This poem is one of several that are related to the subject of flashbacks. I wrote this one a couple of years ago. At the time, the battle with flashbacks was a lot more difficult than it is now. I didn't know how to ground, so it was a lot easier to get thrown into a full blown, reacting flashback. The after math of flashbacks are still difficult because all of the feelings I felt, then, remain for a while. A lot of the times, I don't feel safe afterwards. I'm more on edge. More jumpy. More watchful.
During the time that I wrote this poem, and even still, I got a lot of questions from people. Questions like, "How long has it been since you went through ______" or "What happened" made me feel less than. The first question, made it seem that the person asking was saying I should be over it by now. I mean, let's face it, at that time, it had been seven years since I escaped the trafficking circles and fresh out of an abusive relationship. If we were talking childhood abuse, I'm not sure where the line of child is drawn, but if we are going by the age of eighteen it had been ten years. That question made me fell like I was doing something wrong or I wasn't trying hard enough.
The second question was a dangerous one to answer. As I said, I didn't know any grounding techniques. In other words, I didn't know how to keep myself in the present and not get thrown back into the past. I had never spoken about the trauma and when I tried, I was forced back into thinking that I was there and not here. Now, this is a question that I can answer, and depending on how much I'm grounded, I can relay some details. I know when stop and what information I can give, at any given moment. My main concern, when this question is asked, is: "does this person really know what they are asking?" and "Is this something they are ready to know?" I realize that the answer to my questions really lies in the answer to theirs. I have to trust that the person asking will let me know when it is too much for them. This is difficult, because I am a protector. That's what I do.
My favorite of all, which isn't really a question, is when I am having an anxiety or panic attack and someone tells me to "just breathe". First, this angers me because if I felt like I was able to breathe, I wouldn't be in that situation. The second thought that comes to my mind is just laughing, but at the time I can't because my brain and my body thinks that I'm dying.
This poem "Questions" was the rant that goes off in my brain when "just breathe" is spoken because if I explained why I couldn't, then there would be more questions needing answers. When I am panicking, or having a flashback, I need something else to focus on besides whatever it is that is going on in my head. So, asking, "What happened, then?" while I'm in a flashback is not helpful. However, letting me know where I am, pointing things out in the room (the green couch or if you look at the windows you can see the dog's nose prints) and letting me know that I am safe and no one is going to hurt me is very helpful. Another thing, is talking about something unrelated to anything. Food, isn't usually a trigger. I like to cook and bake so food is usually a safe subject. Or, talk about animals. Ask me about my dog. Tell me silly story about your pet or any animal encounter that doesn't end tragically.
Today, I can answer questions. I couldn't then. I am not always able to go into details. There are some people, who I don't trust enough with even the simplest answers. When you ask questions, please, just respect if they are not at a place where they cannot answer you and don't push it. You may want to help but saying it all out loud, makes it real. There is power in words. Also, be careful to help them understand that you aren't judging them for their struggles. They survived some tough stuff that you may or may not know about. They already feel broken and weak. Help them feel strong and let them know that you are there for them, if they ever need someone to listen.
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