Triggered At The Movies

(by Survive, Thrive And Conquer, Matt)

As invalidating and frustrating as being triggered is, I also find it a bit fascinating to explore why these memories happen and what circumstances can cause them to pop back up.

My blog normally involves topics surrounding being a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and narcissistic abuse, but I also explore relationships the struggles that survivors often have. After all, being a survivor and simply a member of the human race means that we are involved in all types of relationships.

Triggers can hit at virtually any time, especially early on in recovery and also as we continue on and explore more of our past.  One of those places that can be particularly troublesome is watching a movie or TV show.

One such recent event struck me out of the blue, and although looking back I might have seen it coming, but as always, it’s important not to shame ourselves for what we could have or should have done. Those shoulds and coulds are dangerous waters for survivors.

Anyway, I’ve been triggered before while watching TV or at the theater, and while it’s always a bit of a predictable experience, I have learned to sit with the feelings, not stuff them, and validate myself what I feel. It will usually pass in a relatively short period of time.

This recent experience last a bit longer than recent past triggering events, but the deeper part of this event was that I triggered feelings of past relationships. Specifically, a marriage that ended about 3 ½ years ago,.  While it’s been awhile, I admit, it’s still fresh in mind more often than I care to admit.

This was a situation that I shared with a trusted friend when I felt those familiar feelings of guilt, sadness, and wondering what will become of me in the future relationship department.

Sitting in the theater with my popcorn and diet coke, nothing really took hold in my mind until near the end of the flick. As the final climatic scenes unfolded, the flashbacks of what once was also began unfolding.

This was the same type of movie that I would have watched with my wife; the kind of movie that she would have had to convince me to go see. I would have come up with every excuse not to go, in fun of course, knowing full well I was going to see it anyway. It was a game of sorts, a tradition that became part of who we were.

It was something we would laugh about and became part of who we were as a couple. Those types of memories aren’t easily forgotten.

As the movie ended, I felt overwhelmed with emotions as I quickly exited the theater. Part of me wanted to stay, while the other part of me wanted vacate that place at the speed of light.  Making it to the car, I sat there in the quiet darkness reflecting of how things would have been if she were there with me.

She would be crying at the end, halfheartedly trying to hide the tears, while I sat there trying to act like it was no big deal. I’d look over and give her that predictable look and say:

“You aren’t crying, are you?”

“No”, she would say as she began to smile and laugh.

“What did you think?” she says…

“It sucked” I replied.

“I knew you would like it” she would say.

Of course, I usually did like it, but I always played along because it was our thing.

I couldn’t sit here and tell you that I wasn’t affected even if I wanted too. I’m not ashamed one bit to admit it.  I miss those times, and even though they are long gone, I still fondly remember things just like that.

This particular trigger will likely pop up again in a similar situation. It reminds me of a time when things seemed good, normal, and safe. Even though the marriage ultimately ended, it’s one of the many good memories that I will cherish. They aren’t tainted because of the ultimate outcome, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to think that they should be.

Movies and TV can affect us as survivors, not only in relationships, but also causing memories of past abuse, invalidation, fear, and loneliness. It’s nothing to be ashamed of or sorry for, it’s part of who we are. Stuffing them aside won’t solve anything, and will only cause them to hit us harder the next time they resurface.

No matter what you get triggered by, know that it’s okay and that there’s nothing wrong with you. It doesn’t mean that you are taking a step back in your healing journey, nor does it mean that you’ll never feel peaceful and fully whole again.

The ebb and flow of life as a survivor of abuse, a survivor of a relationship that didn’t turn out, or anything else, is part of what shapes until the person we are becoming, post trauma.

No matter what friend, you’ll make it through that next trigger whether it’s the result of a movie, or any other situations. Sit with it, validate the feelings, learn from it, and use it to help yourself and others in the future.

If you would like to join Matt on his Twitter weekly chat, just watch for his announcement around 10:30am on Sunday mornings.  @SurvivingMyPast

-Matt (SurvivingMyPast.net)



 

---

Matt is a regular columnist on Mind Body Thoughts.  He writes Survive, Thrive and Conquer monthly column.  This article is written by Matt.

To learn more about him and see all his other articles, go to Matt's Page, Survive, Thrive And Conquer.

---

Blog Post And Images (c) 2017 by Don Shetterly and Matt

• Permission required before any part of this blog post is reprinted, reworded or used in any form. 
• You are welcomed to share the LINK to this blog post.  

---

Triggered By My Cats

No... don't ...

No pets... don't you understand?

Don't do that.

Please don't do that!

The scenario that played over and over so many times as a kid.  Rarely did my pets ever get to come inside and if they did, I often had to sneak them in.

Well, sneaking means I sneaked them through the front door, but then since we had absolutely no privacy growing up, it was hard to keep it a secret.

Unfortunately, our pets were not used to being inside.  I don't know why they weren't allowed to stay inside, but they weren't.  It didn't matter if the nights were subzero temperatures.  It didn't matter what, they just had to stay outside.

The monster would be after them...

Most of them weren't used to letting me know they had to go outside to go to the bathroom.  They made a mess from time to time and of course, when they did - the monster would be after them.

I would see their little heads and faces ground down into the carpet into the mess they made.  The monster would show them once and for all never to do this again.  He'd throw a fit.  He'd make them learn.

