I have very few moments where I run away. In the fight or flight moment, I will almost always fight! I can come out like a fire-breathing dragon if its needed but there has only been a couple of times that I have had the flight reaction. 3 times to be exact. All energy has been diverted to run as fast and as far away as I possible can so that that “thing” can’t touch me.
Moment one is anything that could potentially have my father meeting my beautiful daughter. I don’t hesitate for a second to pack up and leave town till it is safe to return. However the reality of this is very unlikely but even so that automatic response is predetermined.
Moment two happens ever so rarely. If I hear couples fighting, or very loud yelling, especially if that yelling is at me. I fight the urge to bolt. I have to fight every natural instinct in me to not run away and hide. It’s hard to describe the terrifying adrenaline that takes over my body when I hear loud fighting. The urge to run gets less and uncontrollable reactions become smaller as I get older but it will never really be gone.
Moment three has only come to light very recently and its kind of side-swept me with its intensity.
Mops has been fundraising and planning for the last 2 years to have an outreach for our local Womens refuge. It’s a safe place where women and their children (victims of domestic violence) go to escape and more often than not to restart their lives. We have fundraised and have had many donations for us to be able to create Gift baskets that contain the everyday essentials i.e; shampoo, soap, pads, hair accessories etc. It’s an amazing vision and opportunity to reach the women in our community. Theres just one problem…
I was one of the children that was in that refuge. It’s not that I have bad memories of the place or even the people there but it was such an intense time that all my memories of arriving at the place and the 3 weeks that followed were so intense with emotions that it has me running for the hills, so to speak. We arrived with whatever we managed to grab on the way out. My mum, sisters and brother and myself, understand more than anyone of what actually happens when you arrive at that place. Obviously the rules have changed and new people run it now but the very thought of having anything to do with it, scares me silly. But when people talk about it and their amazing ideas to help, its the overwhelming sound of my heart beating inside of my chest that almost drowns them out. I am side swept with images and feelings and feel like I am running a thousand miles an hour all the while I smile on the outside like nothing is wrong. But on the inside I am fighting these emotions that are over a decade old. I remember every second of everyday that I was there. I have no doubt that the women that welcomed us were lovely and did everything they could to help us. But it was 3 weeks of “Holy sh*%$, what have we done! What do we do now? Whats our next step? How do we stay safe?” Like I said it’s not bad memories, just crazy intense. Intense enough to have me running far, far away from the subject.
I will one day concur my memories and emotions that get stirred with this topic but for now I am content to let them win because right now its just too much.
Even for me.
Till next time,