Sam Alexandra Rose

Writer, researcher, music lover, cancer survivor with CMMRD ("double" Lynch syndrome)

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Triggers (comment on a reblog from Tumblr

cityofheavenlydevices:

the-angry-walnut-fairy:

owlsofstarlight:

owlsofstarlight:

In case anyone wants some perspective on how utterly random triggers can be. I haven’t lived in a house with a garage door in four-ish years. Right now at this moment, I honestly can’t recall what they sound like, except something metallic moving and rather clanky.

There was one on tv. I wasn’t even paying attention to it, I had my headphones on and was actively trying to tune the show out. My ears picked up on the sound of the garage door, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through my body as I grabbed my laptop and moved to get out of my seat and run to my room.

I realized what happened after about two seconds.

The sound is gone from my ears, but my heart is still racing and I’m waiting for the door to the house to open, to hear the jingling of my mother’s keys and her footsteps moving through the house. My muscles are still tense and I’m fighting the urge to run to my room and stick a board in front of the door.

For years, the sound of a garage door was my warning to pack up what I was doing quickly and retreat to my room if I was out of it.

I can’t remember the sound of the garage door right now, but I can’t tell my brain to stop trying to react to it.

This can be reblogged, if anyone was wondering. I wrote up this post with the intention that hopefully people who read it and didn’t really get triggers would understand a bit.

Another thing: my sister was watching a tv show, and an actor with the same voice pitch as my dad’s came onscreen. I heard the voice and froze, choking on my own breath while mentally checking everything on my phone and in my room, making sure that none of my possessions were going to be taken because I had done something “wrong.” My dad was on a business trip in India.

Literally I once almost cried walking into my job at a craft store because they had orange streamers out. It reminded me of Halloween and that holiday has traumatic associations for me. Crying over a streamer seems completely silly without context, but you never really know what it may make another person think about.

I almost burst into tears at work one morning because someone was eating toast and the smell reminded me of being in hospital, where they would always come around and ask us what we wanted for breakfast and we’d have toast. Mine was with strawberry jam. I can’t stomach the thought of strawberry jam now just thinkng about it, but the toast smell trigger doesn’t make much sense because I have eaten it at home plenty of times since being in hospital. Maybe it’s just because it was in a public/unexpected place.

But yes, I have gotten upset over toast. And also the beeping sound a printer was making because it sounded like hospital machinery. I so wanted to go over there and smash the thing to make it stop.

Walk in the Park

I had a dream we were going for a walk in the park
because that is what he enjoyed doing.
I don’t know if that is really true.
He might have hated walking. 

They wanted me to come on the walk.
Mother, my niece, my nephews.
The kids saw it as a nice trip out.
Everyone easy-going.
I was not part of any of their experiences,
caught somewhere between being a
sibling and a stranger.
He mattered too much and not enough.
Here and not.
Known and not.
Mine and not. 

I didn’t want to go on the walk,
or be with any of them
so while they got ready
I stood in the kitchen for ages
leaning on the countertop,
eyes glazed over, my blank stares
making the refrigerator feel uncomfortable.
Mother just laughed at me and asked
why I stood there for so long.

I feel the same way about people liking me and wanting to spend time with me as I do about people speaking in Swedish: I accept it, I love it, but I don’t really understand it.

Stockholm Weather Report

The weather in Stockholm is so changeable
I can’t rely on anything here so
I must change too
I don’t even speak half the language.
The city centre rain waits until I reach
my room before it pours out its
promises
It brightens as it dries, brightens
after it has tried,
brightens after it has made a difference.
Meanwhile I sit conflicted;
happy to have travelled but looking
forward to home
happy to share experiences but
hungry for being alone with the
work I long to do.

I keep forgetting where we are not and
remembering where we are.
I hear words that suggest people see
worth in spending time with me
But I can’t see why they would.
I don’t know what they get out of this.
I don’t know what anyone gets out of me.
I think I just forgot.
Self-doubt is so unattractive
but in my lifetime I must have changed
from what I promised
like the Stockholm weather forecast.
Changed without noticing, changed from
what I thought I was and now
I don’t know what I am.

One day soon I will try something that
is just for me, and I will succeed,
and from then on that is all I will
ever need to do.
And on that day I will be powerful and
I will be found, never to be lost again.

Are Labels Helpful?

This week I am thinking about the labels we put on ourselves, the labels other people put on us, and the labels we want. Partly because today is PTSD Awareness Day, and partly because a colleague is celebrating a different diagnosis that has given him relief and closure.

Continue reading

this is not getting over it

I can’t let go because it isn’t over
I can’t let go of something that is
determined to stick around.
and if it has formed part of my identity
that is nothing to be ashamed of
that is nothing to be concerned about
that is nothing to be fixed or talked out of
that is nothing I should try to change.

this is cemented now
this has driven me demented long
enough now
enough now with the moving on
it moves with me
enough now with staying strong or
breaking down
whatever I will be, I will be

I will not let this go because
this will not let go of me

Title inspired by “This Is Getting Over You” by Alkaline Trio.

My mantra today is “hey, at least I wrote something.”

Forgo

my mouth forgoes feelings
so I can feel everything else
the roof of my mouth goes numb
so I can envelop myself
in self-medication
a vacation
for the senses,
a sensible
meditation,
a softening
of the edges.

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