#maybe some kind of CBT-type mantra.

[1tbls]

swap au where kim has absolutely smothered himself in the accoutrements of cophood, till it's the only identity he remembers. because i think that's his extreme of losing himself, compartmentalizing himself away into work, not addiction and nostalgia like harry. what youth and better time does he have to cling to? it was always shit. it's his neat little role and place and power in the RCM he clings to as a greener pasture, the lesser evil.

harry precedes the story by flinging all his cop gear away from himself and begging to be someone different. kim precedes the story by cocooning himself in his uniform. what does he beg for? 🤔

[techmomma]

I made big progress with my trauma recovery the other day! I’m really proud of doing a very hard thing, and honestly doing so made me feel so much better.

Said growth involves realizing some unfun things, so y’know, look out for that under the read more, even if I consider this a hopeful, uplifting realization by the end. Christ this is long, have fun reading this word wall.

So I essentially lived in a bitter divorce household. Y’know, when the two parents have an awful, agonizing divorce that pits the kids’ loyalties against each parent and each other and themselves.

I grew up in that. Except they never actually divorced. Or separated. Not till after I’d moved out, anyway. So 20+ years of living in a household where my parents flip-flopped between “trying to make it work” and “screaming at each other and bitterly trying to corral their kids in this us-vs-them, me vs your other parent toxic tug of war.”

Why didn’t they divorce? Codependency and religious pressure because both were previous divorcees, one was an excommunicated catholic because of this, and the other was a narcissist who couldn’t admit defeat and made a promise to god to make it work for fear of the shame that would come from failing again! What a winning pair! Who definitely did not mutually cheat on one another and then act scandalized and eternally vindictive about this.

Anyway, what this meant for Steph’s psyche was every day was an eternal battleground of loyalty tests. Any disagreement was disloyalty. Saying the wrong thing could be taken as disloyalty. Yet, y’know. You don’t want to be disloyal to the other parent that you love. You don’t wanna throw them under the bus. You just wanna say what you saw happened.

Which meant every answer became this tightrope of not only validating and appeasing one parent’s ego, but also finding the diplomatic thing to say so as not to implicate the other parent, or get that parent in trouble, or appear disloyal because that too could come around to bite you in the ass. Sometimes we agreed with what one parent was saying, but taking issue with a small part or one aspect? This was seen as fully disagreeing and being disloyal.

You can imagine the pressure this put on an already socially-awkward kid, ages 4-20, to find the exact correct thing to say. It rarely worked out.

But I figured out a clever loophole early on: if I shut down, if I didn’t make a peep, if I said not one word—sure. That parent would be mad at me for not responding. They’d be made I wasn’t saying anything. They might yell louder, or guilt me, or threaten me with some form of humiliation.

But not saying anything was so, so much better than any alternative. Never once did speaking up end well.

If you know about pavlovian training, you can probably quickly see the conditioning that was set in. Parent would state an opinion, about anything. Give validation. Parent looks for validation about shitty feelings about other people? Don’t say a peep, let parent be mad, and eventually they’ll either get so frustrated they give up, or they say their piece and get whatever was on their chest off of it. Either way, they leave me alone. Maybe after three hours of screaming at me, but three hours could turn into six if I made them more mad by disagreeing or seeming disloyal.

And for the record, when I talk about loyalty, I’m not saying they were asking about actual loyalty. They wanted me to agree with their opinions. They wanted me to be on their side, their ally, no matter what the other parent said. It was all or nothing. “You’re with me or against me.”

Made all the more complicated that sometimes, if you seemed disloyal to the other parent, the supposed “enemy” in the situation, the first parent might berate you for that too. “How could you talk about your mother/father that way? How could you say those things?” Despite having been saying worse things minutes before.

They were volatile. The smallest, stupidest things could become full-blown arguments that could last for hours, at the top of their lungs. After which they might turn that to us, the kids, to get out whatever was left in their system I guess. Small questions, statements, became tests. Answer wrong, and there would be hell to pay. The most innocuous things could become loyalty tests. But most of all, the most discerning tests came when they were complaining about the other. When Dad complained about Mom, and when Mom complained about Dad. “Agree with me,” they said between lines, “Are you on my side? Aren’t they terrible?”

I just wanted to love both of my parents. I never wanted to choose.

My epiphany came when I realized that when others seek comfort from me, when looking for validation during shitty events or people being mean to them—y’know, normal things people do with friends—I was having emotional flashbacks. I was being triggered into a state of trauma, my brain receding to that familiar shutdown state. Terrified that whatever I say to comfort them, whatever I say to help them feel better, would be taken as a loyalty test. To voice even slight disagreement could be disloyalty.

