anxiety, and how past events haunt your very present
It seems that, despite moving far away from my family, the events that unfolded in my youth still are trapped within me.
The sound of keys dangling scares me. I want to hide when someone (accidentally) slams the door. A big "sigh" at work by a senior co-worker releases a spike of cortisol - reminding me of my father, who would make similar sighs before verbally berating me.
Now, for a lot of people, these can be everyday things - things that they pay no attention to. But they haunt me, years later, as a man in his mid-20s. Isn't that so interesting?
There's a book called The Body Keeps The Score that I read months ago that delves into how trauma develops and is encased in our bodies. One quote stuck out to me:
Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from their selves.
This is, perhaps, exactly how I feel. These people are long gone. They have no control over me. And yet, in my freedom, I find only chains: chains to the past, chains to family ties, and chains to who I am now. I've moved away and yet they are in every cell of my body, sticking to each nuclei, telling me that I will never, ever truly escape.
It's still something I'm working on, especially after reading The Body Keeps The Score. But it is difficult; extremely so. I've considered therapy but the thought of being so vulnerable in front of anyone is frightening. But I really do think I must go, sooner or later.
I'm blessed to have wonderful people in my life now, but I worry they are misguided of their perception of me: smart, funny, friendly, and hard working. Maybe what they say is true. But they don't know the little kid who's hiding beneath all of that, or how my body shuts down, and how I try to erase the past with no avail.
Perhaps facing it really is the only option. Is it like that for you, reader? Must one really look into the abyss, not knowing what's there, and having to jump into it?