Vulnerability and Trigger Warnings

Trigger warning: abuse is mildly mentioned, please proceed with care.

This month’s theme is, “my heart is open, expressions of vulnerability,” and to be frank, until recently, being vulnerable has never been one of my strong suits. I grew up in an incredibly toxic and abusive house, and from that, I thought that it was healthier to be heavily guarded and hidden behind miles of walls.

I never let anyone in.

No one saw me for who I was.

I wouldn’t admit to who I was.

That I was scared.

Dying for an escape.

Constantly.

The first person to see me for who I was, was the first person to not let me run away from her. He was the first time I felt safe. The first person I knew would always care.

And it was horrifying.

But no one ever told me how horrifying it would be to face her again.

How, when I face her, it would feel natural to go back to her. To become her again. To shed the person I’ve become, for the person I was for years.

I wish I had gotten a warning on how triggers are the things of nightmares. How they can make everything feel hollow. How they make you want to put those walls back up and never admit to your fears and run away from everything that hurts you and scares you and to never be vulnerable again. How they are all-consuming, how they can become the only thing you think about and how they can take over everything about you.

I believe that there is a strength to being kind and open and vulnerable in a world that seems cruel and harsh.

Most times, I feel that strength.

Right now, facing the impending doom of my biggest trigger, I don’t feel that strength.

I can feel the old me welcoming me back.

I want to cry and run away, as far as my legs will take me, back to the arms my safety net. But I can’t do that. So, I want to hide, I want to come up with every excuse to not participate and I want to stay in bed. I want to tell everyone to avoid where my abuser will be because I want them to be safe and no one should be near him. But, I’d be a dick to ruin everyone’s fun. But, he ruined my favorite holiday.

I just find it ironic that I was never abused in Chapel Hill, yet Chapel Hill is where I feel the most scared and unsafe.

With all these resources around me, I’m still flinching at the sight of every white pickup truck, orange traffic cone, and tall, fair-skinned bald guy weighing over 300 pounds with a goatee.

I wonder if I hate Chapel Hill because I don’t know how to move in safety here, or if I hate it because it makes me question if the safety I feel with myself is real and true.

I have no advice to give for this. I’m still learning how to face everything I am scared of. And, I don’t know if I’m doing good or not. All I know so far is that writing it out helped. I don’t know when I’ll stop being so scared though.