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I have shared quite a bit about myself on this site, but there are some things I keep neutral or only drop little parts of my life. I had something happen tonight at the store, which the event itself is certainly nothing new for me to experience. It’s what I did with it after the fact that was new. I figured, what the heck, let’s share it. It might help someone else dealing with the same issue.

I remember the first time I had a moment of panic. I had no idea what it was, other than I knew it scared me. I was in the car, driving on the freeway on my way to my parents’ home. Summer. Coming home from my college job downtown. Rush hour traffic. And heat (no a/c in my little car). At the time, I absolutely hated this particular job, which I took to save some money after taking a year off from college (too much party, zero interest in school). I did not want to return to school. I wanted to travel the world. Alone. I wanted to end it with my boyfriend, as I clearly was not a priority in his life. And on top of all of this, my parents were going through a dramatic separation, where I let myself get sucked in and played counselor. But that was me. Rushing in to save people when the one who needed saving – all along – was me.

I was young. Confused. Overwhelmed. And even though I wore a smile a lot back then and was otherwise a people-person (people pleaser), I was not happy. I felt stuck. I knew what I wanted to do – at least I thought I did – I just didn’t believe enough in myself to essentially quit everything I was doing and start over again. In the end, I stayed the course. Stayed at the job far too long (until I was asked to quit with severance). Stayed in college. Watched my parents go through a divorce. And ended up marrying the boy after graduation. Knowing my bio family was falling apart, I chose to cling to anything familiar.

That moment of panic marked a point in my journey that led me to make choices for everyone else but me. Moved to a city I did not want to live in and started having more of those panic moments. Stayed far too long there. Stayed too long in that first marriage. But eventually I broke free and set off on a new course in my life. But, I had not done the real inner work. I got warned time and time again by friends and intuitives alike that I was too trusting. “Lit up like a Christmas tree with no anchor,” one friend told me. Too naive in my new approach to life, which was that I wanted to love everyone and be me, be childlike. Which is fine as long as you have boundaries. And discernment. Which I didn’t. I had not been taught either. That led to sexual assault, which eventually prompted my body to remind me of the sexual abuse I had experienced as a child. Workplace abuse. And a lot of other unwanted shit, including more abuse.

The panic began to return. Like what happened in my 20’s, overall, I hid it. This was NOT going to happen to me again. I made excuses not to attend events and places. Found reasons not to travel. Unless you’ve dealt with it, no one can begin to comprehend how fucking humiliating and embarrassing it is to say “sorry, I can’t get myself there. I might panic.” I had tried that here and there and was told “just push yourself” (if only that worked) or “get on medication” (tried that in my 20′ a couple of times – NO THANK YOU to those side effects – and it didn’t work- and what an insult to begin with). I was even told, “I just don’t understand.”

I just don’t understand. Yeah, I didn’t understand what was happening to me again either.

I started seeing people again, healers, counselors. I tried everything holistically I could find. Meditations. CBT. Holographic Repatterning. RET. Past Life Regression. Massage. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago, when in one moment of conversation with my daughter did something within me snapped awake. I knew what I had put up with. I knew what I had denied. I knew I had been running for years. Decades. So I took a different approach in this healing stuff, learned about the nervous system, got the proper diagnosis (FINALLY) of C-PTSD due to abuse both in childhood and adulthood, sexual assault, accidents, and medical trauma. I have been doing EMDR and learning a lot about things like the nervous system, narcissistic abuse, and coercive control. It’s slow going – releasing decades of stored trauma from the body. And I mean the body. This shit is not in my brain. That’s where the story is. You don’t supplement or talk yourself out of trauma. You don’t sleep or rest it away. These things help and are important to support. But the key? Getting that energy processed and released. EMDR is interesting as it demands you focus 100% on your body. Sensations. Tightness. The need to move. This reality pushes us to be in our minds and brain. But our body? Nope. But that is where the trauma stays put until processed out. I continue to be amazed at the truth of this. I will be guided to bring up the image representing the particular stressor/trauma, then tune in to my body to see what I notice somatically. And sure enough, up comes tension, tingling, the need to move (often violently) pops up. The eye movement begins, the initial energies from the trauma increase bringing up panic sensations, but if you hang in there (and it took me well over a year to begin to stick with it so that I could do an entire EMDR session), stay in the body and resist the urge to tell the story, I have seen myself go from a 9 in intensity to a 2 within 15 minutes just with this work.

We all have some form of PTSD now after this Awakening and the ongoing Spiritual War for our minds. Souls. The ugly shit we have seen has traumatized us all to varying degrees. So people like me are getting hit really f’ing hard with this PTSD crap. And it sometimes hits you when you least expect it. Like it did tonight for me at the store. I was standing in line, which can be a trigger, as being in any situation where I am stuck, unable to move, or in this case, unable to keep going (it’s strange – don’t ask). It isn’t like I can ask for special treatment. Many stores offer those scooters for people with physical challenges. I wish stores offered lines for people like me. Lines that moved or stayed open just for those of us in a panic. No waiting. Dimmer lights. Tonight was a doozie. The guy in front of me had nothing but produce and a lot of it. None of it bagged. Some of it was so obscure that the clerk had to keep going to check the code. The guy also had this incredibly annoying voice – to me. For some reason, with each word he spoke, it hit my body hard, and I would flinch. Maybe something from my past? I don’t know – that was a new one for me. Just thinking about it now – plus he reminded me a bit of that one demon who sexually assaulted me. Then he realized he didn’t bring his debit card and had to get out a check, which he seemed to take forever to fill in, then there was another issue with the check, and the clerk had to take time to figure it all out. There were also conversations going on around me that were loud. The lights were suddenly far too bright for me, and the music on the stereo system was suddenly too loud. And there it came. Nervous System was overwhelmed. That old familiar unwanted feeling of panic. Heartbeat racing suddenly. I don’t want to faint or pass out. I can’t breathe. My legs suddenly weak, trembling. I began to sigh loudly from impatience in waiting. I was watching other customers come and go at the other checkout line, but all of my food items were on the conveyor belt and the other line was for 10 items or less. I was trapped here. So I decided to walk away, focus on some natural soda and kombucha and returned after the panic had passed. Legs still weak and hands shaking, I completed my transaction. At the end, I decided to just speak the truth instead of ignore what had just happened. I looked at the clerk, that young, sweet girl and I apologized. “I’m sorry for my impatience. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t that other customer. It was me. I sometimes get panic, claustrophobia when I’m waiting in line or when the lights are too bright, or there’s too much talking.” She looked at me with so much sympathy in her eyes. “Oh my gosh I am SO sorry you experienced that,” she said. “It is pretty loud in here, isn’t it? I am sorry that the transaction ahead of you took so long, too.” I thanked her for her kindness. She looked me in the eyes again and wished me a good evening in a tone that was gentle and quiet.

I walked outside feeling exhausted, but also comforted and a bit empowered. This is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a hard one to deal with. If someone says they are a vet and have PTSD, there’s understanding, and the world steps up and says, “thank you for your service, let’s support this guy”. If someone says they have some form of cancer, the world steps up and offers love. Such situations can limit people’s ability to be out in the world, and they receive compassion. I have not had that kind of understanding – and I really need it. I have such a strong desire to heal and thrive again. This beast I am trying to befriend now, after running from it for most of my life, also limits my ability to be out in the world like everyone else. I make too much for SSI and don’t have enough work credits for SSDI. This is why I ask for financial payment for the work I do here and on my coffee page. It is literally all I can do consistently at this point until I am better, in a safe, supportive situation, surrounded by people who see me where I am and support me as I take two steps forward and sometimes one step back and stay. by. my. side. Cheer me on. Maybe that’s something I can bring to the world – share my story so people’s definitions of who is worthy of love and support and help expands.

Today, I realize it isn’t the locations and places that I fear. It’s the panic feelings themselves. The sensations. What they do to my body – those awful symptoms. That is the fear – the phobia. And to add to that, the fear of my own power. That I could be someone. Alone. And thrive. Unlike the elephant in the room that is the fear and the phobia that needs to be seen, there is someone else in the room, always there, telling me, “SEE ME? I’m here too. It ain’t just the fear.” I want to release the shame and embarrassment of being like this. The old voices that tell me I’m lazy or worthless. That deep voice within lets me know I’m neither.

Thank you for reading. And as always, so much love and humble thanks to those of you who are my friends at a distance and whose financial support enables my child and me to eat. If you know someone who might benefit from my story, please share. Let them know they aren’t alone. Enough suffering in silence. Fuch that sheot. We are ALL tidbits of the Most Divine Light. Too often, mental health challenges get ugly labels and a lot of misunderstanding. EVERYONE can heal with the right support that is safe and consistent. Love is the cure for pretty much everything – love in action.

💖

Victoria