“Guilt reflects and then leaves the rest to me. It started with a flash of light. A fist’s grip was loosened just a bit. There’s a constant slip out of the positive. Grace and hope I’m sure are on the way. It ended with a twist of fate. Hearts are breaking just a bit. So you killed more precious lives then you had let live. All the fear and all the cares of the world never forced themselves into my arms. It was your fear that helped me. Your fear that got me to move. Straight from your heart into their sight. For shame on you. Who cares about me anyway? It’d mean so much if you’d just save me. Save me.”
“No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.”
— Haruki Murakami
Several weeks ago, I had the privilege to interview a close friend and fellow trauma survivor. She is my twisted sister and heterolifemate. She helps keep me sane and she listens to me on the days when I’ve lost all sanity. She’s always there supporting me through whatever mess I’ve gotten myself into or whatever mess is going on in my head! And believe me it’s a mess over here! She is an incredibly talented writer, wonderful cook, exceedingly smart student, an amazing Mother to my favorite boy, a very hip lady style-wise, and a wonderful friend. As a survivor of domestic violence and sexual abuse, she has worked with a local foundation “People Against Rape” spreading hope and awareness to other survivors. Kristin shares her life with us on her blog “Fate Always Loses Hold”, where you’ll see bits of writing, book reviews, songs to live and die by, and of course updates on her life and my absolutely brilliant Godson Jude! If you want to meet a really groovy chick, she’s the epitome of groovy sipping coffee, wearing one of her librarian sweaters, reading classic literature, and catching up on all her BBC shows! I urge you to go check out her blog! In the meantime, read the interview I conducted with her below and please leave rad comments!
1. How old were you when you first experienced trauma?
I was 18. I experienced both spousal rape and domestic violence. The trauma lasted for five months.
2. Has your trauma changed you as a person?
Yes it has. It’s given me serious trust issues. For a long time it made me feel worthless and broken. I felt like the trauma had taken something from me that I couldn’t get back and that it would always define me. I thought I would never live a normal life. Though I still struggle with the trust issues, I have managed to let go of the feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness. It changed my views of love and relationships. I’ll never take anyone at their word again. Instead of believing someone when they say they love or care about me, I watch their actions instead. My views on what constitute a healthy relationship have also shifted, which I consider to be a positive change. I’m less trusting and it takes me a long time to open up to someone.
3. Has your trauma changed your views of the world and humanity?
In some ways, yes. But I’ve always known that humanity is kind of a mixed bag. I think if anything it’s expanded my views of what really constitutes evil. I used to think the things that made someone a bad person were obvious. But I’ve learned that it can be subtle and covered up under the guise of love and devotion.
4. Have you sought out therapy to deal with your trauma?
Yes I have. But I waited quite a while to start. I’d been struggling with symptoms I didn’t understand for at least two years before I finally entered therapy.
5. Were you diagnosed with post-traumatic stress? What were your feelings upon being diagnosed?
Yes I was diagnosed when I first entered therapy. I found an amazing therapist. When she first asked me why I was seeking treatment, I told her that I had been raped and physically abused by the man I married. She was the first person who called it rape and told me that it wasn’t my fault. A part of me felt relieved because there was an explanation for why I was struggling so much. Not just with the flashbacks and nightmares, but in every aspect of my life.
6. How has your disorder affected your life and personal relationships?
I pushed people out of my life constantly. I didn’t let anyone get too close. I didn’t share my trauma with friends or family. I waited for friends and boyfriends to mess up so I would have and excuse to end the relationship and blame them. I refused to be vulnerable, talk about my feelings, or trust others. It was nearly impossible to have any kind of relationship. There were a few friends that stuck through it with me despite it all. And when I started therapy and started to deal with my trauma, it only brought us closer.
7. What symptoms of post-traumatic stress have you presented with?
Nearly all of them. Flashback memories, recurring nightmares, reliving the traumatic event, avoidance of behaviors, places, or people that reminded me of the trauma, inability to recall parts of the trauma, decreased involvement in significant life activities, decreased capacity to feel certain feelings, expectation that one’s future will be somehow constrained in ways not normal to other people, difficult falling and staying asleep, problems concentrating, hyper-vigilance, irritability, angry outbursts, impairment in social relations and occupational activities. I also experienced dissociative symptoms. Depersonalization- watching oneself act, while having no control over a situation. I especially experienced depersonalization in social activities and in romantic situations.
8. What symptoms have been the most difficult to overcome?
I think the feelings of hopelessness about the future, difficulty maintaining social relationships, difficulty with school and work, the sleep issues, and the trouble concentrating were hardest for me to get over. The flashbacks and nightmares were awful but they only lasted for so long. The other symptoms were constant. I felt like I had a concrete block on strapped to my chest all the time. The PTSD was such a heavy weight. It took away my ability to hope, dream, trust, and love.
