Trigger Day is Triggering

EDIT: I was told yesterday was Father’s Day and instead of looking at a calendar, I believed it was. Apparently, NEXT Sunday is Father’s Day, so apparently I was all triggered on the wrong day. Maybe this means next weekend, I’ll be all triggered-out and will be fine. Let’s hope.

I try to rarely say “I’m triggered by that”, because it’s used a lot online when talking about mental health, and I get the impression that there are a lot of folks out there who make fun of it, like it’s not a real thing. They refer to some of those of us who deal with mental health issues like we’re faking it, or that we’re “wusses”.

Frankly, I don’t care much what people think of me, but I do take issue with folks not taking mental health seriously.

With that said, I will say that today has been triggering for me, in a big way. Father’s Day is a hard one for me to get through because, well, father-issues. I’m not going to rehash everything tonight. Honestly, I just don’t have it in me. But I look forward to a time when I’m no longer having nightmares and stress dreams about the man. But leading up to today, I’ve been getting very little sleep, poor quality of sleep, nightmares/dreams, and even had to take a day off work due to lack of sleep because of it.

I’ve been trying to move on for the last few years, but my brain seems to be the last one to get the memo.

But then I do stupid things like checking the email folder I shunt all his email to automatically (yay for email rules) so that I don’t have to see them as they come in… just to see if there’s anything new.

There wasn’t, but that’s not the point.

There was at Christmas. And my birthday, I feared there would be another one. This time, there was not.

Today, there was not.

But still, there I was, tentatively opening the folder just to peek and see if anything was bolded, signifying it was a new arrival. I purposely crossed my eyes to unfocus, so that I didn’t have to look at the previews of the emails sent from the past. Stupid. I know. But it’s something I go through, to protect myself.

Today, I did not celebrate an awesome dad. I mourned what could have been. I lamented over the fake relationship I shared with this near-stranger, and how it seemed okay at times, and not at others. Okay, so I didn’t sit there and actively think about it, because I was actually trying to avoid that. But it was in the back of my head. It is almost always in the back of my head.  There were times that seemed good. But I look back now with open eyes and a lot more experience than decades ago, and I realize, I never really had a normal relationship with him. I knew very little about him… and still do. I remember spending one-on-one time with him, either in person or on the phone. I have never had issues talking. When I’d ramble on for a while, I’d finally try to turn the conversation to him. I’d ask him a question. He’d answer it succinctly, or beat around the bush , but ultimately, I’d never really manage to get a real conversation out of him before he’d turn the conversation back to me.

I came to realize that I only started to see the real man behind the mask in the last few years, as all the shit hit the fan.

And frankly, I’m glad he’s out of my life because he scares the hell out of me.

And so, yet another evening has been spent, in bed, staring into the darkness, wishing myself to go to sleep but unable to. Work comes in the morning, early, and I get very little “restful sleep” to begin with, but here I am, staring at the clock, almost afraid to go to sleep because, I worry, what fresh hell will the Sandman bring me tonight?

I had enough last night, thanks.

But why can’t I fall asleep, really?

Because I have spent the day fighting off tears that have stung at my eyes, threatening to blur my vision and muck up my glasses. Because I have done whatever I can to steady my shaking hands while I cut vegetables for a dinner I had no energy or will to cook. Because I have drowned my brain in reruns of movies I’ve seen a thousand times and can recite as if on cue along with the actors, and playing video games that I’ve played a million times, as repetition helps, numbing the mind. Because for the last three weeks, I have been bombarded by commercials and email reminders that this day was coming up, and I have not had any luck avoiding these reminders.

Because I am triggered by Father’s Day.


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