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A Watch Triggered Me

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Wounded Scribe

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Over my life, I have struggled to wear dress socks, dress shoes, and watches. I never knew why, these things bothered me. The sense of their touch on my skin, sent me to the moon.

A couple of years ago, I was on Ebay shopping and I saw a Mickey Mouse Watch and within the next breath, I was gone.

I forgot about that watch. I forgot about my Mickey Mouse Watch. That innocent watch, given to me as a gift, or afterthought by a family that abandoned me when I was a toddler.

I can't wear a watch today, and looking at clocks have caused me anxiety and a need to run or fight something. Without warning that day, despite the fact my child was standing next to me I saw my small, frail wrist that evening. It was that watch that caused me to pull the trigger to the rifle.

I got off the school bus at about 4:00 PM, and I needed to shoot and kill myself before 5:30 PM. I had lied to my abusive, violent father the night before. He would know I had lied to him by Monday. He would be home all weekend and it was Friday. This was my window to leave this world behind and escape the years of torment. I initiated that plan, it took me months to settle on that plan.

When I finally got to that secluded place in the woods it was a little after 4:00 PM. The abuser, would be home by 5:30, maybe 6:00. My step mother threatened me the night before. She said he would hurt me, bad. He had proven to me, he would. That's why I lied that night...to protect myself from that hurt.

I never planned to sit in the woods, afraid to pull the trigger. I just thought I would walk into the woods, sit down, and follow through. I couldn't do it. I got up to walk home. But I remembered the threat the night before and I would rather die than allow that man to hit me or call me another name. So I walked back and sat down, and I looked at that Mickey Mouse watch, and saw the time. It was time.

I can feel that gun barrel on my chest. I can feel it, and I want to scream. I know what's going to happen next. That watch, triggered the pulling of the trigger. It may as well have been the firing pin itself. I'm engulfed in that flame. That bullet rips into me and it's bouncing around inside of me and the surgeon, left some of it. I know he felt it was unsafe to remove parts of it because it's too close to my spine, but my God, it's still inside of me apart of me. I want it out!!!!! I want that f/ing bullet out of me. I have lived with it long enough, and I want peace. It hurts, it hurts so bad it's forever inside of me, next to my organs. My heart, my heart gives me life and I laid that cold metal monster next to it and yanked that trigger because of the monster that beat me, the monster I loved and called...dad...and a family, that abandoned me, and left me to die in that home, and sent me a F/ing Mickey Mouse Watch that within minutes after the shooting I can see it in front of my face again, but this time, it's got blood smeared across the watch face plate....

Today when I woke up, I saw that watch once more in my face though it was early morning and there was no watch on my wrist.

My chest hurts right now, and I can feel it collapsing under the kinetic energy of that bullet explosion. The medicine ain't helping me. I am breathing the hell out of my candles and hugging my babies so I can feel the love and life into me. I am praying and asking God, for peace. I am shaking, crying...

Thank You, for this forum and community. Thank You so much for it. I have a place to come, and write this out of me. I have a community of friends and fellow travelers who get it. We know about these attacks that shatter the day and remind us how fragile life can be.
 
I am very sorry you had to go through this and still do. I too am glad you have found this forum as it is a helpful place when in the throes of pain from our abuse. I have never been able to wear anything around my wrists, ankles or neck and last week I wore a watch and a bracelet my daughter made me for 3 days straight. Just telling you this so you know it is possible for it to get easier with time.....lots of time.

I understand that the bullet fragment within you is a terrible reminder of your past and can't just be taken off like a bracelet, but remember, if it is removed, there is a possibility you can die and then they win.

Maybe you can think of it as a reminder of how strong you are and that nobody can take that away.

Take care and Be extra gentle on yourself
 
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Thank You. I worried all day, about posting this. It's terrible stuff. I feel wasted. I did make it out and had a great time today, with my little ones. I have made a resolution, to go ahead and buy this Mickey Mouse Watch. And one day, once I have it, I will take it to therapy, and put it on. That's exposure therapy. I do want that shrapnel out of me. This is one of the issues we tackled last week in therapy, my perception of myself. I know my inner self grieves over this. It's ashamed and I feel 40 years older than what I really am.

The night I went into the woods to take my life, I was athletic, strong, I could outwork 2 grown men. I played football and I lifted weights. I could run like the wind when I played football. When I walked out of the hospital, my body was ripped in half. Covered in staples. Half of it was numb and invisible to me. I aged a lifetime. I was no longer an athletic teenager full of life and potential, I was a reanimated monster who escaped death by less than an inch.

