Touched Out
I have no real sense of time. I’ve lost track of it. Days blend together like paint swatches. Indistinguishable like daisy and lemon. All of that is to say I’m not sure when it all started. I’ll say 6 months ago but it could be more or less.
My son is a little late to the speaking game. Our daughter was too. I can imagine, nor remember, how frustrating it must be to not be able to communicate, let alone understand, what you are feeling. That frustration has been presented as kicking feet, hitting hands, and teeth that bite. I know this is a phase that kids go through. I don’t recall our daughter doing it this long. Either way it doesn’t matter.
Today I felt completely shutdown and on the verge of panic. It all became too much to bear. This morning was innocent. It was just my daughter wanting to tickle me, or sit next to me and shake my legs, or sit on me, or push my legs out of the way as if I didn’t exist. She can’t know how that felt. I asked her multiple times to stop. The never ending little kid innocent energy and love she has for me wouldn’t let that happen. Something inside of me had had enough. I got up and asked her again to stop. Since then I’ve been almost completely unable to handle being touched without flinching.
My body is no longer mine. It has been used by my children for love and for frustration. My pleas to stop have gone unheeded. My voice has been raised in a never ending attempt to regain control over my body. It now feels like there are triggers on top of triggers on top of triggers.
Physical violence at fourteen is probably being ripped back open in my body. The feeling of feeling attacked for “no reason” (yes I know it’s frustration that can’t be expressed on top of not understanding one’s feelings and wanting what he wants) has made me weary of my two year old.
Loud screaming directed at me, again my brain sees it mostly for “no reason” has triggered a life time of trauma around this.
Lastly, the desire of an innocent child to repair and co-regulate, while running to/at me and sometimes screaming has further triggered my fight or flight. To say I struggle with being consoled or to have things repaired immediately after events like this would be an understatement. I can’t separate enough in those moments for it to be ok. I need to calm down and move through my fight or flight before that works for me.
These things can’t be explained to children. Having to get up and leave and constantly say no or stop is killing me. Top off the fight or flight with a world of parental guilt and I feel like Atlas or Sisyphus. I don’t own my own body anymore. It’s not mine. The violence done to me over a lifetime has been drawn to the surface by innocent children that I love.
Today I broke. today being alone didn’t really help. Moving my body was temporary. I need control and consent given back to me. Then I can work to repair the triggers. Then I can rewire my autonomic system.
I hope it’s not too late. I can’t be the only parent who has felt this way. Just probability alone says I’m not, but fuck, the guilt and shame on this sundae aren’t sweet.
