Have you ever been patted down all over by security? I thought I had been before. You know, an ankle here or there, but never a complete pat down. Wow. That was really intense for me, and I got emotional.
I’m not sure why. I think it was because I was powerless. I mean, not entirely. I could choose not to go home via airplane. But if I wanted to fly today, I had to let a strange woman with blue gloves feel my entire body in front of more strangers. The more she talked before touching me, the worse it was. Finally teary-eyed, I said, “Hey, you are really freaking me out. I’m a rape survivor and it would be best if you just stopped talking about it and got it over with!” She said she had to talk first, but then she would do one section and ask me if I was ok. I said yes. “Please don’t stop… Just do it!”
I thought about my girls in jail. They have to be “patted down” on a regular basis.
The thing that is interesting for me is that today an “El Dorado” car/truck passed me as Yvonne and I were about to cross the street, and for the first time in decades, I was free from any sort of painful memories/feelings. It was even a black one. I remember what happened, but it doesn’t make me suffer anymore, which to me means that wound is healed! Wahoo!
I’m feeling all “survivor macho,” but then a lady who looks like Jenny McCarthy in a TSA uniform and bright blue gloves freaks me out so much, that I am now back against the wall where I can see everything…where I feel safe.
Such is the moment to moment life in the world of survivors of trauma…war, sexual, physical, whatever, and PTSD is always there.
I do have my uber-cool new sneakers on, and my red cape of love is in my carry-on – my happy yellow bag from Heather and Aspen, my starfish bracelet from Diane, a loving husband, fur children, and a great homelife.
I am safe. I am loved. I am grateful. Getting triggered is now the exception, not the rule. Truly.