Some of mine are pretty woo woo out there:

The “pantyhose” I have to wear right now. Actually, it’s just a full-leg compression sock, because I had vein surgery two weeks ago. But, it freaks me out every time I put it on or off, because it reminds me of the pantyhose old pervert dad wore when I was a kid. I have to wear it until next week. Then, I have surgery on the other leg in a few weeks, so another 2 weeks of triggers.

Time of day and light/sky conditions. Evenings are the worst for me, especially if there is a bright full moon. Takes me right back to last year, when I walked around all night, leaving at dusk most evenings. I walked so much that I had to have my right heel surgically repaired, and both of my feet were one enormous bleeding blister. One day, the day I decided, after about 3 weeks of this, that I had to seek medical care for it, I came home from work and wrung the bloody fluid out of my right sock, the left wasn’t far behind. So, when the light and sky are right, I’m right back to 2012 in my mind.

Dates. Anniversary Dates. This is probably pretty common, we all have bad memories of certain dates. September 10th is coming in a few days – last year, I had to go to downtown Detroit in the afternoon for my job, after I finished what I had to do at the Court, I walked around downtown, taking pictures and crying. Because I thought it was my last day of freedom, my last day as anything more than “just a psych patient,” my last day as a free and equal member of society, the last day I would probably have a career, the last day people wouldn’t know I was a psych patient. I had to report to the day hospital the next morning at 8:30 AM. And, it was really rough. I took a ton of pictures of Downtown sights and of Windsor, Ontario across the river. I briefly fantasized about running to Canada and seeking asylum, but that was fear, the Royal Canadian Mounties probably would have scooped me up and put me in an asylum for sure. WORST of all, I had an appointment for an eye exam and glasses that night when I got back. I scheduled one for tomorrow, and, guess what, they called and wanted to know if I could reschedule for Tuesday the 10th. Yikes!

The word “trigger” is a bit of a trigger, since so much of my saga past involved the concept of death by firearms.