Archives for posts with tag: don’t pull that trigger!

Queue “Love Rollercoaster“… or…maybe “Love Rollercoaster“? Love has its ups and downs, not unlike a rollercoaster; it’s an appropriate metaphor. We deal with our own challenges – and our partners’. I’m confident that my Traveling Partner loves “all of me“. I count on his enduring love, “right down the line“. Maybe ours is an uncommon sort of love story – maybe not. I know this is our love – and it’s where I want to be. Sometimes love is like dancing, and I feel like I’ve “got the right dancing partner”, at long last.

Valentine’s Day? It was lovely. Spent lived, out loud, and wrapped in love. There are other experiences worth having. 🙂

I originally wrote a very different post under this title (on Friday). It was hurt-sounding, and infused with strong emotion, seasoned with pointless frustrated tears, and more than a hint of self-pitying catastrophizing. As the weekend proceeded, quite differently I’m pleased to note, my thinking on the writing (and events) of Friday evening continued to morph, evolve, mature, change, and deepen. I ascribed to the events first greater significance, then less, dwindling in magnitude of catastrophe and emotional pain over happy days spent in my partner’s good company, feeling loved, and loving, and enjoying our precious mortal moments together. At several points, I re-wrote, edited, adjusted, and refined my written thoughts, as my lived thoughts of the moment themselves changed. Mostly, I focused on being a better partner, better friend, and better love, and didn’t put nearly as much into writing about any of those things.

I spent quite a bit of time in a thoughtful place, reading “You Are Here” by Thích Nhất Hạnh. You’ll see a lot of his written work linked in my reading list – or on my book shelves. This one was a recent gift to me from my Traveling Partner to ease my sorrow when I learned of Thầy’s passing. Funny, I was so moved by my partner’s gift that simply receiving it was emotional and memorable; I felt so loved and understood. Diving into the work and actually reading it, this weekend of all weekends, I could see so much of the depth of my partner’s affection; every page seems to speak to our “here”, our “now”, and the very nature of Love itself. It led my thinking onward, gently, over the course of the weekend. Like a map, it helped me “find my way”.

Yesterday, on Valentine’s Day, I woke to an entirely different understanding of Friday evening’s moment of hurt and conflict. I found myself looking at it through a very different lens – one of real compassion and empathy, and awareness of what my partner is/may-be going through, himself, and pushing myself out of the hero’s role of the narrative in my head, to view our experience of each other through a more… equitable(?) perspective. We both have PTSD – and for both of us, the majority of that damage comes from intimate partnerships (other than our own, though at this point we’ve done ourselves a fair bit of emotional damage over a decade) or familial relationships. I now find myself painfully aware how often I insist I be nurtured and supported, while also pretty reliably overlooking his triggers, and his need to be emotionally supported, also. I shut him down when I “don’t feel heard”, instead of listening deeply because I care. I could do better. For sure. Like… probably a lot.

The tl;dr on Friday’s misadventure was simple enough; I triggered him (and did not recognize that in the moment), he reacted, and his reaction triggered me. I threw a fucking fit, and behaved incredibly poorly, and had a nasty temper tantrum we both could have done without. I wrecked a lovely romantic moment in the making, and we had a shit time of things that evening. (I feel fortunate that our love endures our individual and mutual bullshit.) We turned things around together over the course of the weekend, each of us “doing the verbs” to live our best versions of ourselves, and to love each other in the most healing way we could. Win and good; we enjoyed a lovely weekend together.

I thought about posting the original writing from Friday’s moment…but reading it, and even reading various edits and footnotes, I just “couldn’t find room for it” in my current thinking – I’ve already adjusted my thinking, and made room in my awareness to be more supportive and directly nurturing of my partner’s needs, and less strictly focused on my own. Self-care is supremely important, and boundary and expectation-setting is a pretty big deal for building lasting love – no argument there – and I’m not saying that it is any part of my plan to undermine those things (I’ve worked too hard “to get here”!). What I am saying is that I’m more aware that I’ve got room to grow and improve on how well I identify my partner’s need for emotional support, and could use some additional work on those skills, too. Love is a verb. Balance is a healthy quality.

