[MotownJohnny]

THIS COULD BE REALLY TRIGGERING, ESPECIALLY TWOARDS THE END. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

I got really triggered last night and lost it, not so much a fearful memory but a very sad one. I was doing my workout with my PT. They have an area outside behind the club set up for their boot camp program, and we go out there as much as possible, it's just the two of us, a lot nicer than inside where it's always crowded at night. So, I was kind of struggling last night to get through this thing because I still have a pretty bad cold, fever, and I could tell I was pretty weak. Towards the end, I was really struggling to do vertical rows with 35lb-ers, and I had to drop them and quit mid-set. So, I sat down and grabbed my water, and said something like "sorry I'm so weak". My PT looks at me and says something to the effect of " you're not weak, you're awesome. You're one of the strongest guys I know, you always give me 100% no matter what. And, you're my favorite client because of that, I have clients who ***** and moan that it's too hard, they won't push and then they wonder why they don't see results. You never complain, so stop being so hard on yourself."

So, really nice compliment. Genuine, sincerely, heartfelt.

What do I do? - I start crying.

It was triggering on three levels. The biggest thing, which got me going, was the immediate thought that came into my mind: "Where in the F*** where you when I was 7?" Because for whatever reason, I flashed back to one of my single most painful memories, which is ironic based on what it is, because this hurt me more, still festers more as a psychological wound, than all of the memories of the violent moments growing up where he was threatening us. When I was 7, 2nd grade, when spring came and baseball season started, it was "the" thing at school on the playground during recess. Pretty much all of the boys had mitts and balls, and would throw and catch, etc. I guess probably quite a few were in Little League or something. Anyway, I desperately wanted to do that, and I remember kind of pleading to get mitt and ball. So, I came home from school this one afternoon, kind of hazy milky blue white sky with cirrus clouds and weak sunshine, kind of coolish, like maybe 60, early spring, like say mid-April, I remember there were a lot of crocus blooming. My mom gives me a real mitt and a softball. I was thrilled. So, I remember fooling around with it a little while. i got home from school a little after 4. He always got home from work about 5:30. when he got home, dinner had to be ready right at 6:00. So, at dinner I guess i got brave, I asked him to teach me how to throw and catch. After dinner, I always had to clear the table and help by drying dishes, and I was really excited. He was weird, like always, irritable, distant.

So, I kind of whined and pleaded, and my mother kind of ordered him - it was weird, he wanted to control everything of significance, but he would do trivial things if she pushed it - and he did it. Got up, we went out in the back yard, I had my glove and the ball, I threw it to him, poorly, he chased it and threw it back, I of course didn't catch it, I got it, pitched it back, he threw it back to me, turned around, didn't say a word, and went back into the house. And pulled the bedroom curtains. And I just stood there and probably moped a while, fooled around with the ball. When I went in, I knew exactly what I would find, Freakshow sitting on the sofa staring into space with his bra, panties, silk stockings, garter belts, and silky negligée/robe thingy. A very well-padded bra I should add, he liked the Dolly Parton/Pamela Anderson look.

So, that was the total extent of being taught the game of baseball. Not that I'm bitter about it or anything (yeah, not much).

I started crying because I desperately needed a real father in my life, someone like my PT who would have told me how great I could be with effort and time, not this Freudian nightmare who constantly ran me down, called me names like the "f" word, told me I was garbage and would never amount to anything. First trigger, lack of a real father figure. Second trigger, being complimented as opposed to being run down and berated.

REALLY TRIGGERING - THE BAD PART, VIOLENT IMAGERY

Third trigger was internal. Of course I can't take compliments. How could I be strong or awesome or his favorite client? Because I am the scum of the earth, worse than any rapist or murderer or pedophile, and what they really should do is take me down to the bottom of that steep hill behind the club and put a bullet through my brain because I don't deserve to live I'm such a vile stain on humanity. Like one of those scenes they show on news or documentaries about how they execute the condemned in China, hands tied behind the back, blindfolded, kneeling, and the uniformed executioner puts a pistol to the back of the guy's head, fires, and the guy goes down.

I don't know what my crime is, I feel like I'm an innocent man, a good guy, but in my mind I know what my punishment should be. Which kind of scares me, I have always thought on some level I would ultimately snap and take myself out. I still feel that way, in fact, at some point I just won't be able to take the pain any more and I'll do it. That scares me. And, I literally came seconds away from it last year at my low point. And it's always a gun, I never think about something clean like Carbon monoxide, gotta be a gun. The only time I thought of another method was a while last year when the concept of driving into concrete or a big tree at 90 mph was appealing.

And I SO DON'T WANT THAT. Hence the psychiatrists and therapist and Prozac and various doctors and trainers and dietician and posting on Internet support sites and new wardrobe and cycling and running and so on and so forth.

God give me strength to get past this.

[JaneC]

I am sorry this happened for you Johnny, today...and what happened in your past. I hope you see your T soon so you can work through this trigger and response with her/him.

I hate the sudden and unexpected things that get to us. I do hope you keep yorself safe and spend soem time on self care and self soothing. you are worth it and you can gt through this and find a level of wellness that is satisfying for you.

