Creating A Safe Prison

Friday, November 29, 2013

I woke up early this morning to prepare myself to do something I was really hoping I would not have to do. I went to the place I have called a home these last eight months and retrieved some of my personal belongings. I called for a police escort to wait outside to ensure that nothing happened which I could not deal with. I no longer trust my landlord nor one of the organizations he sits on as a member of their Board of Directors. I do not know what will happen in these coming two weeks but I am not looking forward to it. Even the best potential outcome is still going to be stressful for me at a time when I am already under a lot of stress.

I did not feel safe throughout large stretches of my childhood.  I imagine that much is clear to those who regularly follow my blog.  Current events are reopening these very old wounds. Even though I am in treatment for PTSD (which developed as a result of childhood trauma) and improving I am concerned about what current events are doing to my ability to continue to heal. I am thus documenting what I am experiencing so that friends know how I am doing.

Shortly after I nearly lost my father to the horror of murder I would ritually go around the house and double and triple check that all the locks in the house were engaged and functional. It was an obsessive and ritual behavior that I utilized as a means of working through some of my anxiety. It gave me some degree of comfort. I was that traumatized by the violence that nearly claimed my father's life and that fearful that something more would happen to harm me or him. I feel that same fear I felt all those years ago. And I feel so sad that old wounds can stand so large in their power so many years later.

I may be a grown man but there are days (like today) in which I feel the burdensome legacy of all the trauma I experienced as a child and had no ability to escape. I pray for the best possible outcome today. 

It's strange to think back on the nine year old I was and realize how so many days when I would venture out into the world I was feeling such a tremendous amount of anxiety that I would be harmed...deliberately or otherwise. It's strange to think that the ordinary life I was living each day felt virtually heroic. Isn't that the definition of a hero...namely someone who lives his life with courage despite whatever fear he is feeling? But here is the rub...in my view nine year old boys should not be required to be heroes...nine year old boys should be able to be nine year old boys.  I didn't have a sufficiently carefree atmosphere in my home to be able to be a normal nine year old boy.

I feel this immense sadness today as I sit in the first few hours after recalling this house security ritual I methodically and obsessively performed as a child.  I was attempted to create a safe prison.  As I recall the feelings of immense anxiety I felt so much of the time I feel this immense amount of grief for the burden I was under throughout much of my childhood.

The good news is that my awareness of how the past influenced me is continuing to deepen.  And as my awareness sharpens I expect I will be able to continue to improve my self-care skills.  I will also be able to continue to heal and move forward.  So it appears I am on the right path even though the present moment is very painful indeed.