You know what? I hate Trauma! Really, I do. Unfortunately, Trauma has an undeniable fondness for me! It’s annoying, not only for me but those around me and other people who have to deal with it as well. It’s like this… You do so well for a while, sometimes even a long time, then, suddenly something minuscule triggers you and all Hell breaks loose. All of a sudden the you that is capable, and very much able, of handling such little amounts of stress becomes mean, bitter and hateful. You become a monster. You start to do things that no sane person would ever do and most wouldn’t even comprehend. And the worst part? The worst part is that you are halfway okay with it. There is a part of you that really, truly loves hurting people and another that absolutely hates it. It becomes a battle inside–a survival of the fittest. A sneaky little fella, Trauma is! It doesn’t really have a schedule. It decides when and where it will pop up, and when it does, it’s pretty vicious. It takes every bit of trust, love, and care out of you and all of a sudden you are this “naked” being, standing once again in the middle of chaos. It’s not a bad bare, but rather a welcoming, comfortable chaos kind of bare. It retaliates and attacks the people who have worked so hard, so diligently to minimize it; the people who love the being through the Trauma. It spits, bites, hits, kicks, pinches, screams, swears, and speaks the most nasty language known to man. It’s disgusting and disturbing, turning the love away in any way possible. Trauma is like a flaming, red-hot chili pepper eaten by the most timid mouthed child. It’s painful. It’s harmful. It’s downright undesirable to be around. Trauma discourages meaningful relationship and strongly persuades dysfunctional ones. Trauma treasures turmoil.
Trauma seems to be a very close friend of mine, but an even closer enemy. It likes to sneak up on me, and surprise me, in moments that I’m not expecting it to–in moments that even though there was stress, I’ve allowed vulnerability and love into my locked down, turtle heart. It knocks at my door and before I can refuse Its entrance, It barges in and takes over. Every piece of me is doused in anger and frustration towards the world. I become Trauma and my whole world is turned back upside down, or right-side-up. I become nasty and mean. I start saying hurtful things to the people who love me. I push them until I am sure they wont come back. I attack them in angry rages, battering and bruising them. I start to feel triumphant and mighty, like nothing in the world can stop me. My world starts revolving around the things that happened long ago. I become mixed and confused about reality and flashbacks, making me more and more angry. And then, it ends. Sometimes with the help of someone close, other times by forcing the Trauma out of me, myself. I’m left exhausted and beat. My whole body trembles in fear of the damage I’ve done. I start to feel terrible about the horrendous monster I’ve become. It’s so taxing. It teaches great lessons and the more that I fight the Trauma, the easier it is to kick It out when It decides to occupy my space. It’s one of the many disastrous blessings we Trauma folkies have been blessed with…just another pestilent frenemy.