I am glad you are here posting, it makes it easier for me to know I am not alone....so thankyou for being here Johnny.

[MotownJohnny]

Thank, Jane. Today is T day, I always look forward to that. She's really good, helps a lot.

[Open Eyes]

(((MowtownJohnny)),

It is very good that you are "talking" about these triggers and even the times where you feel anger at yourself and have "bad thoughts". I can relate to this right down to the gun being what you see as your method, me too and I do not even know how to or have ever even fired a gun. However, my husband kept a loaded one in the night stand next to our bed, even though I talked about shooting myself. How invalidating is that?

I do know these "deep anger moments" too, but you have to remember, like all the other things that come forward in a wave and then slowly recede so does this "deep dark anger too". I had to learn that myself, and I learned about it here from a vet and it actually probably saved my life.

I didn't talk about "my problems and triggers so much here at PC at the time though".
I could not seem to do it, I didn't want to some how experience the "silence and invalidation" that I had in my past. I didn't want to have someone "not believe me" somehow or accuse me of "needing attention" and "acting" either. I could be so strong for "others here" but I could not put down my "own problems and challenges". I felt that if I did that, people would not understand me, be afraid to say anything to me and not offer advice or comfort. That is how I was treated by family and even my husband often, they would rather I be strong and "solve their problems or set a pace to be productive and outgoing". It wasn't even "just" my family, I was dying and the EMT didn't believe me and yelled at me for moaning, the pain was "unreal", but "Shut up" was my answer. Even after I went through life saving surgery and it was not known if I would "survive", no one wanted to say anything to that EMT that was so mean to me.

It certainly was not any of my "family" that saved my life, it was a vet that I met here and talked to in PM's. I didn't know my T at that time "well enough" to even tell him how bad my thoughts were. I didn't know whether it would get so bad that I would need that gun so I didn't "make sure it was removed from the night stand". What the vet said to me changed all that and I finally told my T how bad it was and he called my husband in for a meeting and "finally" things began to slowly change where I was taken "seriously".

I know where you are from what you are saying MTJ and I know it is a very "difficult" phase of the healing in PTSD, but this stage will slowly "ease up" you need to be patient. These "angry feelings about yourself" will come forward from time to time, but never "act" on them, they come forward but they also go away and some days are difficult. This period will subside so be very "patient" with yourself.

What triggered you today is something you need to mourn, that is why you also wanted to "cry", you need to mourn what that child in you experienced, and it is "sad" and it was not fair to you as a child.

I am sure you "are" dedicated to working out and are driven more than others. I am sure your PT was genuine in his compliment. Yes, you are right, that kind of presence should have been there for you when you were a child.

I have experienced many days where I was alone and just cried and cried, then my husband comes home and I want to go hide because I don't know how to explain to him how difficult my day was and that is why I didn't do things around the house and just needed to sit and cry on my bed. I didn't want to see "negative body language" from him or hear any kind of "just" comments that would tell how alone I am with the experience of PTSD. It is every bit having a lot of pain and needing to express it and not wanting to hear someone say, "shut up".

You will get past this stage, you need a lot of validation and people around you that "know to comfort you" and "validate you". I am glad you found PC as one of your sources to gain much needed validation and comfort.

(((More Caring and Comforting and Supportive Hugs)))
OE

[MotownJohnny]

I've only handled a gun twice in my life. Once years ago, I was about 10, he took me to a shooting range and had me fire one, once. Of course, I did it all wrong, it didn't suit him, so first and last time.

Then, there was last year on the pier. Another story. It's gone. Good riddance.

[JaneC]

Guns are not for me any longer.A few years ago with my first husband, he took me to learn to skeet shoot with a shotgun. It was exhilirating at the time because I seemed to ahve great eye hand coordination and whooped all the mens butts on my first try. Quite a fluke really.

Fast forward a few years...and after the same husband threatened to shoot me with the same shotgun.......I kinda have an aversion to the things now. (just thinking about that has made my chest tighten and breathing go a bit funny, yikes!)

[MotownJohnny]

Sorry, I know it's a touchy subject. I hate them, too, he had probably 50 or more, plus a lot of big hunting knives. After he died, they were parceled out to sisters and BIL's who all hunt. Except, irony, one, his 0.22 pistol. My mother wouldn't give it away because they all wanted it and she thought it would create hurt feelings. I never understood why she would even want it in the house - I always thought it was way more complicated than that, her reason seemed disingenuous, but I never pushed it.

I can't begin to believe how irresponsible that act was of me, I could have been in a really bad position if I had been seen by anyone, I could have faced felony charges and my career would have been over. Of course, I also could have offed myself, but looking back, it was desperation, not desire or intent, so I'm glad I managed to pull up survival instinct at the last minute. I guess they will all be surprised some day when they discover it's not in the locked metal box buried high on a closet shelf in the spare bedroom. C'est la vie, the local pd took it for surrender and melted it down. Just told them the truth, it was my father's and had sat in a closet for 15 years and I just wanted it gone.

I only associate them with death, it was the only reason I could handle it. Never again.

[JaneC]

Oh, no, I am sorry Johnny there was no need to apologise. In my poor way I was trying to show empathy and understanding around your dislike of guns.