I’m sick today, so I stayed home from work. I feel kind of dizzy, feel weak, and don’t want to do anything. My eyes feel funny, like I’m really tired.

I also feel triggered. I have for 3 days now. I wasn’t able to get into EMDR yesterday because of it. That’s okay, not getting into EMDR, because I didn’t need to get more wound up.

Today I told my wife how I feel, how it sucks to be triggered and not know why, how I hate not having the words necessary to describe how I feel, or what I am going through. I’ve told that to her before. It’s nice talking to someone about it, someone who doesn’t misunderstand.

We took a nap. During the nap my wife kept moving her arm. I felt really uncomfortable, even afraid, every time she moved. I couldn’t describe it. Then, when it was time to get up, she asked me to massage her shoulder. She had been moving her arm because it hurt. I massaged her shoulder and thought about how I was triggered by her moving her arm because it reminded me of Mom. It reminded me of Mom moving her white arm with the board attached, beating me until I went senseless. That’s what Mom did.

She started beating me when I was young, five years old, maybe four, using her hand. That hurt her too much, so she started using a hairbrush. That worked but then the hairbrush broke. The next one broke as well. She had a collection of broken hairbrushes in her bathroom drawer. Eventually, I believe, she got tired of breaking hairbrushes, and besides, she needed something with more impact. I was becoming numb. So, after that she used a three-foot-long one by two piece of pine. My dad had a lot laying around, pieces of pine, after he used them for backing to the paneling he put up in the rec-room.

Mom used the board to get more impact, and to have something that didn’t break. She was very good about making sure the impact was appropriate. Later she told me that she didn’t want to leave a mark that others could see. If she left a mark she could get in trouble. She did leave a mark; it was just invisible.

She kept the board on top of the refrigerator, right on the front edge so you could see it all of the time. She took it down when my brothers and I needed to be controlled. I felt controlled. I didn’t like the feeling of being beat. I liked being controlled better.

Then one day the board broke. I laughed. Mom smiled. She didn’t beat me that day. I don’t remember her beating me after. She told me later, when I was an adult, that we at some point had become too big to be beat. I would guess that was when we became too numb for the board. She would have had to escalate, and she couldn’t think of anything to beat me with that wouldn’t cause serious or apparent harm.

The harm was serious. It’s apparent to me.


I hear you. My stepdad lost his power one night when he was stoned. He tried to put me over his knee when I was 11. I asked him in front of the rest of my siblings “why do you want to touch my butt?” I feel like there was a fighter growing in me from day one. There were too many people around those days. And so he quit hitting me until one day he grabbed me by the hair and picked me up. I quickly grabbed a fork off of the floor and stabbed him in the foot with it and he dropped me.

My other stepdad lost his power to about the same year. He grabbed me by the shirt and raised fist to me. I pushed him into the front door and cracked it and hurt his back. His friend, who he let torment me took it one step too far and I threw a crystal ashtray at his knee.

They got what they deserved.
So many years later after a number of traumatic events I have PTSD.
So many years after my onset, anger is spilling out of me. Fortunately my dear friend understands. We both know I won’t raise a hand. But my words are very harsh out of nowhere. I really don’t know this person very well.

It’s taking me a long time to understand a few things wrong with me and I have made some peace. I can build a life with someone and have and now this.

My abusers have left a mark that was buried deep for a long time. Now I have to figure out how to control it. How to neutralize it.

I know I am calm and rational. I am charming and romantic and loving. And if even she pushes a certain button of mine I will rip her or anyone else apart with my words.

I don’t know this person. But I am deeply remorseful for becoming him.

Take care as these parts that may rear their ugly heads. My life has been chock full of opening doors good and bad and having to tone down the me that comes out on the other side.


I would like to know the same. Is it supposed to coexist and be quelled? If so how because nothing on the Internet has told my brain to slow down and consider my options. My brain short circuits and is overriding my better judgment. Perhaps that is something I will have to develop and learn over a lifetime. I know right now that my condition is not being managed very well or maybe it is it is just the circumstances.