Skip to content

My studio, my home, my safe place.

September 30, 2010

I live in a kick ass studio in the heart of Downtown Denver. The city has a pulse. When I walk home from the convenience store a few blocks over I feel its beat in my chest and it makes me feel alive. Its that feeling of being alone in a crowded room. There are thousands of opportunities swirling around me, and I could take them if I wanted, or I could just sit where I am and do what I want. Living in the city makes me feel in control of my life. My studio is small but it’s mine. I love where I live.. what I don’t love? Feeling afraid where I live for the first time since I moved in.

In previous posts, I have written about my panic attacks and how debilitating they can feel sometimes. What has been amazing about my new place is that it has really helped facilitate growth, I haven’t had as many anxiety and panic issues since moving in. But my panic isn’t always under my control. Sometimes, things just happen and I trigger. I’ve been having issues with the guy who lives in the complex under me. Our last interaction he came and rattled my door while “the girl who thought to bring me a hubcap” and I were actually hanging my hubcaps. He didn’t stick around, but instead called the cops who showed up at my door an hour later. However, this last Tuesday, when Gordon was over, we accidentally knocked down a piece of cast iron on the floor. I made some joke about being quiet or we’d get the cops called on us. Within minutes he was up here rattling my door as hard as he could again. Gordon opens the door and a verbal assault immediately ensues. The guy is standing there with Gordon looming over him, cursing at him and making exaggerated claims. It seemed like the confrontation was trailing off and when Gordon went to close my front door, the guy kicked it in and started it back up again. When things were over and Gordon was able to get the door shut again, he turned and saw me frozen in the hallway, very much afraid. But as he came to comfort me, I had to stop and ask for the door to have all it’s locks locked. I was shaking and I could barely speak, I wanted to cry. Gordon tried talking to me, trying to bring my energy back down, but all I could manage to say was, “See- I’m not faking it. My panic attacks are real… they’re real.”

I’ve been in a lull since it happened. What has gotten me down isn’t what actually happened, that part is being dealt with, it’s the fact that I hadn’t been in that kind of mental place in months. I have felt so frustrated and disappointed. It was this big, huge reminder that I’m still a broken little girl. I will probably always have situations and events that will trigger my “fight or flight” type fear responses. There will always be certain pitches to peoples voices that makes my heart race, certain interactions that make my hands shake and my vocabulary go numb. Gordon says that I was conditioned as a child to look for the fear in everyday situation. It was a defense mechanism to survive the emotional abuse, bracing myself for the onslaught.

I just want someone to hold me tight and tell me everything is okay. I just want someone to run their fingers though my hair and tell me they love me and that they won’t ever let anyone hurt me. The little girl in me wants my white knight to come to my rescue. I know it’s my job to fix my problems, I know it’s my job to fight the good fight… I just… I want someone to hold my hand while I do it. Every time I sit down, when the tears start to well up, and I just don’t feel like getting up again… to tell me I’ve done well and kiss me on the forehead and hold me tight until I’m ready to get to my feet again. I know that the way my latest run in with my neighbor made me feel was pretty tame compared to previous triggers, but it was definitely a reminder that they’re still present. That I’m still a survivor of an emotionally abusive childhood, no matter how much personal growth I’ve managed. I’m always going to have a scared little girl inside, so perhaps I need to make sure that those closest to me know that.. sometimes I just need them to grab hold of me and make sure I don’t go anywhere.

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: