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Triggered By Sounds


Triggered By SoundsSo I’m sitting here today minding my own business and enjoying a peaceful house. All of a sudden, I hear this gawd-awful sound outside that breaks up my peacefulness and serene world. I finally notice that it is my neighbor that lives behind me cutting shrubs and bushes down with a chainsaw. It is the revving noise of a chainsaw that breaks my concentration and floods my mind.

I get up from the chair eager to escape the sound, just wanting it to stop. I’m getting angry at every second that passes by, and then the noise quiets. I’m like, thank God! The idiot shut up! I once again sit down in my chair next to the peaceful place by the pool. All at once, the revving noise of the chainsaw returns.

Now I’m getting furious! How dare this person run a chainsaw and disturb me in the daytime? How dare they pick the exact moment where I just want to relax, and interrupt my life? How dare they? What is wrong with them? I’m more furious now as I ponder these things. My anger grows.

I run upstairs to escape this gawd-awful noise. I can’t take it any longer. I want to flee from it and have nothing to do with it. It won’t leave me. It won’t silence itself. It won’t quit! Please make it stop, I beg in my thoughts. Please silence it. Please make it go away. My anger grows by the minute.

As I’m sitting upstairs, I put my headphones on and play some comforting and relaxing music on my iPod. I drown the sounds out as best as I can, finally getting a chance to catch my breath. Finally, I think to myself, I don’t have to listen to the idiot and his chainsaw. I can live in peace. After all, how dare some idiot think that he can just interrupt my life at any moment of the day?

It suddenly dawns on me that my partner is not experiencing the same rage and frustration with this sound. He is concentrating and working on his projects as if nothing is going on. I’m furious with how he can do this. Doesn’t this bother everyone? Isn’t everyone as angry as I am? Why do they not want it to stop as badly as I do?

Then, I realized – I know that sound. I’ve felt that sound before. That sound of a chainsaw, when I was a little kid, and we would go out to cut wood for what seemed like an eternity in the snow and cold. It was a time when my little fingers would get cold from my snow covered gloves, and my boots that had holes in them would allow the snow to seep in and melt, keeping my toes chilled to the bone. It was a time when I would hear my father’s controlling scream, demanding we do this or that in his moments of rage.

I can remember all the times when I knew we would be going to cut wood, and in the pit of my stomach, I felt nauseated and was aching to leave the world. My mom rarely came with us, and she was my protector when I was around the monster. I felt all alone, frightened, and was so badly wishing that I did not have to go out to these remote places and cut wood with him and my brother. I did not want to go. I could not stop it or complain. I had to take it like a man, even though I was a little boy.

The sound of that chainsaw is the same sound that I hear in the thump of a stereo, the sound of a loud and controlling voice. It is the sound that paralyzes me with fear. It is the sound that I hate like no other. It makes me rage against everything human.

That is the sound. All these years, I have not pieced this trigger together but that is the sound.  I know it without a doubt.  I want to say hallelujah, but what is this for me to celebrate? So whoop I figured it out. Now I see the ugliness behind it. Now I see just how much I wanted to flee from it. What a thing to connect. Sometimes I hate life and all that it has given to me.

There, I said it. I connected with it. My mind rejoices, but my body feels like a screwed up mess. I sit here wondering if this nightmare will ever end. Will I ever be able to function like a normal human? I sit here wondering, just how much more I have to endure for some purpose I cannot fully see? There has to be a reason, right? There has to be!

In the cold days in the woods where my father thought it was playtime, I longed to be warm at home next to my animals. I did not want to be a part of this cold snow-filled world.   I still remember the ache in my stomach every time I knew it was time to go cut wood. Sometimes the monsters are in the woods, and sometimes the monsters come to the woods.

Even through these moments of anger, frustration, and remembrance of my triggers, I realize that somewhere deep down, it is my journey calling me forward. It doesn’t make it any easier, just more promising that there is a road that continues.  I realize that this is a big trigger for me and even though it is difficult, the identification of it becomes a major battle won in my life.  I push forward, knowing that I can conquer this trigger like all the others before it.

 


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