May. Almost overnight, trees naked since before Halloween sprout bright green leaves, flowers pop, and the sun’s rays are warm enough to pink exposed cheeks and noses. School-aged children smell the freedom that lurks just out of reach, but it’s not yet hotter than an August day in hell. Nor are there insects buzzing around my head in endless loops until I think my mom might have been right and my eyes are going to stay crossed for the rest of my natural life. FYI folks, the bug problem is not such a big deal in the Pacific Northwest. Seriously. If you want to escape the no-seeums, go northwest, my friends, go northwest.
Most people love this month. But for the third time since the crime, I had to take a deep breath before I was ready to flip the page on my calendar. May still has the power to trigger my symptoms. But it doesn’t have the same power it had last year, or the year before. At least, not yet – I’m reserving judgment – I still have a ways to go before I declare an all clear.
Today, I’m going to share what I’m still struggling with three years out. I’ve made a lot of progress since my life flipped upside down, but I do have some lingering issues – I don’t want anyone to think I’m all sunshine and roses. I maintain this level of functioning through hard work and patience. I pay attention to what I’m feeling, thinking, and doing every single day.
Every. Single. Day.
Maybe for the rest of my life. And I’m ok with that. After plunging into the deepest dark of the well and then bobbing back up to the surface, I don’t care so much that I’m all wet. I’m just thrilled that I’m no longer drowning. I can deal with the discomfort that comes from a less than desirable environment as long as I’m no longer being eaten alive by terror.
And I’m not – I no longer live in constant fear. Yay, me! But it reigned for a very long time. The repercussions might impact me forever. So what challenges am I still facing?
How much time do you have?
Maybe I’ll just aim for the short list.
My over-active startle response is wicked strong – even now. If my dogs bark when I’m not expecting it, I flinch. Like, a lot. If a co-worker pops into my office to leave something on my desk while I’m out refilling my water glass and they just happen to emerge as I walk up to my door, I jump – about 10 feet straight up in case you’re wondering. If my son approaches me while I’m drying my hair and doesn’t give fair (read LOUD) warning, I just about fall to the ground. Or if fun-loving Roman teens set off New Year’s Eve firecrackers as I’m walking down the same street, I start checking my surroundings for the nearest safe spot to hunker down and hide. I doubt I will ever stop checking my six to make sure my son and I are safe.
I don’t want to feel like the rabbit. I want to feel like the cougar – oh… wait… not the best metaphor for a 48-year old single mom… but you know what I mean.
A few weeks ago, I realized that the fear I experienced in the year following the crime re-calibrated my idle speed. I feel like I’m always a little revved and on edge. In fact, it’s difficult for me to dial it down enough to actually relax. I’m sure this is why getting enough sleep continues to be an issue.
When triggered, I often feel massive amounts of fatigue and a lack of motivation – normal activities seem completely and totally overwhelming. Some nights, I still have to convince myself to brush my teeth before crawling into bed. Some nights, I don’t even bother. I just crawl into bed and hope for the best.
I’m not sure how I will ever trust a man again. I don’t even know where to start. I guess when the time comes, I’ll simply treat it the same way I’ve treated the rest of these symptoms – working towards progress one small step at a time. I suspect that this one could take me a lifetime to accomplish. Can you blame me?
Sometimes I have trouble controlling the intrusive memories and thoughts that come knocking. During the day I do pretty well. I just push them out and slam the fucking door. But at night, they can still get in. Every once in a while they manage to get a good long ways in before I realize what’s happening. Then it takes some serious effort to shut them down. This can take more than an hour – especially if something else has triggered me that day, such as a date on the calendar, a news story, or any experience that makes me uneasy or uncomfortable. But, and I want to make this clear, I always find a way to evict them. I do not tolerate intruders. Hell. No.
What about avoidance behaviors? While I don’t avoid talking or thinking about my trauma, I do have a strong desire to be in control and am more concerned with my son’s whereabouts and safety than is probably healthy, both for him and for me. These are things that will require my attention and dedication well into the future – maybe forever. But I am a determined and rather stubborn sort of person. Eventually, I’m sure I’ll figure them out.
Talking about the crime and its aftermath is no longer the challenge that it was just months ago. Two weekends ago, I was able to talk about my PTSD and its cause over and over and over again without hesitation – even on the radio! I was able to help others who are struggling with their own traumas and their own symptoms – and it was amazing. I can’t wait to do it again. Although at the end of the interview, when the radio host asked me if I had a website, I totally balked. It was as if I couldn’t say it. I still have no idea what the hell that was about.
As the anniversary of the crime comes ever closer, I’m not overwhelmed by it like in prior years. But I am not yet confident that it will pass without a major response. The good news is that I feel like that year will come. Just not this year. In the meantime, I’m going to keep sharing my saga with anyone who will listen – with anyone who needs to know that they are not the only one dealing with symptoms like mine. This disorder makes you feel like you are all alone – as if you are the only one who has ever had such thoughts and feelings and done crazy-ass shit that isn’t like you at all.
To all of you who are struggling – I’m with you. There are a lot of us. And, as the three-year anniversary of the crime comes pounding on my door, that is what motivates me to expose my heart and soul to the world. It’s ok if you can’t share your story – or even if you don’t want to – I’ve got your back. You are not alone. You are not crazy.
And neither am I.
Today’s photos all come from a May 2015 walk I took by myself in New York’s Greenwich Village. It was amazing!
If you don’t know the significance of this last photo, it’s time for you to google the Stonewall Inn…
Your courage and determination to help others is incredible to behold. You are a life raft of hope to so many you will never know. Keep climbing toward the light dear one. You inspire all of us to do more. We love you with the depth of our being and feel so blessed that you are our dear daughter.
Thank you, Mom. I am thankful you always taught me to help others. Love you!
Glad time is slowly healing the wound. Another inspiring post and great photos 🤗
Thank you! I really am doing well. I was shocked when I sat down to catalogue my remaining symptoms – it still sounds like a lot. That should tell you just how massive they used to be…
Great post Karie!, As you stated in this post to the people who are not yet ready to share their stories or are unable to, you’re with them and you have their backs!
You have helped so many already.
Always know that we’re with you and C, and will always have your backs!
Thanks, Dad. Rest assured, we know you have our backs. We love you!