With no therapy or support, and having to carry the burden of guilt for "such an extreme attempt at suicide" (The only reason why they considered it extreme, I survived and I only survived because I fought like hell for 2 hours to survive. There were days I honestly felt like people would have preferred I died so they didn't have to look at me.)...I bolted all of this deep down inside of me and I set out to assimilate into the village, and thus, delayed onset PTSD.
 
I wonder if you could possibly 'convert' the image of the watch into something that signifies the strength that you had/have in times that were obviously more than one could bear. It is incredible how the story 'ekes' out along the way and we can put pieces together that help us to understand what triggers are related to what - but that watch - was there any strength that you can possibly find in it to overlay the negative image that you have of it? Please do not be offended as I am not trying to make light of it - but this is a technique that I have found that has blown away very severe triggers of mine and I wouldn't be here today if I didn't use this as a trigger breaker.
 
@shimmerz no offense taken, I appreciate all of the insights, found here. Coming from other PTSD survivors, I know it's peer suggestions and insights. I've asked my wife to get me this watch, and I'm going to have it engraved. I survived. I know I survived something as a 150 pound teenager, that kills grown men. My will to live fought that savage battle that gave me Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, so I could live and enjoy days like I had today. Today, I got to go to a pumpkin decorating contest with my family. I never became an abuser. I never left my kids. They were worried one day, suicide may claim my life in the future but after 28 years, I am alive today. I know I am hurting and my health has really gone down hill over the past 2 years but I know I've come a very long way.

I appreciate the help I am getting today with the counselors, medical provider and my wife and kids.
 
Looking at it, makes my blood jell. . I mentioned how supportive this community is to my wife, and she saw the reaction this morning when I woke up. I told her about this post and she reminded me about the night I saw the watch. We were watching something about retro toys on TV and I mentioned I once had a Mickey Mouse watch. I told her, I wanted one, again. That was until I saw them on Ebay. When I saw it, it came crashing back.

It was 2 small memories. 2 memories, I had repressed. 2 very violent memories. What worries me, is what else can't I remember? Things that are more graphic, and terrifying for me and my conscious thought isn't letting those things through. I know they are there, because I have physical sensations vibrating inside of me, with no memory ownership. It's like waking up with the taste of pizza on your breath, with no memory of having pizza, your breath tells you, you've been there, but you can't remember going, and these are the things I am afraid of.
 
I feel like it is about trust of cellular memories and learning to read and accept even though you don't understand reactions that the insight will come in time. I have found through my journey that the more I 'let go' of the anxiety of what was to come - what memories lurked inside that I would be able to process them. Less anxiety about it seemed to allow me to process better, then, in time, more memories are released.

I honour your courage and respect your journey.
 
@shimmerz thank you for the encouraging words and good sense insight into approach with therapy and healing. It's bee a long time in coming. Today I woke up and I felt rested. No flashbacks, I don't feel drained, and the chronic pain was moderate compared to yesterday. Yesterday's pain level was high and it required me to splint the affected areas with pillows. Today over the counter Advil will take the edge off it. I know the pain will trigger flashbacks if it continues for a long time or if it gets extreme. We just started treating the chronic pain with medication about 3 weeks ago.
 
I can hear myself agonal breathing...The sound of the breathing, triggered the images.

My family was sued this summer, by a friend, for 3x what we owed them. I haven't been able to keep a job since 2012. As hard as I try, I can't keep it together. It's not enough to put on my pants and face the day, no, they demand you make a profit and if you don't they step on your neck. They abuse you, call you names, scream at you, demand you put in longer days and come in on your day off, naturally this sort of thing, triggers me because this was why I fired that rifle 1/4 of an inch from my heart. I only missed that day because I thought my heart was just to the left of the sternum bone. I am grateful, I didn't know, what I know today about anatomy. If I knew what I know today, I would have fired it there. Every time I hear that agonal breathing, I see a ballistic gelatin block and a bullet passing through, in slow motion. I want to scream, crawl under a tree and cry for hours. I never did anything to hurt anyone. The peace of my home was shattered last night when the server knocked on the door and handed me the papers. We knew it was coming.

We have lawyers helping us with SSDI. We have lawyers helping us with Chapter 7, as of this week...but money we were going to use to pay rent for the next several months, has to pay the BK lawyer. She heard my life story and lowered her fee by half.

But I am tired. I don't want to be strong anymore. I want to sit on a picnic bench and watch my kids play. I don't want to hear agonal breathing, watch ballistic gel blocks explode in slow motion and know, that was my little chest at that moment. I don't want to smell blood or feel the physical pain. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
 
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