Freeze, Fight or Flight

March 8, 2023

It has been years since this has happened to me, this waking up at 3:00 in the morning with a story already written in my mind which has to be done right away so as not to lose any of the precious information. Not since lockdown in Ecuador to be precise. 

A serious issue arose in my apartment which really kick started the process of allowing understanding to flow, hence my 3am story. There is a store space below my apartment with a garage attached at the back. During the winter a man has been for the last 2 winter seasons, kept his bobcat stored. For some reason, I have discovered since the space below became vacant just over a year ago, any smell trapped in that space comes directly upstairs into my apartment where it then gets trapped in my apartment, and depending on how strong the smell is, can take hours or days to remove. If the source of the smell is removed rather quickly from below, I can then get rid of the problem fairly quickly in my home. However if, like this particular instance, because it is not properly ventilated, my space becomes inhabitable.  The man storing the bobcat was trying unsuccessfully to get it started in order to move it out of storage. For hours while I was at work, he had been working on it with the garage door closed, which trapped the the gas and oil or whatever means he was using to accomplish this in the building. Those fumes began filling my apartment in my absence, so that when I arrived home I could smell the problem as soon as I entered the porch. My whole apartment reeked of these fumes which immediately put me in “fight or flight” knowing the severe health problems I would likely have if I stayed inside my home for any length of time. The worst case scenario would be cardiac arrest or anaphylaxis due to the toxic chemicals which an empath has little tolerance for. 

I sent a quick message to the landlord rather than going downstairs because first of all, I did not realize what the problem was. Second, I assumed this had to do with whatever the new tenant renting the store space, was having done because to me it smelled like some kind of adhesive. In any case when in “fight or flight” reason and logic disappear and escape becomes the only thing of importance. I went to the only person I felt any kind of safety with, – the landlord. Then I had to go outside leaving my door open despite the bitter cold. When the landlord arrived almost 2 hours later and after going first to the garage where they would enter the building, they discovered the problem. They had the mechanic open the garage door, which allowed the fumes to escape, thereby aiding my attempts to remove them from my apartment. By the time they came to see me, still sitting outside on my steps with nowhere to go, there was not much smell left. This made me feel foolish, because it seemed I had exaggerated the problem. Whether they felt this, I don’t know, but it was what I felt and this worked on my mind long after they left. 

The mechanic was unable to get the bobcat started, so it remains in the garage. Once the door was closed down there, it took only a short time for the fumes to fill my space once more. This meant I had to leave my outside door open for ventilation in order to breathe. I hoped after a few hours, I could close my door, the fumes lessening over time, like the paint had done weeks earlier. But paint dries, the smell disappearing when that happens. This is not at all the same situation which meant I had to have door open all night and morning until I left for work. Coming home yesterday having the same problem greet me. This is quite serious because with my door open, it does not take long for the -15 degree temperature to be felt in my home. There was no place for me to find comfort and being unable to sleep or eat during the last 24 hours, I sunk into depression feeling trapped once more by circumstances not of my making.  

The crazy thing is, I am moving out of this beloved apartment because of the many issues which began with the arrival of the new tenant. She is like a bad penny, trouble arrived with her, the solution in my landlords mind was to buy me a house to move into. First I have to leave my job because of a stalker, then my home because of an intrusive tenant which left me wondering about the fairness of such situations. But this is the important aspect of my story and why I am writing it in the wee hours of the morning. This rather difficult problem has hidden inside it a real gem which was discovered through the process of trying to understand the “why” of it all. Feeling once more as though I’m being funnelled into a choice I did not wish to make, I am reminded of the “knowing” felt which began  last summer, I would be making a big change by moving. This was something I ignored because it was not something I wanted to do. So situations arose to guide me over the months to make the choice necessary for the next stage of growth. The following story to me indicates how looking forward often means not seeing the clear path we wish to find. Looking back however, allows us to watch the stepping stones light up as we notice decisions made leading from one place to the next. This was the image I saw in my mind as this story was written this morning, leaving me with a beautiful sense of satisfaction to see it so clearly. Seeing this process in relation to the story of my past is easily transferred to the present and future was the gift received. Just trust! 

With thanks to my friend who rescued me from another sleepless night with the door wide open in the freezing cold, I was given a deep understanding connected to the childhood trauma. She brought over 3 diffusers, one of which runs for up to 48 hours misting out pure essential oil. The purification oil began replacing the fumes allowing me to close the door and begin warming up. We had tea and talked about this situation, the new knowledge I would not be moving on Friday as I had hoped due to finance issues ending the proposed property purchase by my landlord. This led to us knowing there is always a reason whether we like or understand it. The big question we mused on as we walked around the block before going back inside to make sure the fumes were really not noticeable, was – what is the lesson here? It has been an emotionally difficult few days, so I was happy to go to bed and let sleep take me, surprised though at waking so early despite my fatigue. Like so many of my stories, this is how they come to be, almost completely written while sleeping, the words bursting out of me in need of being transcribed. I have felt over the years, this is due to conversations held during my Dreamtime with my father or sometimes the Grandmothers. I say this because they remind me of moments in time which relate to the present situation, the story, as I say, almost writing itself. 

This morning the memory which was prevalent happened when Lucas was just a baby. The kids and I were invited to a birthday party with a friend down the street. She was having her sons party at the bowling alley, so the kids were really excited. We were the only guests if memory serves me right, our children best friends. 

I’m not sure what sparked the argument between myself and Patrick, but whatever it was he went into a rage and began to beat me. This story is important because it explains how my mind dealt with trauma of this kind. Thinking of any scene from Toy Story where the toys are all running around in their adventure, but when the human opens the door, they all just drop wherever they are. Like rag dolls they land silently to the floor as if they had never moved at all. I can’t explain how I did this, but as if a switch is thrown, I become a rag doll. I just fell, but twisted as I did so, on the bed escaping into my mind while Patrick hit me, not feeling anything at the time. Only when he left and I felt safe enough to come back to reality, did I understand the consequences of his actions. 

It was time to get ready for the party with the bruises on my arms, a black eye forming and a very sore back from falling. I had not yet recovered from the birth of Lucas, the injuries were quite severe and I did not have the money to keep going to physio in order to correct the spinal damage, so was already in quite a bit of pain all the time. What Patrick had just done only exacerbated the issues. It became his habit to not speak to me for days, sometimes weeks, retreating to his man cave, surfacing only to eat the meals prepared for him. Many times he also slept in his private room, leaving me to my worried thoughts, uncertainty always looming with the idea he would just one day abandon me. It can be a very long painful process to break someone’s spirit! So without saying anything to me he decided not to attend the party for obvious reasons, so I was left to manage the kids on my own, trying to be joyous for the sake of the them. It was difficult to lift the car seat and buckle them all in, but we soldiered on, the kids hopefully oblivious to what happened to me. Although somewhere in their hearts they would have realized as children do. 

The next day (there is small justice here) Patrick had to call in sick because I could not get out of bed. The migraine was so severe I could not move without serious pain. I knew it was the result of the beating, the back injuries I had been dealing with had caused many migraines, although nothing as severe as this one. Patrick took the kids to school, then called someone he worked with who had recently spoke to him about a very good chiropractor which he hoped could help me now. Then he called his mom to babysit once the kids got home from school so we could go to the scheduled appointment. 

This chiropractor was a gem, I have to say. He was the first person since the physio therapist who listened with interest to what I was going through, took X-rays and actually looked at them, showing me what was causing the problem. I had hope for the first time since getting pregnant with Lucas, there was a solution for the ongoing pain. There is a whole story written on this in my book “Finding Home”, so I do not wish to write more about it here. But what I can see clearly, and I hope others will also, is how there are stepping stones in every situation which lead us to the next move. Looking back is the way we can start to see how our decisions, choices and actions have led us from one stone to the next. This is the purpose for sharing my stories, to hopefully help others understand the complicated journey of a trauma victim, the decisions made and why it can be easy to stay in a troubled relationship rather than escape from it. 

There are several connections this morning just from this one story which help me understand my position today. First of all Patrick’s own childhood trauma made him into a complicated individual, a story he would have to write in order for us to understand why he had to take his frustrations out on me in such a violent way. Second, my joy at receiving such rehabilitating services which I could afford trumped my shame and fear of what Patrick did. My focus became about this opportunity to heal rather than my abusive relationship. This was an indication of how the rest our life together would go, a very twisted path, both rewarding and debilitating, so there was not really a simple solution. We can always assume or even just wonder if a different path would have made our lives better, but I maintain the lessons needed in order to grow spiritually will find us no matter which path we decide to take. 