My friends had never tested me. But my brain was reacting so firmly and my body so wholly that I had no idea. I try to be aware of my emotional states and how my body reacts but this shutdown response has just been so normal for so long, and such a large bodily feeling, that I never noticed what it was. And it wasn’t until watching a video about this type of situation, feeling like you have to validate someone not necessarily from a place of concern but of fear, that I realized what was happened.

I realized how deep the rabbit hole went. This has been happening for decades. At work, when coworkers would complain or even just chat normally about other coworkers, my brain was shutting down out of fear that my loyalty was being tested, I was being scrutinized for disagreement. When customers talked about my coworkers, my brain was shutting down, terrified to say the wrong thing and either disagree with said customer or throw my coworker under the bus. I shut down when friends talk about other friends, when people talk about other people and maybe I agree, but there’s an aspect or idea in the situation that I don’t agree with, or maybe I’m just seeing things differently from an outside perspective.

But every time, I was terrified. I was so scared that my brain returned to trauma, returned to that shutdown state from childhood (and some adulthood), because shutting down, previously, had always yielded the better result. Staying quiet, keeping my head empty and my thoughts blank, kept me safe for twenty years.

And now I can’t hear other people talking in a room without returning to that same shutdown state, for fear that they are arguing and I will be forced to choose between people. To love one friend more than another. Forced to pick a side, forced to soothe their emotions because if I don’t, things will be so many times worse. Heaven forbid they have disagreeing opinions, even if they’re calmly sorting them out, communicating in a healthy way. God help me if they’re actually arguing. I can’t think, I can’t even speak sometimes, voice pulled tight like I’m being strangled; I can’t even squeak out a sound. It hurts too much. It hurts so much.

Sometimes I can hear people through my earbuds or headphones and all I can do is lay on my bed and plug my ears with my fingers as tight as possible and try to hum a song, try to force a mantra to drown out the sound as I desperately try to soothe myself with some kind of stim, even if it’s just rocking side to side on the bed.

I knew I had problems with listening to people disagreeing. But I realized the other day how deep the rabbit hole goes. How often, daily sometimes, I’ve been having emotional flashbacks. How thoroughly this has been effecting my life, my relationships, my sanity.

It’s been so exhausting. Realizing how many things connect back to this central issue of toxic loyalty that I grew up with, how thoroughly engrained this trauma is in my life. Realizing I’ve been having emotional flashbacks almost every day, for decades.

I’m so tired.

But I’m really glad I did. It’s putting a name to the beast. I am finally getting to the heart of an issue that was so much larger than I originally thought but in turn, there is so much potential to truly grow and heal. If I know the beast, then I can know how to face it. I can know how to use CBT therapy for this, how to weaken it to progress. And I’m really glad for it.

I also did something very hard: directly forcing myself to face it, and told my roommates about this deep-set fear. I realized that I don’t often just talk about how I’m feeling, I usually do so in the context of like having an issue or a problem that we need to talk out or talk through. I don’t usually just say, “I’m really really scared of this thing.”

I told my roommates this realization and like the wonderful, amazing friends they are, they understood. It’s an internal problem for me, something just for me to work on. It’s my issue. But now... they know that if I go quiet when discussing other people, or leave the room when disagreements are happening, I’m not just trying to blow them off or or be wishy-washy. I imagine there have been many times in the past when a friend has come in need of support and my answer came across weird or like I was trying to change the subject and it was awkward and not what they were hoping for.

Now they know that my response might be weird because I’m having a flashback. I’m scared, my brain is shutting down and I can’t think.

And that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared in front of my friends. It’s okay to experience that trauma in front of them. I don’t have to try to pretend I’m okay or try to push through the fear when I really, really can’t. It’s okay to need a subject change or even to just listen quietly if I don’t necessarily want my friend to stop venting, I just may not be able to answer in a beneficial way. I may be shutting down and sometimes all I can do is wait it out. And that’s okay.

I don’t have to validate other people because I’m scared. Because I think I’m being tested.

I felt better not just because talking about these things helps but also because a weight was lifted. One of my main triggers is feeling like I have to respond and have to respond correctly Or Else. But now that they know, that weight is off of my shoulders. I can be afraid and not able to respond and they understand why now. I don’t have to try to keep up that lie or try to put on a face or try to push through it.

I can be scared. And letting yourself be scared is the first step to healing from it. I don’t have to pretend to not be scared anymore.

I always know I’ve hit the hammer on the head when it comes to my emotional issues because I start crying and even just typing this out made me weepy, haha. It’s a good weepy though. I made a big step, and I’m really proud of myself. My instinct was to take this and agonize quietly over it myself, find my own solution on my own and deal with it on my own. But I didn’t. I reached out, and it was scary and hard and it hurt and now I’m so, so much better off for it, and now I can really start healing. I can change this.

God I’m so tired tho. Holy shit.