Triggers and Trauma

Slick has decided to become part of the decor.

Today I endured a stressful event.

Now, be forewarned - this event really wasn't that big of a deal. More of a nuisance than anything.

I had an appointment with my neurologist today in Omaha for Botox shots for my migraines. He has two offices, and since I missed my appointment last week at the office I usually go to, I had to go to the other one in the heart of Omaha. 

I whipped into the parking lot about 10 minutes before my appointment, congratulating myself for managing to get myself out of the house and down Interstate 80 in good time. But when the elevator door dinged open and I walked into the office, a sign sat on an empty desk. The office had moved, and the sign gave me an address: 133rd and Dodge.

Well. I do not live in Omaha. I am not familiar with the city at all, and when I looked up my neurologist's name on the mighty Google, it had the old address. To add insult to injury, when I called them, they had a new phone number. So here I am, trying to call the new phone number while also trying to figure out how to get to this mysterious 133rd and Dodge address. 

Long story short...I finally made it to the new office 30 minutes late and my amazing neurologist was still able to give me my Botox injections.

But I did not handle the situation well at all. I completely lost it. I drove like a maniac, swearing and yelling, my body growing hot and sweaty with stress and tension and anger.

After I made it home and the adrenaline rush began to face, I realized that this was not the first time I've completely lost it over something that really isn't that big of a deal.

Do you know why?

Because of my marriage.

Because for 18 years, I prided myself on handling stress like a pro. And there was STRESS, my friends. SO MUCH STRESS. (Yes, I realize I'm using all CAPS but believe me, the stress...dear god, the stress.) For 18 years with my husband, I endured police visits, outbursts of crazy, bizarre behavior (chasing after cars who cut us off was normal for him), frequent firings (he was fired 3 times, I think?) and so, so many other things. 

I handled the stress well because I had to handle it well. I had to be the sane one, the calm one, to keep my children safe, to keep myself safe, to keep the household running, to keep paying the bills. So I didn't come unglued when the next event came around the bend because I was used to it - and because I couldn't lose my crap. There had to be at least one adult who kept it together.

After the divorce, I worked through a lot of these issues. I realized I'd been stuck in the trauma bond and the cycle of abuse,  and also learned why I reacted the way I did.

What I didn't understand then, though, was how my brain would interpret stressful situations after I did all that healing and work. After I learned more about my chronic illness diagnoses and how my brain was stuck in the fight or flight mode, it all began to make sense. 

 Now, little things will set me off when they wouldn't even faze me before. My brain is trying to figure out what the appropriate response is for stressful situations, and it is over-compensating because it is free to do so. 

Unfortunately, having that rush of adrenaline after these outbursts leaves me shaky and exhausted. When I came home tonight, I just wanted to sit on my recliner and do nothing. This is part of how my body developed these illnesses in the first place! So, the next step is to learn how to deal with stress in a healthy manner that will not cause harm to me emotionally or physically.

It is disappointing to realize that after I went through 18 years of stress, then another five of learning, healing, and processing, that the trauma has not left. I am still dealing with the aftereffects of my marriage. 

It is what it is. 

Our work is never done. We must constantly evolve, change, grow, and learn.