Trauma triggers are real. They are like unexpected trapdoors in the brain-they open up out of nowhere causing you to fall into a dark space grasping for something to take hold of to work your way back to the light. Yesterday something as simple as the weather resurrected trauma back to life and a trapdoor opened underneath my feet.
11 years ago today, at this very moment, while still in robe, my house was slowly beginning to flood with people who wanted to help or simply sit in the presence of others who were mourning the same loss. Today marks the 11thanniversary of my husband’s tragic, instant death. While some years can pass without a trigger response, others do not.
When I opened the kitchen door yesterday morning to let the dogs outside, a trapdoor simultaneously opened. I’ve never liked Mississippi in the month of February, and then when Michael died in this month, it sealed the deal. The weather is always awful. Ice storms, brown grass, rain, humidity, overcast more than sunny. The weather yesterday was exactly like it was the morning I was informed of Michael’s death. Overcast, muggy, heavy, suffocating. The front door of my house seemed as if it stayed open as people flowed in and out. I remember looking out the front bay window and seeing people walk through my yard to get to the front door because they had to park far away for all the cars in the street. I can still see the solid grey overcast sky, the brown grass…I feel the weather.
When the kitchen door opened yesterday, the heavy humid air entered my lungs like a ten-pound weight and my body transported itself to the early morning hours of February 22, 2011- my entire being went numb, as it did that day. Suffocating weather. My brain walked through the last time we saw him, his smile, the hugs, the “have a great day”, the “good night I love you” on the phone, and all the other “last” nuances. Trauma causes all kinds of physical symptoms in the body. For me, I felt as if I was in soundproof room with glass walls while everyone else was busy moving and talking on the other side of the glass. Ears ringing, lungs barely breathing, weight pressing in from all sides.
Once the trapdoor opened, and I realized I was falling, falling, falling,...into the abyss without sight of a bottom in the darkness, I sent an SOS text to a few friends to pray. By simply doing the next thing and then the next thing, I was able to get ready for work and out the door. But I was treading water in the dark just below the surface. Sharing my internal weather with my coworkers helped. I wanted them to know that despite the fact that I was moving through all the necessary tasks, this was the undercurrent in my brain. By late afternoon, I found my way back up and my feet were on solid ground again.
The different triggers have decreased over the years but I’m still continually surprised when they pop open in the most unexpected places. One trigger that took me forever to overcome was the scent of a candle from Anthropologie. Their signature scent candle sat on the mantle above the fireplace in my kitchen in February 2011, burning every day as people came in and out, hovering quietly throughout the spaces in my house. It took me years to be able to walk into Anthropologie without feeling nauseous or as if the same elephant from the day he died was back sitting on my chest. I no longer like the scent but it also no longer triggers me.
Today I’m good. No triggers. It’s still overcast outside, but I hear birds chirping outside as I type. The trap doors are fewer than they once were and the dark holes below them are not as deep. Today I’m thankful for the healing that has taken place.
I honor Michael’s life, his love, and his light today.
