Today I pondered depression, anxiety, the usual...
and I wondered IF I never suffered the typical trauma victims conditions,
then maybe that is why I don't seem to connect with others effectively. Meaning, sure I make friends very easily, but somehow there is always a small detachment.
To put it into context, a typical example of this would be my inability to have a close girlfriend, with out getting pissed off at her needy girly ways. I use to chalk this up to being irritated that the majority of women don't take care of themselves and jump from Daddy to whoever without even thinking about it. And that kind of thinking coming from a daddy's girl, is impressive. The few strong women I do meet, blow me away. But I still find it amazing, that even these strong women get weak in the knees for a man with a fat wallet. I could go on about the psychology to this, and how it pertains to me. (because trust me, If I could swallow my pride, and find a man that I could almost tolerate, that would and could take care of me... I would think about it. Because it beats eating ramen under a stack of old comforters just to stay warm AND still shake from the bitterness that is your home. well.. in theory at least)
But the idea is, I couldn't stomach these women who had every problem in the world, but exactly none at all. Boo hoo bitch, Im sorry you spent too much on the credit card that IS IN YOUR HUSBANDS NAME and he cut you off. Go home and cry about it into your organic curry and expensive whine, and leave my cold hungry ass alone! See what I mean, can't stand them. I always chalked up my attitude about it as being bitter, from my upbringing. Being taught to never depend on anyone, even my own family. Which is halfway true, but then I started realizing, I always manage to find excuses to not confide in someone. I think MAN we could so be best friends, if it wasn't for your intolerable WHINING.
The cool thing is, I use to hold my lovers to the same standards. They can't be whiney, needed, stubborn, aggressive, abusive, ignorant, etc. But, when they say love is blind, its the truth, because you never see any of that coming. then bam, a year later your like.. why am I still with this boy? He acts like a toddler. But again, that could be a whole other round of psychology based on "boys never grow up" bullshit.
Moving on. My point is, instead of all this being justified by skinning my teeth with psychological jargon. I think it boils down to trauma. First, a building trauma, made up by a series of unfortunate events that lead my preschool life by its nose hairs. I mean, imagine being 3 and sleeping in different houses every few months. then stretch that concept a few years, and add hotels, trailers, and trucks to that equation. Built trauma.
Then there is the one time trauma. As seen in my post "Cuffed at midnight". Parent separation round 2, because round one, revolves around my dream. So riddle me that.
Then there is living with the trauma afterwards. And then experiences rounds of neglect and abuse throughout your preteen years, while trying to heal the trauma from early childhood.
Its like a mixing pot of nonsense.
And now, at age 22 I think I know exactly what I did to survive it all.
I think the night my mom got arrested, a part of my brain switched off, or shut down. I acted on instinct, then never stopped.
I remember recalling not feeling the cold while standing on the playground at school that following winter.
I remember coming in from outside, peeling off my wet clothes that I had packed snow on to. Then taking off my shirt, and not feeling naked as I walked into my first grade classroom.
I remember the following spring, playing on the playground, running around barefoot. Then running through a puddle and falling on my back. I just laid there until my dad yanked me up and whooped my ass for being stupid.
I don't remember being sad when I said goodbye to my grandma or little brother. I didn't cry until I got older.
Its almost as if i put my brain on auto pilot.
I didn't even have many wants or desires during that time period. I didn't care.
I saved my allowance every week during third grade, because I didn't care to use it. When we moved my dad found $250 some dollars stuffed into a penny bank.
I didn't start feeling again until I felt anger.
Anger and hurt towards my step mom who came into my life when I was 10.
that is where it began, crying when Im angry.
I can't divide the two feelings very well, but Im getting better.
I made myself numb and defensive to the world around me, and I finally realize it 15 years later.
Self harm is one thing, and often isn't performed with the idea of death in mind. It doesn't even cross your mind. Its wondering how something feels, and if you can control how it feels. Its understanding fear. I didn't do self harm as much as I whiling found harm.
Like 18 piercings in one year. just to see if my body could handle it, and rate the pain scale.
Have you ever been so scared, your brain shuts down?
it feels like it skips a pump. the blood just stops. and your eyes shake from the tightening of your nerves.
can you imagine that being triggered by a memory? or a thought? or a place?
that is anxiety
but that is also emotional detachment. Once your brain enters that stage, it has shut down the pain receptors and response reflexes. So If you are confronted with death, you most likely won't feel most of it. maybe a little pinch. -_0
I think I spent 3 years with my brain like that. frozen. I lived in motions. I did this, then that. And enjoyed being alone.
so when the anger happened, it was the only thing that could make it through the freeze. It burned, and I could feel it. So I used it (no regrets)
It wasn't until 2009, that I started feeling sadness. And even that was somewhat filtered.
Like Im thawing out, but there are still parts that are frozen solid.
I can feel my body again. I can feel my skin, my feet, my hands. But I feel almost alienated, like Im not suppose to be in the physical nature I am in.
I don't feel like I am explaining this accurately, mostly because I am really tired. But its exciting, and a little scary at the same time. But if this is how you get over trauma, I am all for it. Even if it makes me a wreck for a while.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotional_detachment
http://www.helpguide.org/mental/emotional_psychological_trauma.htm
Childhood trauma results from anything that disrupts a child’s sense of safety and security, including:
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