My bedroom in my home is an addition to the rest of the house. Built on later before I purchased therefore not heated the same as the rest. We supplement the heat with a little electric fireplace. Even with the fireplace the bedroom as well as bathroom addition are noticeably colder than the rest of the home. For me it’s simply freezing.
Having four blankets on my side of the bed keeps me content and warm. Snug as a bug to be honest and I sleep very well. Except when I get triggered. Last Night was one of those nights. The blankets pulled up to my chin and took me right back.
I was back in my parent’s shower curled up into the bottom corner. My Aunt had picked me up homeless and returned to me to my parents. They had just revealed they would keep me. However my brain would not believe them. So at just 15 I am in the bottom of the shower prepping myself for homelessness again.
Yea, you heard right prepping. How do you prep to be homeless one might ask. Well if your 15 alone and confused to all hell you may take a large towel into the shower. Making a cape of it. Hiding under the towel while turning the water from as hot as I could stand to as cold as I could. Thinking I was prepping for the elements of outdoors again.
When that blanket touched my shoulder before bed last night I was instantly in the bottom of that shower again. Tears flowing and body shaking. Never believing my home would be mine for long. I was right. Homelessness would find me again later in life.
Many other weird strange things I did when coming back from decatur to prep for what I knew was coming. Often going without food thinking I was conditioning my body to be ready for it. If only someone had gotten me the help I needed then. Begging cps most of my life for it never got me anywhere. It was like I slipped through the cracks in every way.
Seeing now that my mental state has always been this state of survival. Doing whatever I may have felt necessary to survive the life I was dealt. Previously my thinking lead me to believe I have beat that survival cycle. I’m not sure though. As yesterday when part of my income collapsed and I had no way to gain my half of the mortgage. It was natural for me to hustle, sell, flip whatever I had to make the money. Never speaking a word of it. Just surviving through what was dealt and moving on. Within hours I had figured out what I needed.
Trying to train my brain to see that these triggers are reminders of what I survived made me who I am. A survivor. Maybe I can’t break out of that cycle. Always being self dependant and quiet when in need. It’s just who I became I guess.
Parted with all of my keychain and straw topper molds yesterday. Some of my favorite crafts just let go for my family. If I told Marc what I had done to stay on top of what I promised him 3 years ago. That I could hold down my own half no worries. I would have put a weight of guilt on him. He would have thought of the 1000 he put into the stock market ( he has been not doing well with stocks since starting) that morning while I sold my things again to make ends meet. He would have felt like he let me down or didn’t provide. Giving my word on his bed that day when he told me he was concerned about my income and my share of the weight that what I thought of yesterday morning.
That kicked me straight into that survival mode it never even crossed my mind to say anything to Marc. It was my burden to bare alone. My word broken. My income messed up. Seems like its me who puts it all on me when I can’t get out of that survival. Replaying that conversation that is old and sincerely wouldn’t apply now on that bed is silly. However that’s what happened.
That trigger taking me back to the shower and prepping for homeless. I did that same with money all the time. Hiding my money in the ceiling of my basement bedroom. Pretending that I didn’t have any when I had a stack. So I would have to figure it out and prepare for it. Once even skipping a night out with the four of hearts (my best friend group at the time) because I had put up my money and wanted to figure it out and failed to do so. I wanted to show me what it would be like when I failed. When there was only me to count on and I let myself down. At 15 years old I am punishing myself for failing to survive.
One thought on “Another Trigger”
You are quite an interesting writer,you could write a real book and maybe never have to worry about money again!