When I got out of the Navy, everyone assumed I had PTSD. I looked it up and quickly decided I probably did not, as I didn't relive memories of any trauma, though I really didn't understand what that meant at the time. I had started having panic attacks while in the Navy, and they never went away. I'm frequently anxious or fearful. I want to curl up into a ball when I'm startled. People feel dangerous, especially in crowds. Just being near groups of people can fill me with fear, shame, and humiliation.
But my degree of impairment still seems disproportionate. Military is supposed to be hard, and I went through little that most don't. I was in the closet, I had horrendous performance which I blame myself for. I was blocked from qualifying for watches and from standing anything but the junior most watches I was already qualified for, but given bad evaluations because I wasn't meeting the requirements they prevented me from meeting. We did emergency drills every week, fighting pretend fires and flooding, or pretending to destroy the world with a nuclear missile launch. This involved uncomfortable equipment that left you frequently running across the boat with your air cut off. I felt like I screwed something up every day, and would get yelled at by a chief for it. I woke up wondering what I'd be yelled at for that day. I'd completely given up. I shut down completely, silently begging for death to escape. I started self harming. The panic attacks began. And this mindset, this reaction never ended after I did get out of there.
There was an incident when I was very young. It's actually my earliest memory where I'm aware of my thoughts about something. I was probably four, give or take a year. I had a friend, a neighbor a few houses down the street. I remember thinking I should go over and play with him, but not wanting to because he was mean and pushy, and feeling embarrassed and shameful and scared and confused, but that I had to go over there and play because he was my friend.
I have a couple more memories of him, one in his back yard, and one on the sidewalk in front of his house, both with the same mix of emotions. And I remember being in his bathroom, and him taking his pants off and making me put my mouth on his penis. I didn't want to, and I was filled with shame and embarrassment. I don't remember doing it. I don't remember IF I did it. I don't know if it was a one time thing, or something that happened a lot. I think it might have happened more than once.
I always remembered that, but I completely disregarded it. It wasn't important. I wasn't sure it really happened, and even if it had, it hadn't affected me in any way. It was embarrassing, but that's it.
I remember a daydream in kindergarten. It's a creepy dream, but I didn't recognize it as creepy at the time, just really really weird. It wasn't a daydream a kindergartner should ever have. I had it again that night. I remember enjoying it, without understanding why it was enjoyable, so I replayed it several times. It was really bizarre, to be honest. There was a magic camera that made anyone you took a picture of start having bizarre and anatomically impossible sex. I had no idea that's what it was, but it's what was happening. It's embarrassing to talk about it at all.
I never thought anything was weird about the daydream, other than the subject matter, but didn't' think it was important. I had never, ever, connected the first incident with the daydream. Now I'm terrified at the implications of having a daydream with both a camera and sex acts, involving the adult characters.
My entire life, I've reacted to aggressive bullies with shame and embarrassment. I always felt like I had to do what people said, or help them. Not doing so was uncomfortable. In the Navy, I was constantly surrounded by assertive bullies in authoritarian positions, and I had to obey their orders. And I constantly failed at stuff I was supposed to do, and was constantly in trouble because of it.
I wonder if every bully in my life became the kid at the beginning that abused me. I reacted to all of them with the same mix of emotions I remember having when I didn't want to go over to his house, when I didn't want to put my mouth on his penis. I wonder if all those chiefs were that kid, with power over me, who were mean but I had to be on their side. I was trapped with them, in a closed off environment in the middle of the ocean, over and over again for five years, wanting to die.
But my degree of impairment still seems disproportionate. Military is supposed to be hard, and I went through little that most don't. I was in the closet, I had horrendous performance which I blame myself for. I was blocked from qualifying for watches and from standing anything but the junior most watches I was already qualified for, but given bad evaluations because I wasn't meeting the requirements they prevented me from meeting. We did emergency drills every week, fighting pretend fires and flooding, or pretending to destroy the world with a nuclear missile launch. This involved uncomfortable equipment that left you frequently running across the boat with your air cut off. I felt like I screwed something up every day, and would get yelled at by a chief for it. I woke up wondering what I'd be yelled at for that day. I'd completely given up. I shut down completely, silently begging for death to escape. I started self harming. The panic attacks began. And this mindset, this reaction never ended after I did get out of there.
There was an incident when I was very young. It's actually my earliest memory where I'm aware of my thoughts about something. I was probably four, give or take a year. I had a friend, a neighbor a few houses down the street. I remember thinking I should go over and play with him, but not wanting to because he was mean and pushy, and feeling embarrassed and shameful and scared and confused, but that I had to go over there and play because he was my friend.
I have a couple more memories of him, one in his back yard, and one on the sidewalk in front of his house, both with the same mix of emotions. And I remember being in his bathroom, and him taking his pants off and making me put my mouth on his penis. I didn't want to, and I was filled with shame and embarrassment. I don't remember doing it. I don't remember IF I did it. I don't know if it was a one time thing, or something that happened a lot. I think it might have happened more than once.
I always remembered that, but I completely disregarded it. It wasn't important. I wasn't sure it really happened, and even if it had, it hadn't affected me in any way. It was embarrassing, but that's it.
I remember a daydream in kindergarten. It's a creepy dream, but I didn't recognize it as creepy at the time, just really really weird. It wasn't a daydream a kindergartner should ever have. I had it again that night. I remember enjoying it, without understanding why it was enjoyable, so I replayed it several times. It was really bizarre, to be honest. There was a magic camera that made anyone you took a picture of start having bizarre and anatomically impossible sex. I had no idea that's what it was, but it's what was happening. It's embarrassing to talk about it at all.
I never thought anything was weird about the daydream, other than the subject matter, but didn't' think it was important. I had never, ever, connected the first incident with the daydream. Now I'm terrified at the implications of having a daydream with both a camera and sex acts, involving the adult characters.
My entire life, I've reacted to aggressive bullies with shame and embarrassment. I always felt like I had to do what people said, or help them. Not doing so was uncomfortable. In the Navy, I was constantly surrounded by assertive bullies in authoritarian positions, and I had to obey their orders. And I constantly failed at stuff I was supposed to do, and was constantly in trouble because of it.
I wonder if every bully in my life became the kid at the beginning that abused me. I reacted to all of them with the same mix of emotions I remember having when I didn't want to go over to his house, when I didn't want to put my mouth on his penis. I wonder if all those chiefs were that kid, with power over me, who were mean but I had to be on their side. I was trapped with them, in a closed off environment in the middle of the ocean, over and over again for five years, wanting to die.
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