This leads me to the beautiful discovery about this situation this morning. I have decided through this experience to add another category to “fight or flight” which is freeze. I believe after going through my experience of sitting on the step in the freezing cold, I was neither in fight or flight, but I was frozen. I was back in ”the room” waiting in silence for Papa to rescue me. All I needed was to have the comfort of knowing someone was there for me. The only thought in my mind was – I don’t know how to fix this. I apologized to my landlord for not being able to think of going downstairs rather than asking him to tell me what was wrong. But going downstairs was not a safe solution for me, so not one I could think of. This made me feel ashamed of what happens to me, something I cannot stop, correct or do better the next time at. All I can do is ride it out and hope for understanding on the other side. I just wanted to go back to the days when I remained hidden, not having to deal with the public if I didn’t want to. But this is not possible, and although our world is too focused on success to allow for people like me who must deal with trauma, the time needed to come back, there are indeed those who do allow us the time grace to find our way back. Gratitude must be given for those beautiful souls who although they may not understand, do have the patience to accept the situation. This does not make it easier, for me at least, to deal with the shame of knowing someone else sees my weakest side, but it is reassuring. Although not very comfortable to realize how vulnerable I can be, something I wish no one else ever had to know, there is understanding the triggers are many and not controllable.  My reasons for sharing these stories is an attempt to help others understand decisions and behaviour are often tied to reasons we cannot see or understand. Kindness in such moments of duress makes so much difference, one cannot imagine. 

In many ways I am still seeing the world in the simple terms, as only a child can. I prefer to look at things from this viewpoint – it is far more acceptable to me. As a child, the reason I went into the protected space of my mind was because I was forced to see and feel experiences of the adult world, something I was clearly not ready for – no child should ever be witness to or experience the desires of an adult mind. It is my belief most adults would have difficulty accepting what I was forced to endure as a child. 

Children see things in the forgotten way of adults. Responsibility forces adults to leave childhood behind, with responsibilities creating pressure as we learn to stand on our own. As children we long for the day we can make our own choices. As adults we often wish we could go back to a life of less choice and responsibility. If we’re lucky our children remind us of simpler, more carefree times. For me it was a strange mix as I loved sharing  my children’s  experiences, but was haunted by my past, so was fearful, making me unnaturally protective.

If it is my child self which is mostly dominant by my choice, can I be taken seriously? Are others attracted to this aspect of my character, yet unable to accept my view of the world because they have grown past that ability to see with child wonder? Having the ideals of a child projected through the body of an adult probably makes me seem very naive, although I am anything but. Our adult self, the aspect of myself I rarely allow up front and centre, seems to need complications and I often wonder why this is. The movie “Big” comes to mind – his child self so attractive, yet so difficult to understand in the cut throat world of the adult playground. As he slowly adapts his personality to “fit in”, his best friend can no longer tolerate being around him. The magic of youth as we discover our capabilities, our strengths and weaknesses, our sense of honour and morality decides how we fit in and the path we will endeavour to walk, was an aspect of my childhood which was abruptly lost. The character in the movie “Big” was suddenly forced into a world he did not understand, something which I could relate to, yet at the time of watching it, could not understand the full scope of why. At the time, I felt it was the abuse of my teen years and the difficulty of living with a mother who hated me, which caused this abrupt end to childhood. Yet from my recollection, there had never been carefree, joyful time in my youth. The years to follow after seeing this movie would show me it went much deeper and began at a much younger age. 

It is not as though children do not experience difficulties or problems with those of their own age, often very traumatic, but there are some things children should never be exposed to in my opinion. My fear is that the experiments they conducted on those like me has led to this insane focus in our education system which forces the young to make decisions they are not ready for, mentally or emotionally. To me this is leading to the destruction of such an important aspect of our growing up, which is the innocence of learning without being forced to see. Finding the path right for us based on experiences which come naturally to us. This is a terrible injustice to the children, grandchildren and great grandchildren of this era. 

The other side of that coin however, is to realize if the lessons find us despite our best efforts to avoid them, then this has become the natural way of being due to our inability to change the direction of the narrative when it would have been much easier to do so. Therefore those born into this time, must face choices quite foreign to those of us gone before. Each generation faces on some level what the one before them would never have expected to happen. Change comes from being curious, open minded and understanding there is always something new to learn.