The acupuncturist’s words left her mouth in slow motion. I felt like I could watch them hang over my head as my disbelief grew.
“Nobody is ever a victim!” she exclaimed. “There’s always that small voice that you don’t listen to or clues that you choose to ignore.” She paused, finishing with, “Nobody is *ever* a victim!”
I sat on the edge of the table, my back bare and the straps of my bra falling from my shoulders. I had been telling her about my background with trauma and post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in context of recent challenges. I felt at war with my emotions, particularly anger, and was hoping for help from her to deal with them on a physical level. Hence, the acupuncture.
I felt vulnerable, exposed, with needles sticking out of my skin and along my spine. My PTSD is a result of childhood sexual abuse and related trauma, all of which had happened *to* me. I didn’t have clues that I ignored.
I felt blamed. Immediately and thoroughly. Which happens to be one of my PTSD triggers.
She soon left the room to allow me to rest with the needles in different parts of my body. I cried – big, wracking sobs that eventually calmed into rivers of tears. I spoke as little as possible until I could get out of there.
Dealing with the Unexpected Trigger
I left the appointment feeling prickly, as if she had left needles in different parts of my body that had access to my emotions. I was confused and unsure of what I had heard. So I did what anyone would do in the situation – I put it on Facebook.
It struck a nerve, garnering more than 30 comments from various friends of mine. Many of the comments were thought-provoking:
“It makes me wonder what happened in her life that she still blames herself for.”
“I’m glad somebody felt safe enough to tell you what was on their mind. That is a gift you have.”
“Regardless of how anyone got into a situation, if they are abused then they are a victim.”
“This might be one of the most literal forms of victim blaming I’ve ever come across.”
And my favorite one: “Did you punch her in the throat and ask if she saw that clue coming or picked up on the sign??? Oh my GOSH! Amazed you or anyone had self control in that situation. I applaud you for being the better person and walking away from ignorance.”
Victim blaming is a largely accepted form of prejudice, but it surprised me to come face to face with it in this setting. We had discussed PTSD during my previous appointments, and she seemed to accept my diagnosis. I had made the assumption, however, that a professional in this branch of health care would be accepting. In this instance, I was wrong.
Even though I knew that I never wanted to see her again, I asked myself, “Should I go back?”
Avoid Avoidable Suffering
Aside from “shoulding” all over myself, I knew that the answer to this question was a resounding “NO.” I got more validation at my next PTSD group. The topic was – just guess – dealing with unexpected and expected triggers.
The best way to avoid avoidable suffering is to say this over and over again: Do Not Test the Trigger.
When I have an unexpected trigger, there’s a part of me that feels as if I have failed in some way. That if I were stronger or “better,” then it would not have happened. I want to grab the bull by the horns and prove that I can go back and endure.
This is dumb. I have a hardcore legit brain disorder. This is not a self-esteem issue.
Do Not Test the Trigger. Would you party with an alcoholic in a bar? No. Why? Because alcohol is a trigger that does not need to be tested.
Would I party with this acupuncturist? No. Because seeing her would probably be a trigger. I don’t need to test it. Plus, I don’t want to hang out with her. At all.
Searching for Hope and Inspiration? Check Out Caskets From Costco
A Funny and Poignant Grief Book
For twenty years, I thought that I had been marching through the stages of grief in a straight line. I had been following the formula, crossing each processed grief experience off my list.
Except that I was totally deluded. And I didn’t discover that until Jim, my beloved father-in-law, died. I found myself drying off from my shower the morning after his death, really hoping he couldn’t see me naked. Or, if he could, that he was averting his eyes.
From that moment, my path through grief resembled a roller coaster, spiraling and twisting and turning, circling back around. Echoes of past trauma, including childhood abuse and cheating death, would no longer be ignored. I somehow needed to get from the beginning to the end of this grief adventure, and I don’t have a good sense of direction.
But what is always present during a journey through grief, regardless of the path chosen?
Hope.
Caskets From Costco is a funny grief book that demonstrates the certainty of hope and healing in an uncertain and painful world.
dSavannah says
The scary thing is you never know what will be a trigger.
Obviously, being told that is a big trigger. I would have punched her. Probably.
Kelly Wilson says
I know. There’s some stuff that I can totally plan for. Other times, it’s out of nowhere. I have had to make a running list of triggers.