Let me be clear. Before Jesse and Bella died, I cried at Disney movies. Now, it’s at a new level. I keep trying. I really do. I keep thinking, maybe, maybe this time it won’t be as intense. If I stop trying, then I stop living. And we can’t have that, can we?
The thing is, after one experiences a trauma like I have, your perspective changes about pretty much everything. Things that were solid beliefs, are no longer. Things you would never consider, are part of your daily life. Your world turns upside down and inside out. Things I have never been easy going about, I now am. Things I used to be easy going about, not so much now. One constant though, is that I cry at Disney movies, just a smidge more now.
Sometimes I forget. Or perhaps it is denial. Sometimes I just want to go to a movie and not have a triggering moment or twenty. Sometimes I just want to be “normal.” I know that possibility no longer exists. May 8, 2014 fixed that.
Last week was hard. A week and a half ago, there were two teenage girls, one black, one muslim and wearing a hijab who were being harassed by a very sick man yelling profanities and racial remarks on the MAX (our train) at them. Three brave men stood up to him, all three stabbed, two died. This rocked our community, including me. I have time and time again, and especially after this election have taught my daughter to stand up to bullies, and this happens. I myself have told people to calm down on the train. Where my thoughts went after, having experienced what I have, I go to the young women who witnessed this and think of the PTSD they have experienced, and the movie reels that will run over and over in their head. I think of the family of one of the men, I think of the wife finding out and then having to tell the children that their dad died. I think of the mom of one of the young men who died, and her broken heart of losing her child. I think of the young man who lived, and his PTSD. It goes on and on. This is why I have such a hard time with the news, I just don’t read an article and move on, my whole being reacts. I thought I was “ok” ish by the time I got to work on Wednesday, but my body was on overdrive, a constant fight or flight mode. Then the thoughts of Bells started flooding my mind (her birthday is in a couple of weeks, so, there is that). I was a wreck. Destructive thoughts I have not had in a really long time started to edge into my mind. It took everything to battle them. I curled in on myself a bit for a few days, which I recognize is not the smartest thing to do, it’s my I don’t want to bother anyone, I am sick of this broken record, etc. Thursday, I was useless with a list a mile long. Luckily it was a Dougy Center day, and I swore I was not going to talk in my group, but then emotionally vomited, which is good, it is the right place for it. I went home a smidge better, but still off. Friday, I needed to force myself to get to my to do list, and went to Costco. On the way home I almost had a panic attack. No apparent trigger. So I went to work on my accounting for work. I was way behind on my Quickbooks, and that usually engages my brain to stop its nonsense. Nope. The PTSD around Bella was much like the wave we all know about that knocks you off your feet. The movie that played in my mind was unbearable. I almost cancelled my plans with my friend that evening, but I didn’t and that was a good thing. There are a few people in my life who know the details of what happened that night. I am sorry they do, but am glad, because when I show up on their doorstep and say, I am a mess, I am sorry, and then cry, I know I am in a safe place. It helped immensely. Driving home I could breathe again. Saturday was a bit lighter, until the new fucking Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast.
Again, I always cry at these stupid movies, now though, the why is different. Spoiler alert. When the Beast is shot and killed at the end, and Belle is crying over him saying please don’t go, I love you, then the weird magical being whips the rose back into action and the Beast transforms back into life and human form, well, that did it. I know the story. It’s not like it is a new thing to my brain. But where I go, is when I was over Bella’s body saying no, please stay, please be alive. Oh, and Maribella’s middle name is Rose. We joked after and said Disney must hire psychologists in the writing of these movies to pull at our heart strings. I did not get that magical being bringing her back to life. It’s not fair. No amount of love could bring her back to me.
It is not just this movie. It can be any movie or TV show. Or life. Our experiences change us, every time one happens, the vision upon which we view the world shifts. Our muscle memory responds and react in different ways to that environment. How many times have you smelled something that brings you directly back to your childhood in an instant. These can be good or bad. I already was an empathic person before all this happened and was extremely affected by things both positive and negative. Now, I have this experience that colors everything.
I refuse to give up trying to do things. Even if that means I may cry, or have PTSD, or have anxiety. I also may have joy. And those moments of joy are so worth the effort. When they happen, I swear all the cells in my body do a happy dance. So, I will quote a colleague in this advocacy work, whom I have the utmost respect and admiration for, Kevin Hines, I will #KeepOnKeepinOn, #HopeHelpsHeal
