I try to find some resemblance of normalcy despite the fact that most everything is triggering or reminds me of something. When I get in the car and close the door I pretend I haven’t flashed to my hands being slammed in the door or the trunk as a child. I put on my safety belt despite my intense fear of being tied down. I turn the key and pull off. I’m okay, the windows are cracked. I know I can get out if I have to. I probably won’t have to escape at a moment’s notice because I’m behind the wheel not my mother. Still, they’re cracked. It doesn’t matter if it’s snowing, raining or hell fire hot, the windows are cracked.
I arrive at the store and see the yellow lines I’m to park in. I throw out of my head the phrase, “I don’t like how yellow tastes.” I’m okay though, this is now, and that was then. I’m okay. I climb out of the car and deal with the door shutting again. My hands weren’t in it. I’m okay.
Inside the store I see children in carts and avoid eye contact. I don’t want to see my own reflection. I try not to walk behind anyone because I don’t need to walk five paces behind anymore. I’m fine. Just get your stuff and go. I’m fine. I swear I’m fine.
Dr. D and I talked about how the most simple tasks can turn ugly in the blink of an eye. Only through repeated exposure am I able to feign some sort of calm resolution. Chocolate – only in the last 10 years have I been able to see it for what it is. It’s been maybe 7 or 8 that I’ve been able to eat it and enjoy it. Still, it’s not my first choice.
Mud – All it has to do is touch me and my stomach churns and tightens. It takes a lot to get my head together after that.What am I to do about that? Pray for drought? White vans, a mint green Ford, maroon Crown Vic, most older model sports cars, a 1956 Buick (of which there are plenty here in this city) all sorts of cars invoke nightmarish images followed by that one phrase I’m not sure if I even believe.
Some days I am fine but more often I’m bombarded with reminders of unbelievable fear and pain. Those are the times I find myself chanting, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ll be home in a little bit. I can last until then. ”
I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m…….
He wants to know if I’d like to leave the house more. No, cause I’m not fine.
Therapy Discussion Everywhere at Every Turn-Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I hear every word of this. I know what it is to get through the day, even through unbelievable pain, by chanting, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” I’ve been telling myself this for decades. I know what this is like for you.
At least your last sentence tells the truth.
I’m not there yet.
I find myself chanting, “It’s okay. You are okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Some days I believe it.