Sunday, August 5, 2012

Trembling

My brain snapped when I was 18.

I'd come from a long line of anxiety and depression riddled family members; it was only natural that I would inherit the chemical gene and growing up in an environment where I could sense the prevailing anxiety and depression that loomed in the air shaped my natural temperament.  Yet I was a happy child with a fanciful imagination, but always tinged with sadness, fear, and self-doubt.


I probably could have gone my entire life not really being too effected by my chemical imbalance.  I would have had my happy days and my not so happy days.  I would have been able to chalk things up to PMS, lack of sleep, or poor diet. 


But then my brain snapped when I was 18. 


Raped.
Verbally Abused.
Stalked.
Humiliated.
Belittled.
Threatened.


One night I thought I was going to choke to death.


But I pushed it all away.  Convinced myself that I was to blame, that I should have stayed away, that it was really just a bad breakup.

For years my heart would race uncontrollably at times.  I would cry without understanding what had set me off.  I'd jump every time I saw men with dark crew-cut hair or glasses. I would scream if people, intentionally or accidentally, walked up behind me without my knowledge. 

I just shook it off; I'd tell myself that  I was a spaz, jumpy, just high strung.  The doctor's have a name for that.  


PTSD

 It was almost 12 years ago, but sometimes there is a trigger that my subconscious picks.  One moment I am fine, the next my hands begin to tremble, my pulse races, and my airways narrow making each breath a challenge. 


And it's so fucking frustrating!  


I internally berate myself: 
                    "It was over 12 years ago!  Get the fuck over it!  Are you putting on a 
                     show  for attention?  Why do you have to randomly make it apparent 
                     that you aren't fully functional?  Can't you knock it off?"


Intellectually, I know the mind stores memories very deep.  That these uncontrollable, unintentional, involuntary reactions are part of who I am, who I have become.  

I know that they are part of me, that they will always be lurking in the dark recesses of my conscious.  

But I know they are not going to rule my life.

So I sit here, trembling and fighting to take a deep breath, waiting for this storm to pass.  The calm will arrive eventually; I will be exhausted, needing to crawl into bed. 


Jesus told the storms to calm; please Lord send that peace my way.