When you’re a survivor of abuse, sometimes you feel like
there will never come a day when you’ll be really and truly free of the effects
of what happened. Sometimes weeks—months—years
will go by without anything, and then WHAM.
You realize that something is wrong, and you realize it’s connected to
deeply-ingrained feelings from your past.
I had that happen twice in the last week, and in both instances
it was like discovering thorns had been poking me in the side for so long I’d
gotten used to it, like skin had grown over the wounds and the thorns were
sealed inside. So I had to reopen the
wounds, and draw them out, and it hurt badly.
The first incident involved Elaine. She is home visiting for a few weeks. I’ve never liked conflict. I get an anxiety attack when people I love
shout at each other, and when someone close to me yells at me I feel nauseated,
lightheaded, and my heart races. I’m
totally ok when it’s strangers, or a client, but for some reason with my
friends and loved ones, it’s different.
Elaine and I got mad at each other over something really,
REALLY stupid, and she started shouting.
I went into fight-or-flight mode, and I shouted back at her, said
something mean, and ran out of the house to the safety of my car to cool
off. She came out a few minutes later,
crying, still angry, and in panic mode, to try to find out what the heck was going
on in my crazy brain.
I wasn’t ready to talk to her. She stood five feet away from the car,
shaking and clenching her fists, and my panic levels began to rise. I spoke quietly and said, “If you want to
talk to me, can you please come sit down in the car?” She said no, and I said, “Well, then will you
please go get one of those chairs and sit down to talk to me?” She said no, so I said, “Well, then I think
you better go call Adam or something and calm down before we talk about what
happened, because otherwise we’re both going to say things we regret later.” I should say at this point that I was so
close to a panic attack I was having trouble breathing. She walked away, thank God.
After I had calmed down I started praying…and analyzing my
behavior and the way I’d reacted. I
remembered something crucial at that moment.
When MaryAnn was about to beat me, she’d scream in my face, and stand
there shaking with rage, clenching and unclenching her fists. That’s when I knew she was about to hit
me. That’s where the fear, the anxiety,
the “I’m going to say something mean and run so I don’t get hurt” reaction came
from. It was like a light shining in my
brain.
When you connect those things and realize where they’re
coming from, you can start to change the behavior. At least for me, I will be able to remember
where the feelings are coming from, deal with them, and not lash out. It will take time, but the first step is over
with.
The second incident happened Saturday night. It takes a long time for me to feel
comfortable with touch. I don’t like
being touched unexpectedly. I don’t like
for strangers to touch me. If I ask you
for a hug, or I touch your shoulder while we’re talking, it means I feel
extremely safe with you. On the flip
side, it doesn’t take much at all for me to run away from you if I feel like I’m
being rejected. And I’m ALWAYS expecting
to be rejected, because I have been so much.
On Saturday night I went to touch someone close to me, and they tensed
up. I felt like I’d been slapped and I’m
pretty sure I physically flinched. They
turned to me and said, “What?” and to my ears it sounded angry, which only hurt
worse. I sat there next to them, trying not to cry.
Thank God this person knows my history, and at the soonest
possible time they asked me what was going on.
We worked through it and I realized the tensing up had nothing to do
with me, and I’d totally misinterpreted the whole situation. But it was another instance of my brain connecting
past events to present realities, and realizing that it was another thorn to
remove, another behavior to correct.
It makes me so frustrated.
I don’t want to be this person who’s afraid of loving someone. I don’t want to be this person who doesn’t
feel comfortable in her own skin. I don’t
want to have these fearful reactions at a loving touch, I just want to enjoy
them. I don’t want to be a mess. I don’t want to run away from situations that
I need to discuss and work through. I
want to be better.
Most of all, I don’t want to hurt anyone else.
I’m getting there, and I don’t think there are many thorns
left, but it’s discouraging at times.
