Fear (Or Another Four-Letter F Word)

Fear. I’ve used this word as a starting point for my writings many times. The idea comes from Mari L. McCarthy’s journaling prompts. The idea is to pick a four-letter F word and write about it or use it as a prompt. Well, I’m doing that now, but I doubt I’m actually going to write about fear. I honestly don’t know what to write at this point and am not feeling anything in particular. That is, I guess I “should” be feeling something, but I don’t know what. Alexithymia. That’s what I believe this is called. Any emotional state for me is “good”, “bad” or “neutral” like right now. I don’t ever feel totally relaxed I believe. There’s always some level of stress or anxiety or fear in my body or mind.

My movement therapist tries to tell me that my body needs to get used to the feeling of being relaxed, because due to my early childhood trauma, it never learned to trust this feeling. That makes some sense, in that I almost always feel like I’m on high alert even when I’m half asleep. Is that even possible? And if so, isn’t it just normal? Do I even know what “normal” is, being that I’m autistic and otherwise neurodivergent, multiply-disabled and a trauma survivor? I doubt it. But if I’ve lived my life like this for nearly four decades, is there any way of changing it? I hope there is, because this feeling of always being on high alert is exhausting.


This is another freewrite I originally typed up in Google Keep, then finished here.

Brave Choices

A few weeks ago, I was in the mood for writing but didn’t know what about. I downloaded Google Keep on both my PC and iPhone and just started writing based on a prompt I saw on the See Jane Write website. I had never heard of this site. The prompts for the month of November were all two words long. The prompt I used was “brave choices”.

I doubt I’ve ever made a brave choice. Most of my major life choices were made out of fear or avoidance rather than courage. Either that or they were really other people’s choices I didn’t rebel against, or not well enough.

For example, my choice to live independently, wasn’t really my choice. I was pressured by my parents into saying this was my goal after completing independence training and, once everyone except for my parents agreed it wasn’t a realistic outcome, the pressure had increased to the point of being unavoidable.

Similarly, my choice to live with my wife, wasn’t really my choice either. She wanted it, but hadn’t realized all the complcating factors, like my substantial care needs. She had good intentions, mind you, thinking our love would conquer anything. It didn’t. Thankfully, I was able to make the choice to go into the care facility in Raalte before our relationship suffered irreparable damage.

If there’s one choice I made in my life that could be considered brave, it was this choice. My parents and former professionals would likely say this choice was made out of fear too. They might have been right. Maybe, if I’d been truly brave, I’d have been able to organize my own care whilst living with my wife. Then again, now that we live separately, neither of us wants to live together ever again.

I still wonder whether I could improve my life if I didn’t make decisions out of fear or avoidance anymore. I mean, the reason I rarely try out new skills of independence, is fear, namely the fear that my staff will always expect me to possess an ability I’ve shown once, as well as other related or even unrelated abilities. This fear isn’t unfounded, but it’s holding me back more than it should.

“One Chance!” Still Haunts Me…

Today, I’m feeling like writing but am uninspired, so I’ve been checking out a ton of writing prompts and the like. I’ve been fiddling with various notetaking apps too so that I can finally write snippets without them needing to be finished right away. I know I could do WordPress drafts, but I for whatever reason don’t like that. I’m now trying out Google Keep.

One of the writing prompt series was Halloween-themed and the question was about my most recent nightmare. I can’t remember and, thankfully, I rarely get vivid nightmares anymore. I do get snippets of conversations that replay in my dreams. “One chance!” yells the staff trying to force me to accept her new colleague. Those two words haunt me. I have had this experience before.

I recently learned that PTSD nightmares do not necessarily involve the details of your trauma. I don’t know whether the Redditor who said this, based this idea on the DSM, as I’m fairly certain that in the criteria for PTSD, nightmares do need to be trauma-specific except in young children. However, even just reading that someone else experienced vivid dreams that aren’t necessarily connected directly to their trauma, feels validating.

When I was living on my own, I experienced extremely vivid dreams almost nightly and, even when those dreams weren’t directly connected to my trauma, they were disturbing nonetheless.

In a somewhat similar fashion, the staff’s comment haunting me, in itself, might sound rather innoceous. I mean, I know that it doesn’t necessarily take physical or sexual abuse for someone to be traumatized (again, contrary to what the DSM says), but if this comment were a one-off experience rather than a symptom of the rather traumatizing power dynamics involved in institutional care settings, it wouldn’t have stuck with me. Or it might have, but it wouldn’t have had the negative connotation it has now.

There’s a reason secondary triggers are a thing. I often feel shame about the numbers of triggers I have. Usually though, when the context isn’t in itself distressing, I’m able to point out that something is a trigger for me and move on.

Not with this one, but then again it was actually a boundary that was crossed. If this had happened with three people who aren’t professionally related, it’d have been considered a form of harassment. I still struggle with this concept: that what is considered “normal” in a care setting, would be considered a violation anywhere else.