Everyone always talks about nightmares. And believe me, I have them too. About before, but often they are also related to things going on in my life now. That's not nice. But still less shocking than having nightmares due to PTSD from the past. Only with me, those nightmares do not take place at night, but during the day. That's why I call them day mares. The daytime nightmares have a much bigger impact on me.
Daymares are the moments when I relive things from the past, or am triggered by my environment and go back to feelings, thoughts or experiences from the past. The trigger can be anything: when someone acts a certain way, a smell that enters my nose, a glance from someone who looks at me, things I read, experiences someone shares with me, an energy someone carries with them. But places, sounds and voices can also set something in motion. In fact, I can think of so many things that can provide a stimulus and then send me on a roller coaster of emotions, physical sensations and destructive thoughts. I call them daymares because they always take place during the day.
What happens, when I get a daymare, can vary from time to time; but it's always a roller coaster inside. Sometimes I clam up and literally shut down. I then feel, as it were, the shutters going down. As if a plug is put in my mouth and my breath pressed in. But it can also happen that I feel a blanket of sadness over me. The blanket has a paralyzing effect, making it almost impossible for me to breathe.
Or I completely panic. In my head it then seems like a short circuit. I can no longer think, get completely upset and prefer to crawl inside myself and disappear. A variation on this is that I get the urge to bang my head against the wall or pull the hair out of my head. Anything to stop the feeling.
Fortunately, I don't do this, but the urge alone is tremendously overwhelming and exhausting.
There are so many things in my daily life that take me back to the old days. This is often a lonely struggle, because usually you don't see anything on my outside. People see a woman, in the prime of her life, well taken care of, articulate. But they don't see what's behind my exterior. This is also because over the years I have become a master in concealing. Especially to people who don't know me well, I can pretend very well. Inside at these moments, it feels as if I am being kicked hard in my stomach; the pain is intense and cramping.
And it usually overwhelms me at unexpected moments. Just when I am feeling good, comfortable and having a great day. Then, like striking thunder, I can suddenly feel very anxious, alone and lonely, because I can't really explain it to anyone properly.
Triggers are always and everywhere. That fact alone creates stress. Knowing that at any moment you could be kidnapped to hell: terrible! But there is also a set of fixed things that I am sure I hit on.
Alcohol
My father was an alcoholic for much of my childhood. And that had a huge impact. When I see someone drunk or even tipsy nowadays, I feel a huge wave of disgust. When that person also behaves aggressively, I get scared.
I have such an aversion to alcohol because of my father that I don't drink alcohol. I dislike it immensely. Many people around me don't know the reason and think I just don't líke alcohol. It took a long time before I openly told people my father was an alcoholic. More often then not I still don't tell it. It is something I have long been ashamed of and I did not want to put my father in a negative daylight. So I kept my mouth shut. Until I realized it was not my story: I am not an alcoholic. And yes, my father was more than an alcoholic, but he was also alcoholic. And the fact is, that very much shaped and influenced me.
Music
There are songs that remind me of the persons who traumatized me. It can happen that I hear a song on the radio and that it will take me immediately back to a situation from the past. One moment I am happy and nothing is wrong. The next moment I hear the song or even just the title and whoooppss there I go....back into misery.
A mirror
My brother and I: we look similar and in my mind we have the same eyes. Sometimes it can happen that I look in the mirror and don't see myself but my brother. And then I startle, I feel fear and sometimes I get nauseous.
It feels grim when you look in the mirror and you see not your own eyes, but the eyes of someone who has damaged you. And I have no control over that; I don't know when it happens when I look in a mirror. It could be there at any moment, and just knowing that takes a lot of energy. Knowing that you can't look into a mirror carefree.
Tension
Sometimes I enter somewhere and I feel there is a tremendous tension, not a nice vibe. That brings me right back to the old days. In our house there was always tension, incessantly. I often had to be on my guard, feel the mood and try to estimate what to expect. That's deadly exhausting I can tell you. Feeling unsafe in the place where I should have felt safe, cherished and loved, cost me a lot. In the past and now. It has made me feel permanently unsafe. I am always on guard. Even in my own house, the place where I feel at home. And also at night: I sleep light and restless, because I am always alert. It's something I wouldn't wish on any human or animal. It has been a breeding ground from which I suffer for the rest of my life.
That is why I am so happy with Sophie, my assistance dog. She is the angel in my life, my anchor, my rock. Because she is with me 24 hours a day, watching over me, sensing me and responding to me, I am able to release some of my stress. It is her presence that allows me to collect my recurring experiences. Because of Sophie, I feel a little bit safer and I can unwind. And that, in turn, has a huge impact on my health, both mentally and physically. I am very grateful to (her) for that.
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