The Voice of Chaos

I have been struggling with a trigger as of late. Why is it when I feel some one is  “off” do I insist on invading there personal space and pushing all in effort to learn what is wrong?

Its a good question – especially because I have made a conscious effort to not do it. Yet I still find myself in an uncontrollable fear around it.

I say uncontrollable because at this point when it happens I feel as though I am watching it occur, taking notes, analyzing myself in hopes of learning where the behavior is coming from.

Last night I had what I call a therapy dream. Its a dream where I feel like I am sitting down with myself and discussing those notes.

To often I forget that Post traumatic stress disorder occurs in some people after a traumatic event. Complex Post traumatic stress disorder just means there was lots of traumatic events.  Not all events have to be related to my childhood.

I try as much as possible to compare and contrast my explosive behavior at an earlier age with my more subtle behavior now.  Understand I do not think all my behavior is just uncontrollable Just some of it.

The flip between anger – out to protect the child like characteristic I have at times. And then finally submission of the  a child. Afraid for its very life.

Why though? Learn why, then learn how to talk to yourself. Is learning why only deluding myself into accepting a bad situation? Who knows. I know I did it once before. I know I deluded myself into becoming something I truly did not want to be with J. Ok so a level of protection and a recognition that while the situation I am responding to could be something that requires a response, the response given is not one in my control. Get it in my control is the goal.The problem is I  must learn to be ME when responding.

Ok so why? Why when I get that feeling, the one I can not shake that something is wrong, why do I push? Why do I lack respect? Why do I not allow my partner to simply BE and come to me when they are ready?

Fear – most things are motivated by fear or insecurity.

Ok time for a story – I am warning you its not pretty and no one likes to hear the things that have occured badly in some ones life. Or maybe you read this because I am like a car wreck and you can not look away.

Most of you know I spent a year with a single goal – break all my personal rules and then make new ones. It never occurred to me that I built those rules to protect myself. In hindsight I think I might have been more selective about the ones I broke – had I thought it through.

This is as a joke known as  “operation remove stick from ass” To me though at times it was the seventh layer of my personal hell.

There was a boy. Isn’t there always a boy.  He was my first broken rule. I was warned about him. His own friend “Krista this man is trouble.” I was naive and then not so much. I wanted trouble. I wanted to break the block that had kept me in a place far to long. I needed to take the link of deep emotion and sex and separate them. In hind sight I really did not need to do that. It would take me so many years to get that link back.

I was drunk. I had never been that drunk in my life. And RARELY since then. We were in the back of his car, in a bar parking lot. Classy I know. I tried to tally up what I had drank – it wasn’t a lot. I would learn over a year later the reason I had such a blotty memory was a small amount of GHB – the first time some one gave me some. Not the last. Does the GHB account for what happens next?  I doubt it. Maybe though. I wanted to rebel. The GHB was an accident – both times I received it was an accident.

***side note: rig workers often give themselves GHB as a way to enhance a drunk at a lower price, I was a chronic stealer of sips of drinks****

I asked for a glass of water. I was so thirsty. I was told there was only one way I was getting out of the car for a glass of water. In my drunken haze the request seemed reasonable. It was what I was after any way. It was a rule I needed to break. I never got the glass of water (I should have realized that). I tried to leave with out his name, with out anything. I never wanted to see him again. I had gotten what I wanted – a way to finally escape myself and my rules. He gave his number to one of my friends, made me promise I would call.

A month later – bored, lonely who knows. I called him. During the rest of my stint in Fairview we would talk weekly. I was still wild and crazy and doing what ever I wanted. My weekly talks with him were normal. He would talk about his work and his family and I would talk about my life before Fairview – never what was happening there.

All sorts of stuff happened – that is for another day another time. But you need to know all of this because of what happens next. Maybe understand why the next part shocked me. Maybe also understand why if I had even been remotely myself – I a. would never have spoke to this boy b. would never have given him the time of day. c. would have never called him again – especially because I never got my glass of water.

On my way back to Vancouver – to start a job. Me my truck and my dog. Just outside of fox creek – BANG and then smoke. A farmer towed me off the road. I was stranded. I called my dad – “I can not help you, you are on your own. Your moms in PG and I am on my way to camp – good luck.” It took me a long time to stop hating him for that.

I called the boy. I didn’t know what else to do – I had his phone number memorized. Why I didn’t call any one else I still do not know. The boy said “meet me in Wataskiwin I will pick you up there, we can get your truck on the weekend.” He was as caring and kind as always.

I got myself to Wataskwin – it was semi uneventful. We had not seen each other since that night in the car. We went back to his hotel room. He was sweet and kind. I told him no. My reasons for saying No are mine and I will keep them to myself, but either way it was not happening.

He went to work in the morning. I proceeded to figure out a way out of my predicament. He returned that night – said a crew mate of his was coming into town and all the girls loved him. He was insecure that I would chase him.  Dinner with his crew mate, turned into drinks, turned into pool. My habit of sipping his drink got me into trouble again – this time he told me why. The night proceeded and I told him NO again. This time he rolled over and refused to talk to me. Not a word to me. The next day he got back from work and said nothing to me just took my stuff removed it from his hotel room and put it in the hallway. I had just spent the day figuring out I could start a job in Lacomb not to far from where we were. I could then be closer to get my truck and my dog.

His crew mate offered me a ride to the bus station. I accepted. It became clear that he was NOT taking me to the bus station and said “Don’t worry I will drive you to Red Deer” My ride to Lacomb was arranged from Red Deer  in the morning.

Ok I said. Noting I clearly was not being given a choice. We drove and talked and then we turned off a highway. I panicked – but I had never been any where in Alberta. the side road become  more desolate by the mile. He stopped the car.

I had imagined what I would do in this situation all my life I had. imagined how I could fight back. I can tell you I did nothing that I thought I would do. I was given two options. One was to be left on the Alberta back road. The other was to comply with his request. Much to my personal shame, and what becomes the product of many night mares to date. I complied.  I analyzed the situation. I decided he was bigger then me, it was cold and dark (March) I was afraid.

The story continues. Of course it does. Bits and pieces of this journey from hell. The journey that just kept getting worse.My memory is spotty at times – clear other times.

Is this the thing I am reliving emotionally when my partner turns his back on me? When I feel his frustration but do not know why? Is this the thing that I am scared will happen if I do not do something anything.

Post traumatic stress causes a person to relive an event. To that person the shadows and echos are real.

A car back fires and a Vietnam vet hits the deck. He responded at that moment as if he was else where. Is this where I go?

My emotions of solid fear so strong I can not control. drugs knock me out. They do not stop the fear. Its consistent the fear. Its always there when ever it happens.

Judith Herman in the book Trauma and Recovery writes “healing can not take place for the victim of trauma with out a supportive relationship”

I want to heal myself – but some how I think I need the help of those around me.  Maybe speaking directly to the fear. Maybe now that I THINK I have an idea of where it comes from I can address the fear when it happens. “K you are not going to be kicked out by B with no way home and no idea what to do next. He is not going to stop talking to you. He has been your friend for 10 years.”

Thinks I know but need to believe at that moment.

Why does growth have to cause me to shed so many tears and relive so much hurt? Maybe I should have followed some rules. I can assure you there are lots I will never break again!