desiderata310
VIP Member
OK. Yeah. I'm triggered right f*cking now and why? I don't know! I think it was over something banal on How I Met Your Mother. Swear I think I can't watch TV or movies anymore. f*ck. Trying to calm down but I am just… ugh…
I didn't exactly tell my therapist that I was suicidal but after our last session he wanted to know how I had faired I didn't go into detail except to say that it was up and down.
*up and down up and down round and round…*
How was I dealing with our conversation last week? It's my f*cking soul. My sense of good vs evil and I'm still trying to sort it out. It will always be easier to blame me for everything. Always. Could someone else be to blame? It's so messy. I didn't say all that, I babbled…
I pushed forward and told him about the conversation with mom, about Chuck… Or I think I did…at some point I must have quit talking because he asked me "hey what's going on in there?" I'm not sure how much I told him really but I started to tell him. Some of this is so jumbled. He asked me questions.. was dad there? I think he was? I can't say for certain. Chuck was there. He was there when dad wasn't. Did dad know? I don't know. Arizona is a jumbled mess. Hazy fog of me doing inappropriate things and having bad things done to me. I remember being naked and being at once pleased and angry and ashamed. I can't seem to remember but I remember enough to feel ill. Did things happen more than once? Yes. We knew Chuck for a long time. He'd been around the family like an uncle only closer with my dad. Chuck was at the house when dad wasn't there..Maybe they didn't work the same shift? Chuck was supposed to check in on me. He always smelled like garlic. A diet he was on. Dad smelled like it too during that time. He was on that diet. Or maybe Chuck just spent a lot of time around him.
It feels like trying to remember something through a fog. I can describe the typewriter -telephone the deaf girl next door had but I can't remember what the kitchen in that house looked like. I can remember the smell and look of the carpet but I can't remember who was in the room when things happened. Or maybe it was only that one person. Did dad know? Does it matter?
Talked about learning how to disappear that year. I got really good at it. It's always been important to disappear. He said he got the sense that I was proud of it. It's a skill. Most people spend their lives getting people to look at them but I could be in a class of 25 other students and the teacher could never remember I was there. Talked about scouts and my unceremonious exit. They never even noticed I was gone. I just up and left and no one called about me after. Yeah. I am proud of it. I could hide in my backyard in that grapefruit tree for hours and not get caught. Even today, I know how to very quietly exit a room and leave without anyone knowing I was there. I've made a living at it.
I don't know what set it off. I started to get triggered… I staggered a little and tried to press on to other things.. not scary stuff….He asked me about his proximity to the door and blocking it- he moved at this point and I felt better and we continued on talking about work stuff… telling my son about being in therapy… talked about the issues with an iPhone not blocking calls just directing them to voicemail. I was already in full blown trigger and I couldn't figured it out… why was it so hard to breath and focus? Why did he keep telling me to focus on my breathing?
I was full out shaking and he was asking me questions about how I dealt with getting triggered at work? What do I do there? I was trying to think and connect the dots and listen but it was like he was talking through a pillow and he had disappeared from the room. It was just me and a disembodied voice telling me to breath deeply and the blue walls and the white door across the way.
Not sure how or for how long it took but I came back He was talking about grounding techniques and wanting me to figure out what worked and what didn't. What could help? Opening the door? Walking around? I should keep breathing because I quit when I get triggered. Not sure I was completely OUT of the fog and he kept asking me questions. The elephant was STOMPING on my chest still and I couldn't figure out where my therapist was sitting.
He said it was the first time I'd triggered in a session when we weren't doing EMDR.
I get triggered over little-who-knows-what but not over big stuff.
Well, there's that.
Eye is twitching.
Rode home in the pouring rain and was grateful. It brought me back. Being cold and wet lifted the fog.
I didn't exactly tell my therapist that I was suicidal but after our last session he wanted to know how I had faired I didn't go into detail except to say that it was up and down.
*up and down up and down round and round…*
How was I dealing with our conversation last week? It's my f*cking soul. My sense of good vs evil and I'm still trying to sort it out. It will always be easier to blame me for everything. Always. Could someone else be to blame? It's so messy. I didn't say all that, I babbled…
I pushed forward and told him about the conversation with mom, about Chuck… Or I think I did…at some point I must have quit talking because he asked me "hey what's going on in there?" I'm not sure how much I told him really but I started to tell him. Some of this is so jumbled. He asked me questions.. was dad there? I think he was? I can't say for certain. Chuck was there. He was there when dad wasn't. Did dad know? I don't know. Arizona is a jumbled mess. Hazy fog of me doing inappropriate things and having bad things done to me. I remember being naked and being at once pleased and angry and ashamed. I can't seem to remember but I remember enough to feel ill. Did things happen more than once? Yes. We knew Chuck for a long time. He'd been around the family like an uncle only closer with my dad. Chuck was at the house when dad wasn't there..Maybe they didn't work the same shift? Chuck was supposed to check in on me. He always smelled like garlic. A diet he was on. Dad smelled like it too during that time. He was on that diet. Or maybe Chuck just spent a lot of time around him.
It feels like trying to remember something through a fog. I can describe the typewriter -telephone the deaf girl next door had but I can't remember what the kitchen in that house looked like. I can remember the smell and look of the carpet but I can't remember who was in the room when things happened. Or maybe it was only that one person. Did dad know? Does it matter?
Talked about learning how to disappear that year. I got really good at it. It's always been important to disappear. He said he got the sense that I was proud of it. It's a skill. Most people spend their lives getting people to look at them but I could be in a class of 25 other students and the teacher could never remember I was there. Talked about scouts and my unceremonious exit. They never even noticed I was gone. I just up and left and no one called about me after. Yeah. I am proud of it. I could hide in my backyard in that grapefruit tree for hours and not get caught. Even today, I know how to very quietly exit a room and leave without anyone knowing I was there. I've made a living at it.
I don't know what set it off. I started to get triggered… I staggered a little and tried to press on to other things.. not scary stuff….He asked me about his proximity to the door and blocking it- he moved at this point and I felt better and we continued on talking about work stuff… telling my son about being in therapy… talked about the issues with an iPhone not blocking calls just directing them to voicemail. I was already in full blown trigger and I couldn't figured it out… why was it so hard to breath and focus? Why did he keep telling me to focus on my breathing?
I was full out shaking and he was asking me questions about how I dealt with getting triggered at work? What do I do there? I was trying to think and connect the dots and listen but it was like he was talking through a pillow and he had disappeared from the room. It was just me and a disembodied voice telling me to breath deeply and the blue walls and the white door across the way.
Not sure how or for how long it took but I came back He was talking about grounding techniques and wanting me to figure out what worked and what didn't. What could help? Opening the door? Walking around? I should keep breathing because I quit when I get triggered. Not sure I was completely OUT of the fog and he kept asking me questions. The elephant was STOMPING on my chest still and I couldn't figure out where my therapist was sitting.
He said it was the first time I'd triggered in a session when we weren't doing EMDR.
I get triggered over little-who-knows-what but not over big stuff.
Well, there's that.
Eye is twitching.
Rode home in the pouring rain and was grateful. It brought me back. Being cold and wet lifted the fog.
