Traumatized Child

Photo image from www.anxietytreatmentblog.com

"For the traumatized child, life becomes a long, drawn-out crisis. In a psychological phenomenon called hypervigilance, the traumatized child spends most of her time on the lookout for trouble, and as a result, will easily be triggered into fear, anxiety, and depression. Fear increases the level of cortisol, causing chronic tension and anxiety; it can become a frightening, out-of-control vicious cycle." -- Lisa J. Lehr


I never thought much about my idiosyncracies nor questioned them to be much different than anyone else. I'm only now noticing things that formerly escaped my attention. You see, I live my feelings more intensely than others.  I used to think this hypervigilance was not only natural, but universal to all humanity.

Today I suffered one of those notable attacks of anxiety and distress. Fear seized me by the throat in a most unexpected way. I felt exposed before the crowd with a sense of horror and humiliation.  It happened during an innocent role playing activity -- the kind I work hard to avoid.  What everyone else saw as a mere exercise, loomed large as a life-threatening situation. 

I will not bore you, dear reader with the details, but  had the misfortune of playing the role of a supposed "wise and experienced" counselor while applying newly learned therapeutic techniques. As is my custom when it comes to dramatization, I went into a tail spin and crashed. It could be summed up in two words -- STAGE FRIGHT.  Only the mention of having to role play fills me with dread like few things can. My mind goes foggy. I feel rigidly self-conscious, insecure and defeated even before I begin as if drained of all vitality. It's excruciatingly disorienting ...

When leaving the workshop I sensed a strange combination of relief and exhaustion. My temples pulsated with a dull ache. What surprised me this time was my ability to see the event differently.  I became acutely aware how altered I felt.  Before it was enough just to get through the traumatic triggers and survive. No questions asked. I'd get home with a throbing headache and find some way of calming my nerves: Close the door of my bedroom, turn off the lights, sit on my rocking chair until slumber overtook me.

I experience this hypervigilant state in another way ... in my career... expecting, always expecting an authority figure to say words to this effect, "Well, you seem (awkward pause)... like a nice guy, but... hmmm ... how can I say this... you don't fulfill our ... our requirements and expectations. It's better for you and everyone involved that you move on to greener pastures.  It's nothing personal you see.  We wish you well and hope you'll find a position somewhere more suitable to your um... skills and talents."

-- Reflector