Triggered

I was triggered last night. Just a 3AM noise that triggered me to think someone was trying to break into my backyard and come into my room and rape me. I know, that escalated fast. That’s how my brain works. My thoughts derailed into millions of situations that could occur. I took breaks between trying to listen and fall back to sleep. Before I knew it, it was 4:30am. Normally that’s around the time I can sleep. Nobody robs or rapes after 4am. At least that’s what I tell myself to cope. This time I couldn’t calm myself down and I called my roommate to check her windows for any burglars. She assured me we were fine, but I kept hearing noises and asked her to come sleep with me.

Nights like that bring up hate, anger, sadness, frustration, and hopelessness. Hate towards my father for giving me a life sentence with CPTSD. Anger towards my mother for not caring or at least feeling sorry enough for me to call. I hate that I’ve lost hope on my relationship with my mother. One of the biggest blows to my self-esteem was begging her to stay in my life. There’s got to be something wrong with me for my own mother to choose an abuser, right? Carried me for 9 months, had a gut-wrenching difficult birth, raised me for 26 years and still decides I don’t need a mother. Which I can conclude means she doesn’t need me either. Days like that I wish I could call her, and guilt trip her. Tell her how much I need her and remind her of how much harm the abuse has caused me. Days like that I wonder if I will ever get a good night’s sleep alone. I wonder if one day noise won’t be a trigger for me.

Oh yeah and after triggers come nightmares about my abuser.

Life is not fair. It sucks sometimes.

I could go on and on, but you get the point.

It’s not just about the abuse – it’s about the effects I must cope with.