I’m supposed to tell the story every time it comes into my head, so here it goes: Once when I was visiting my sister, a man burst into the house in the middle of the night and robbed us at gunpoint. I’m supposed to tell the story over and over and over again because a few years after the robbery, I started having panic attacks. This is a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder, which happens when you don’t process your trauma in a healthy way. If you avoid thinking about the bad thing that happened, your brain keeps you on high alert all the time to try to protect you from the bad thing happening again.
What a remarkable, impactful essay. Your raw account of the Sisyphean task of living & reliving trauma is so courageous, so haunting, so informative. Thank you.
As I feel the panic rising in me with each repetition, I realize that I also “forgot” my experience with gun violence. I haven’t told the story in 30 years. Maybe I’ll start with my therapist tomorrow.
I’m so often grateful for your writing. I learn so much from you. Thank you.
This piece reminds me of something I wrote for my therapist to process PTSD after leaving an abusive relationship. I particularly appreciate the way the repetition is both therapeutic and an interesting way of dissecting all the ways we talk about violence and can tell our stories of living through it. Very powerful.
Oh oh oh. This is the most visceral retelling of the same different story I tell of the violent event I experienced at 22; you tell my story. My god. Mine came behind a garage door and I was afraid to open doors again for years. I lost the luxury of ignorance; let go and let god didn't work anymore. And you just told me why. Thank you for this. What a gorgeous mournful truth you've written, Aubrey. Thank you.
Wow. Aubrey, this essay is stunning. You have captured what it is to relive trauma again and again, to try to release its grip, to try to make it like a normal memory and not one that continually shows up in new ways. Thank you for writing this. ❤️❤️❤️
Yes there is nothing left of me or my life after my shooting. I will never live without the horror I endured. What is so difficult is how it is the constant consideration in every decision I make. Thank you so much for the understanding you presented. My answer from a health care provider was you are either alive or dead. It does provide you with choosing how to be alive. Living in the moment has given my life a greater meaning.
Wonderful essay. It reminds me of the scene in Kurosawa's "Throne of Blood" his retelling of MacBeth when the samurai is lost in the fog and keeps traversing the same area on horseback in search of the castle. Just when you're exhausted by the repeated movement it opens up to the castle that was right there all along and you're flooded with relief and satisfaction of attaining the lost place.
What a remarkable, impactful essay. Your raw account of the Sisyphean task of living & reliving trauma is so courageous, so haunting, so informative. Thank you.
As I feel the panic rising in me with each repetition, I realize that I also “forgot” my experience with gun violence. I haven’t told the story in 30 years. Maybe I’ll start with my therapist tomorrow.
I’m so often grateful for your writing. I learn so much from you. Thank you.
This piece reminds me of something I wrote for my therapist to process PTSD after leaving an abusive relationship. I particularly appreciate the way the repetition is both therapeutic and an interesting way of dissecting all the ways we talk about violence and can tell our stories of living through it. Very powerful.
It takes courage and willpower and strength to tell the story over and over. You are stronger than you know.
Oh oh oh. This is the most visceral retelling of the same different story I tell of the violent event I experienced at 22; you tell my story. My god. Mine came behind a garage door and I was afraid to open doors again for years. I lost the luxury of ignorance; let go and let god didn't work anymore. And you just told me why. Thank you for this. What a gorgeous mournful truth you've written, Aubrey. Thank you.
Wow. Aubrey, this essay is stunning. You have captured what it is to relive trauma again and again, to try to release its grip, to try to make it like a normal memory and not one that continually shows up in new ways. Thank you for writing this. ❤️❤️❤️
Yes there is nothing left of me or my life after my shooting. I will never live without the horror I endured. What is so difficult is how it is the constant consideration in every decision I make. Thank you so much for the understanding you presented. My answer from a health care provider was you are either alive or dead. It does provide you with choosing how to be alive. Living in the moment has given my life a greater meaning.
I don't want to use the word beautiful to describe this, but it is beautiful. It's horrible and terrible and teal and raw and beautiful. Thank you.
This was incredible, Aubrey. It will stay with me a long time. Maybe forever.
Wonderful essay. It reminds me of the scene in Kurosawa's "Throne of Blood" his retelling of MacBeth when the samurai is lost in the fog and keeps traversing the same area on horseback in search of the castle. Just when you're exhausted by the repeated movement it opens up to the castle that was right there all along and you're flooded with relief and satisfaction of attaining the lost place.
Beautiful, courageous, and heart-breaking. You did such a wonderful job showing the complexity of trauma.
Exceptional writing. It scared the shit out of me.