunity to invite in the feeling, process it (by crying, screaming or punching a pillow) and when it\'s over, I relax and remind myself that now that I have processed it, I won\'t have to do it again.
I know you feel broken inside, I did too. I remember one poster here said something along the lines of \"my therapist ripped me apart and then together we glued me back together\". I remember this because it is so true. Healing is painful. And it sucks. Why we have to endure the abuse twice - once when it happened and once while healing from it - is beyond me. It isn\'t fair. But, Cecil, you are never alone. Many people here care about you and will listen without judgment and with a caring ear. And we all have virtual shoulders you can cry on if you need them.
Take care my friend. xx