9. Have you gotten to a place where your disorder no longer affects you? Do you believe such a place exists?
Not completely. Just last year I had a panic attack while out on a date with a very nice person. We’re not dating anymore but we are friends. He’s a genuinely good person that I do trust, but for some reason I just didn’t feel safe around him. In the middle of a movie date with him I started to have a panic attack. Recently my boyfriend and I got in to a fight (I call it a fight but really it was more like a civil discussion) about our sex life. I was feeling really overwhelmed and scared. My gut reaction was to just bail out of the relationship and never talk to him. Because having a conversation about sex and my PTSD was that scary. But I opened up to him anyway and it actually helped our relationship. He confided some insecurities and concerns he was struggling with and was supportive of my needs and concerns too. A year ago, I would not have talked things through with him. I would have just bolted. I think you can develop better coping skills. I think you can learn to suppress the false beliefs that PTSD puts in your head (the ones that tell you no one will love you, no one wants to deal with your trauma, everyone will leave you eventually, etc.). But do I think there’s some magical place where you never have another nightmare, never have another flashback, never relive the trauma, never jump when someone sneaks up on you? No, I don’t. But I think PTSD can become manageable. I think you can get to a point where it doesn’t define you or how you live your life.
10. What would you most like to say to others struggling with trauma and/or post-traumatic stress disorder?
I feel as though I’m drowning. I always feel as though I’m drowning. I’ve been trying to do more of what I love. I’ve been acting and doing photography. It has been serving as distraction more than anything else. I can’t make myself happy anymore. I’m not sure I was ever really able to make myself happy, actually. It was more that I could use other things to make me happy. I drink to feel happy. I smoke to ease my anxiety, stress, nerves. I once felt happy by luring in men, receiving attention, having sex and convincing myself it was love. I’ve just always wanted so desperately to feel loved. I know there are those who love me. I have friends who love me. It is just so hard to believe that people love me. I feel so worthless all the time. Nothing fills this void. I just don’t know what to do to with this gaping hole in my chest. My Mother doesn’t love me or can’t love me or can’t love anyone. She rarely speaks to me and when she does her words slice into me. She has broken me in such a way, I don’t know how to put myself together. I feel as though I am a waste of life. Would that I could take my time and give it to someone who deserves it, someone who wouldn’t waste it suffering, drowning. I can’t disappear as I once could. I was so angry for so very long and I got comfortable there. I hid in my anger. Now that I’ve let it go I don’t know what to do. I just feel sad all the time. I don’t feel like moving or waking up or doing anything. I just want to live and die in my bed. I don’t want to put on clothing or brush my teeth or look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to go outside. I don’t want to see people. On the best of days, I still have thoughts of ending it all. I imagine what it would be like to drive my car off the bridge. I can so clearly see my car going over the edge, crashing into the ocean, teetering for a moment, then sinking beneath the surface. Water begins rushing into the car, the pressure against the doors too much to open them, windows won’t roll down. Would I be terrified, sobbing, regretting my decision, or would I accept my death? When my Mother tried to kill me, I fought back. She sat on top of me, pinning me to the floor. I screamed. I clawed and scratched until she’d pinned my arms down as well. I was trapped. I couldn’t move. Her weight on me was too much. I remember the floor, hard and cold, the way my head and shoulders ached from being slammed against the tile. She pressed her shin hard against my throat. I choked out the words “can’t breathe”, upon which she laughed and said, “Good. Die bitch.” I continued to struggle, trying to free myself. There came a moment, when I couldn’t fight anymore. I was so dizzy. I was blacking out. In that moment I knew I was going to die. I lay there. I accepted my fate. When my Father suddenly burst in and pulled her off of me, I rolled upon my side choking in the air. My eyes readjusted to the scene as I watched her lunge back towards me and saw my Father grabbing her from behind, forcing her into a chokehold to keep her off of me. I just don’t understand. I can’t understand. The logical part of me understands that she is mentally unstable and needs to be hospitalized. The rest of me just can’t square with the fact that she actually tried to kill me. She pinned me down, sat upon my chest, leg against my windpipe, and as I struggled to breathe she told me to die. My head understands that she has issues, but my heart can’t understand what could move a Mother to want to kill her child. I’m not enough. I’m never enough. No matter what I do I’m crushed by the weight of her disapproval. She can’t love me. It hurts. It all hurts. I have flashbacks everyday. Every goddamned day I walk down the stairs into my kitchen where it happened. Everyday I walk down there and I see and feel everything I felt then. I walk into the big house and I have flashbacks from childhood. Every corner of this place is haunted by memories. My head hurts and my heart hurts and I just want to die. I just want to set the place on fire and watch it burn. I want to burn with it. I am broken. I need to be hospitalized as a result of what has been done to me. I want to be positive and happy again. I want to be sunny. I need to get help.