…As silly as this is likely to sound, I put a ton of study and practice into self-care, and meeting my own needs, I somehow almost entirely overlooked how best to support a partner and their unique emotional needs in the context of their PTSD. I mean… for fucks’ sake, really?? Omg. Definitely time to begin again!

I woke to the alarm this morning, a rarity, and I woke with a sense of extreme relief to find myself awake and safe. Nightmares. More nightmares. They’ve already mostly faded from any hope of detailed recollection, although I rarely consider them in detail, once I have made my escape. I do remember a point during the night when I recognized that the strange heaving and shaking sensations that recurred in my dream world were my own unreserved sobbing in my sleep…I woke with swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, and that sensation like a desert wind had dried out my sinuses and my eyeballs. I must have cried for a long while. I dread facing days or weeks of my nightmares ramping up, eventually resulting in a deep reluctance to sleep at all, that over time becomes unsettled, disrupted sleep consisting mainly of unexpected naps interrupted by the panicked awareness that I have fallen asleep which rouses me abruptly, fearfully, and on the defensive – alert to the unseen enemy that may be lurking. I’ve been through it a few times before.  At its worst, I lived more than a decade of my life without ever having slept through a night, mostly only napping an hour at a time when I slept at all. (For now, it is not that bad.)

Sometimes all it takes to feel safe is opening my eyes to a new day.

So happy the night is over…

Do the details matter? The fear and anxiety are ugly enough without the details, aren’t they? There’s a frightened voice in my thoughts when I contemplate the ancient pain and damage in any detail…”Please don’t make me do this…” I avert my mind’s eye from my own experience far too often. I am torn apart by terror, old pain, old programming, the remnants of someone else’s will – and my own lingering rage.  Is it enough to acknowledge that my nightmares last night were populated with the faces of people who love me, whose love I recognize and accept – but the soundtrack was the voices of monsters dubbed in…and the message is clear. The damaged bits are making their own voices heard – “Don’t fuck with us!”  I know it is time, though…”time to turn and face the strange“… time to walk a path that takes me directly to the heart of who I am, and be ok with that... ok with me. It is time to slay some motherfucking demons*. It is time to fix the code, clean up the registry, uninstall the software creating the conflict in my OS…it is also, perhaps, time to find a more human metaphor for this experience. lol. (I can still laugh…even after a night of being screamed at in my sleep and assured that my life is not my own, that I have no will and no choice, that I do not deserve better, that everythingeverything – is ‘all my fault’. Being able to laugh after a night like this is a nice improvement.)

I spent some quiet moments enjoying the serenity of my aquarium.  Deep breaths. Yoga. A shower than could have been leisurely, but ended up rousing my startle reflex after the difficult night. (Have you ever taken a moment to wonder what it might be like to have one or more PTSD triggers that are totally daily events? Like… being in the shower? 😦 ) More meditation.  A quiet latte using the last of an almost empty bottle of maple syrup. (I like maple syrup in my coffee…is that strange?) A few gentle minutes with myself in the greenhouse, and in the garden… it all felt so good, so serene… but my night is like a nasty bruise; I brush against it and it hurts again.  Well, hell…it’s a lovely sunny day…and there are flowers.

Tiny white flowers...

Tiny white flowers…

Untidy purple flowers...

Untidy purple flowers…

Clusters of daisy-like flowers...

Bunches of daisy-like flowers…

Flowers in the shade...

Flowers in the shade…

Flowers in the sun...

Flowers in the sun…

Flowers that may be blue...or possibly purple...

Flowers that may be blue…or possibly purple…

Flowers in clusters...

Flowers in clusters…

Flowers along the walk...

Flowers along the walk…

...and flowers on shrubs.

…and flowers on shrubs.

Flowers, gardens, sunshine, love… it all matters so much more right now; an anchor, a life raft, a safety net…hope.  Ahead of me a new day, the possibility of real healing…the night is far away for now, and perhaps sleep will treat me gently tonight…or perhaps I will bring genocide to my demons*. 🙂

*note: I do not believe in literal demonic possession, for the sake of clarity, my ‘demons’ are a metaphor for ancient pain and damage, inappropriate coping mechanisms, out of date programming, poor habitual behaviors that do not support my values, and hurtful internal messaging… you get it, right? lol 😉