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Remembering My Trauma

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bonnecanyon

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I haven't thought about this in a long time, but now that I'm in therapy bits and pieces are flooding back into my memory. Mostly at night when I'm waiting for sleep to come.

It was April 2, 1980. My daughter was exactly 2 months old - born Feb 2, 1980. It was my mother's birthday. I just got home from visiting family and my daughter had fallen asleep in the car. I took her inside in her car seat as to not wake her.

I heard a knock on the door. I thought it was the newspaper delivery girl. I told her I would buy a paper from her if she ever had any extras at the end of the day. I lived in a duplex and she delivered to the neighbor. I opened the door with a smile ready to buy a paper from her. Instead I was facing 2 scary men.

I should insert here that my husband was doing drugs - and selling them on the side to pay for his habit. We were only married because I got pregnant - and I told him the baby would not have his last name unless he married me. So he did.

One of the guys said "we need to buy a lid." I said, you're at the wrong house. Then he pulled out a gun and cocked it and said "where's the drugs?" and "give us all your money."

I put my hands up and they forced their way into the house. I started to pee my pants. I turned around and they put the gun in my back. I knew enough about gun safety to know that a cocked gun can go off a lot easier. Thoughts of rape and death flashed in my head. Then I saw my life as if watching a movie. My childhood, my teens, my early 20's, then my daughter. When it reached the present moment, the movie stopped. Then I could hear myself breathing.

They took all the cash and all the drugs and said "count to 100." I started counting. . . then they were gone. I felt frozen. Should I move? Are they really gone?

Slowly I turned around to check - was it safe? No one was there. I went to the front door to see if they were gone. I opened it and looked out. There was no sound. There were no cars on the street. There were no people walking down the sidewalk. There were no families in their front yard. It was like the twilight zone. It was like there was no "air" in the universe. Was this a dream or did it really happen?

Then my daughter woke up. I tried to breast feed her, but my milk wouldn't come out. She cried and I tried over and over to feed her, to comfort her but I couldn't.

more later. . .
 
Welcome to the forum:hello:

You've made a great start in facing the fears of telling your story. I'm so sorry that you were threatened in such a way that made you think that rape and/or death was going to be the end of the situation. I'm glad that you physically survived!

Keep reading, writing and learning. You can feel better and challenge yourself to give yourself and your little girl a GREAT life.

:Hug_emoticon: Beth
 
Welcome Bonnecanyon!!

So glad you were able to get out that nightmare. Please know we are here to help in any way we can and know that you are SAFE. It takes a lot of strength to talk about our trauma. You are off to a great start!!

Welcome to the forum and know that many of us know how you feel. Continue to take things in baby steps and keep reaching out.

Love and prayers your way...
 
Hiya BC

It must have been just awful to go through that, and frustrating to realize you couldn't feed your baby.

It took strength to write this down on here. I wish you all the best in your recovery. If you feel the need to chat, we're here for you.

JM53
 
Ok. .so I'm at my therapist appointment. We're talking about the doorbell on Halloween freaking me out. Was triggered multiple times that night - (and I'm thinking it's because of the drug thing that I mentioned earlier).

So we're doing some hypnotheraphy and all of a sudden I'm 5 years old and it's Halloween night. The doorbell is ringing and ringing and I have to keep telling my friends that we don't have any candy and that we're moving. My parents are splitting up. I tell one kid and he yells to the next kid, "don't go to that house - they're moving and they don't have any candy." My mom is yelling at me. I can't remember what she is saying but I feel like I'm doing something wrong. And the doorbell keeps ringing.

So as I'm making this connection between a 28 year old's trauma and a 5 year old's trauma and why the doorbell thing triggers me, the fire alarm in the building goes off. I'm still in a semi-hypnotic state and it takes awhile for me to realize that we need to leave the building. So I go outside and wait for my therapist as she instructs.

She finally comes out and we decide to walk downtown and find a coffee shop to "just talk" and kinda finish the session as best we can. We find a table outside and are winding down and are amazed at the coincidence of noises for me that day when a car drives by and honks! I about flew out of my skin. What the f*ck! :wall: Is there any place on this earth that is quiet? Can I have a moment here to recover without another jolt of sound?

I told this story to my friend the other night on the phone and she said "you're laughing!" "I haven't heard you laugh in a long long time." "You must be getting better." Wow! I was laughing at myself (and the situation). It was a revealing moment - it felt good. Maybe, just maybe I AM getting better.

And I have to give credit to this website - without it and the knowledge I have gained and the new friendships I have made here - who knows what shape I'd be in right now, today. Cause that's all I have is right now, today.
 
Hi Bonnecanyon,


When I read your initial post on this thread, I had pangs of fear running through my gut just imagining the horror of what you went through that day. But I'm glad I read this thread to its end to see that you're gf caught you laughing, I'd use that as a marker of success!

Way to go, take heed of even the smallest step forward!
:occasion:
C
 
BC,

I think that laughing is a good way to help deal with it, and it is a good measure of success! Thank you for sharing this personal story I learned more about PTSD from it. I can relate to the lack of sound to the twilight zone feeling...that is one of the most scary feelings one can experience in life, when your own senses fail or are altered or just go plain wonky it is really unnerving. I am thankful that they just left and did not have any of the outcomes you imagined. About the milk it is really interesting that your body reacted that quickly to the trauma, the nuances of PTSD still surprise me. Of course I am sorry you could not feed your daughter.

Keep talking, keep taking steps. GOOD JOB!!!

One,

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