Mental Lockdown — This is Not a Drill
My flashbacks are not what you see in movies. I don’t hit the ground and start screaming. I can function to a degree. You might never know I am having strings of thoughts strain through my brain sending a fear throughout my body that almost paralyzes me.
It started last Thursday. It is Wednesday now. This house is two stories and not unusually large but big to me. There are a lot of walls and closets in our home, a 1960s statement on needing to wall up all of the chaos that was going on then. I wonder if they helped. The walls do not bar off the thoughts that have been running through my head and body since last Wednesday.
It all started after I received a recorded call from my son’s high school, where he is a freshman, saying they had a “lockdown” at school. The message stated that the “lockdown” was not a real one but a “practice” in order to rehearse should a real one be necessary. My son came home after school and acted very unimpressed by the lockdown. A few hours later he proceeded to have a full on anxiety attack, insisting it had nothing to do with the “lockdown”. He said that it did not scare him at all, that he was not fearful when the alarms went off.
I know differently.
I am acutely aware that my oldest son spent the first 10 years of his life living with me, a person who had been held captive, was tortured and then went into hiding for twenty years in order to avoid being murdered. My son grew up with a mother who checked every room, door, closet, bed, bathroom, yard and back seat of every car before making an entrance in order to declare that we were safe. It was not unwarranted. There was a real threat. My son knew nothing about my experience until much later in his life, after I was safe. I am sure my actions, subtle as I tried to make them, had an impact on him. His anxiety retreated quickly. Mine, which I did not know would appear after that call from the school, did not.
Every day since that lockdown I have had flashbacks. This is one of the symptoms of the post-traumatic stress syndrome that I had for many years. It lifted after my perpetrator passed, almost completely — until that lockdown. My flashbacks are not what you see in movies. I don’t hit the ground and start screaming. I can function to a degree. You might never know I am having strings of thoughts strain through my brain sending a fear throughout my body that almost paralyzes me. You would never be able to tell that I am having a momentary flash of the dismemberment of my body. You would not know that I was gripping my gut to avoid yelling out. You might just see that I was suddenly quiet and very focused. And all the while I am experiencing a mental battleground trying to decipher what is real and what is not.
Today I tried to take a normal shower. I tried to relax and enjoy the hot water like other people do. Within a minute, I feel a panic, a dread that someone is in the house and they will be in the bathroom shortly. I flash that they will murder me and that my husband will find me when he gets back home. This thought plows through my head. I throw it off. It appears again and again. The fear insists, and I open the curtain so I can see out in order to know no one is waiting for me. The thoughts take control, and I hurry to finish my shower. I hear a clank. I stop in my tracks and the flash of my murder runs though me again. This time I have a flash that a man is coming into the house. I walk quietly to the room, where I hear two men talking. I listen hard and look to the window. I hear the men. They are next door in the back yard. Two men working, going about their day. I tell myself I am safe. And I am safe. And I am tired of fear. I am tired of feeling like I am going to die today. I am exhausted from fearing torture and death. And I am sad for people like me who have been victims of torture.
I wonder if I will always have flashbacks. More importantly, I wonder if my oldest son will ever know what it is like to feel unafraid when the unexpected happens? I wonder if he will overcome the effects of being raised by a mother with post-traumatic stress syndrome.
I write this hoping it will help this episode lift. Maybe my body will understand this if I write it down. I write. I write. I write.
3 Responses to “Mental Lockdown”
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Sing, KATHRYN, SING, write and sing. You know your gift of song is in you to heal from this ….write and sing, and feel my hugs today.
Thanks for sharing this brilliantly written account. It really brings the reader into your world.
I hope that the act of writing is helping your body to understand that it is safe. Singing seems like a great idea too!
All best wishes,
Sarah
A good therapist who is trained in Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) which is a technique used in psychotherapy to combat pervasive anxiety that occurs a result of past trauma. It is frequently used and has been found effective for treating PTSD. You do not have to continue being tortured. Peace to you.