I would watch in terror, wanting to rescue them but not able to do a thing.  You didn't dare lift a finger or raise a voice to the monster.  He would lay you flat on the ground and beat you until you could no longer feel a thing.  There was nothing you could do to stop the torture. You had to watch it and hear it and silently cry within.

If the monster got real mad...

If the monster got real mad, he'd pick up the cat, open the door and toss it up in the air.  The cat would go sailing in the sky and somehow land and run away.  I would cringe every time I saw this.  My heart would skip a beat.  I would hold my breath in terror.

And if the monster got real real mad, he'd just kill them.  He'd find a way to drown them in a gunny sack in a river or crush them or whatever method he deemed appropriate.  There was no stopping the judge and executioner.  I was powerless to stop him and I still hate myself to this day for that.  Yet, I was a small child.

I still remember doing the dishes as he shut my little kittens in the cellar door.  They had just been born recently.  I loved the grey one and the charcoal color one.  I had started to name them.  One was smokey.  I would sing to him, "On top of old smokey".  Yet, the monster killed them.

I instinctively knew what happened...

I heard the sounds.  I heard their little meows and screams.  The monster went outside pretending he needed something from the cellar.  Then the screams and meows increased.  The door slammed.  The meows stopped.  I instinctively knew what happened.

I started crying trying to wash the dishes.  As the monster stepped back inside, I was told to grow up and not be a cry baby.  I was told that it was a mistake.  I was given a half fake explanation as to what happened backed up by the monster's lover.

No more did little smokey get to play and listen to me sing.  No more did the Charcoal and the little kittens have a chance at a life.  No more were my new little friends to be around me.

So, when my cats did something wrong, I would be frightened that they would be killed too.  The monster was merciless.  He didn't care.  In fact, the more the kittens showed me they loved me, the more likely it was that he would take them away.

Hoped the monster didn't find out...

I cringed when they did something wrong for I had to hide it and hope the monster didn't find out.  Hardly was I ever successful.  I often failed the cats and pets.

As a kid I watched the movie, The Planet Of the Apes.  It scared the daylights out of me.  However, I found myself hoping and dreaming that the cats and dogs of this world would rise up and rule the humans.  I wished and hoped and prayed that they would claw the eyes of the humans out and cause as much pain and harm to them as they did my own pets.

It never happened.  I still live with those sounds.  I still live with those images.  I cannot erase them from my mind.  They haunt me with every breath I take.

Today, I got triggered.  Today, the trigger got the best of me.  It turned into anger and a rage directed at no one, but at everyone.  Today, I failed once again.

I know one thing, if anyone ever tries to harm my pets, they or I will most likely not be alive.  I will not allow anyone to harm them.  They mean more to me than my own life.  Animals rank higher in life than my own self.  They always have.

I can still hear their screams.

I wish I could have protected them.

I wish I would not have failed so many times.

#Triggers

---

Blog Post And Images (c) 2016 by Don Shetterly

• Permission required before any part of this blog post is reprinted, reworded or used in any form. 
• You are welcomed to share the LINK to this blog post.  

---

Fear Of Surrender Holding Hands

There I was, sitting in the room and all of the sudden... thump da thump da thump goes the music.  Its the sound that immediately takes me back to a moment in my past that is so hard to manage.  Much like a war vet suffering from PTSD, a startling noise resembling a bomb can set them off and so it is with me.  The loud base sound of music is my startling noise.  It is a trigger. 

I've come a long ways in healing on this issue.  In fact, I can now tolerate for many minutes, a car sitting next to me with their base sound so loud it vibrates everything within 100 feet.  I've come a long ways in my healing, where I can now allow my hand to be held or hold hands with my partner.

For a long time, holding hands was something I would not do.  It was frightening and scary.  It was as if it was my startling noise where I was being pinned down on the bed and raped as a thirteen year old boy.  No matter how much I wanted that feeling of holding hands and that shared moment with my partner, I just couldn't get over the fear.  I was so triggered by it.

Triggered By Sounds

Have you ever been triggered by sounds?  If you have suffered any type of trauma, I am sure you know completely what I am talking about.  The following article I published on Somatosync.com is my account of one trigger that has plagued me for most of my life.  I could never figure this out for the longest time and then suddenly, the lights went on in my brain.  While I make this sound easy and simple, it has been a process that has been anything but this.  I'm just relieved that the picture of the trigger is now one that I can vividly see and comprehend, regardless of how difficult the memories are.

To read Triggered By Sounds, click this link.

Triggered By The Silverware Drawer

Way back a long time ago, I was just a wee little boy.  Even before I could reach the sink, my father expected me to be able to wash dishes.  In order to do this, I had to pull up a chair to the sink and stand on it, so I could reach the sink with the dishes in it.  Getting dishes clean and doing it quickly was the only acceptable result, regardless of my age.  For some reason, my father would watch over me as a supervisor watches over their employees.  Keep in mind, I was a wee little boy.

One of the things that I would get in trouble for that is so clearly implanted in my mind was not getting a greasy pan clean enough or missing some other dish that still had food on it.  In those times, the punishment was severe and quick, usually being thrown into the cupboards or across the floor.

The rage in my father's eyes would haunt me day and night, as I tried to make sure I was as perfect as I could be.  The only thing I soon found out was that perfection was not enough because today's rules were changed in a moment's notice, often without warning.  It did not matter what today's punishment was for, because tomorrow it could be completely different.  In fact, it may be the complete opposite of what you were punished for, and that included the dishes.