Original "Star Trek" Episode and Rape

One of my little pleasures in life is watching the original Star Trek episodes on Saturday night. We have a local station (ME-TV) that carries it, and I sit down on Saturday night to my dinner and watch it before the late movies come on.

This week, the episode was where Kirk, Chekov and Uhura were on the transporter platform and were abducted to a planet many light years away. They were imprisoned on a world where gladiatorial contests were the norm for the humanoid slaves captured from around the universe. They wore neck collars and wagering was done on several outcomes by "the providers" who ran things.

One way to "increase" the combatants was to interbreed them. Shortly after Kirk and the others arrived, Uhura was "chosen" by a barbarian from this planet. The scene was tastefully done, but the screams and noises made it clear she was being raped.

Obviously, there was nothing Uhura could have done to prevent it, even though she fought back. Kirk and Chekov were in separate cells, down the corridor. Kirk objected, but could not reach Uhura to protect her. The barbarian straightened his clothes as he left. Uhura was dressed as always, not a hair out of place and her makeup was as always. Kirk asked her if she was "OK" afterwards, and she nodded. She NODDED!

She was NOT OK!

No mention of this incident by Kirk when he confronted the providers and reasoned for their release. No mention of Uhura's trauma to Bones when they returned to the ship. Nothing.

This episode triggered an episode of PTSD in me. As a youngster, I was molested. I was raped in my teens several times. Once, I was gang-raped at knifepoint. Once, I was abducted and raped. Los Angeles was NOT a nice place to grow up, but since I didn't know anywhere else, I lived through it. The first time I was raped, at 14, I reported it. I never reported another rape. As for the molester -  let's say that Stockholm Syndrome won the day until long after he'd died.

I was NOT OK!

Recovery from all this is an ongoing process. I have PTSD from it. It messes with my relationships - especially my male-female relationships. The trauma informs my writing and my determination to be more than a  survivor.

I wish that there had been a warning at the beginning of the Star Trek episode. I might not have watched it and saved myself the bad dreams, lost sleep, and "checking out" that I did for two days.

Yes, I checked out of my life for two days. I ate things that I know to be bad for me. I didn't talk about it. I didn't know how to talk about it. I didn't know who to talk with. I didn't even realize that I'd been triggered.

I finally realized all this early this morning when my dreams finally came, and I saw the terrible truth of all this.

Now, I can take care of myself again.
Now, I can forgive myself again.

It was NOT my fault. My body is mine. No one is allowed to touch me without my permission.
No hugs, handshakes, kisses on the cheek....
Nothing.

Triggered and Being Told What to Do

I decided to write about being triggered and then being told what to do. It's a bad combination.

First, being triggered. My neighbor, without meaning to, has been playing his stereo so loud that my wall is bouncing. Not only that, but the bass is making my skin jump. I caught my back tensing up during the tunes and releasing during the breaks today. It was so loud that I could hear the treble lines. I could almost hear the lyrics. It was loud, and it started early. About 10:15 this morning. I called the office after about 35 minutes. I called again, almost hysterical, about 30 minutes later. Maybe 45. In the meantime, I got a call from Kathy asking me when I wanted to come over. Michael was kind enough to agree to an interview so I can get down verbatim what he says about diabetics for my new book.

So, I finally called her back after the second call to the office and said I wasn't coming over because I was too triggered. She called back wanting to tell me what to do. She says "just leave" and that's not only not an option, it's a "hell no" not an option. I won't be chased out of my apartment by an asshole. Whether he is or not. I wasn't in the mood to argue. I finally said I don't want to talk about it. I was truly ready to go to the hospital, I was so triggered.

So, what does it feel like? It feels really, really bad. I had physical reactions this time, to the sounds. I didn't have the TV on, and was on the internet. I had to get off as I started to shake. Being triggered is like being electrified. It doesn't feel good, and I have all this energy just rumbling around my body. It's like I'm jumping out of my skin. But I can't leave, so I'm stuck. I lose all ability to concentrate. I can't think, can't feel, can't move. I am paralyzed. I can't make decisions. I'm frozen. And I'm shaking like a leaf.

I can't confront him. No way in hell! He is OK, I'm sure. But I can't confront him. He lives in his wheelchair. I hardly speak to him.

Then, to be told what to do. Kathy has this thing where she tells people what to do. At least she does me. It's even worse than when Sarah does it. Kathy has NO CLUE what it's like to be in my shoes. At least Sarah has walked in them. Or at least some of this path. Kathy has been coddled, cared for, educated, working for most of her life. She's terrified of being broke. She has a lot of trouble with loss. Well, guess what! I have enough of all of that to make her very uncomfortable, so she tries to tell me what to do.

Yesterday, I told her I had spaghetti for lunch. It was leftovers, and i was hungry. Ok, so that's not the greatest lunch in the world, but she's on this no-gluten or wheat kick, which is a rich-man's issue. I eat what the food bank gives me. I eat what I can afford. I have to leave corn alone. I accepted a gallon of milk, but I only needed the bottle it came in, not the milk.

Being judged because I'm poor is bad enough. Yesterday, I was reminded of WHY I'm in this financial hole all the time. At the Doctor's office, we went through the history of my back, because he wanted to know why I had both rods and a laminectomy. He wants to do an MRI on my knees and I'm afraid of it.   I'm afraid of MRI because of the rods and screws in my back. So, he's getting what records he can from Barton Hospital. Make sure they are OK to MRI.

That got me thinking about not being able to hold a job for 21 years between injury and surgery. Not being able to do what I want to do, no school, using drugs and alcohol to control the pain - physical and emotional - because I can't hold my own, can't produce like others of my age and race, education, background. Being afraid of moving forward. Being afraid of relationships, martial arts, pain. Being afraid of life.

And then the surgery in 1999. And not being given any direction about physical therapy. Like they just dropped me. So, I've never really recovered. I still don't know what I can or cannot do. I now have all these injuries on top of that because I keep hurting myself because I don't know my limits. I don't know what I can or cannot do. I don't know how to move correctly. My gait is messed up. I walk funny and that causes more damage to my legs and hips. My ankle is finally working and my legs are about gone.

So, yes, I get angry and sad and upset when I get triggered and then get told what to do by someone who has no fucking idea what it's like to be me and walk my path.




Anyway, I got really hungry after that and went into the kitchen to cook something. He turned on his stereo for another record or something. It was REALLY loud again. This time, I banged on the wall. Twice. He finally turned it down. I don't want to be a problem neighbor, but I need peace. He can maybe move his stereo or something. The noise on the wall is too much for me.

Blood Sugar and PTSD Triggers

Man! I hate this being insulin resistant! My blood sugar can dive in an instant.

And that sets me up for PTSD triggers to just eat my lunch!

I forgot to eat breakfast this morning. Actually, I ran out of time. Instead of eating, I applied to a couple of internships so maybe I could get some $$ coming in.

So, I ran to class, sans breakfast. Class was OK, and since I was near the YMCA, I decided to go over and get set up, since I can do that for free because of my health clinic setup.

Well, I got over there, and the parking lot was FULL! I mean, there were people driving around looking for spaces...

So, I left, trigger started...

I got cut off by a huge truck in the Old City where I usually turn, so I took the next street. A one-way street, going my way. A light blue SUV decides to come right at me -- going the wrong way mind you! He put me into the loading dock on my right, and I barely missed the concrete! PIG! I really hate SUVs and their drivers in this town!!!

So, I make it to the street I need and it's clear, so I pull out. I decided that any SUV that got in my way, I'll be honking at. I think it's time I turned into a NY driver - sitting on my horn all the time.

If they won't put their cell phones away, then they are really blind or something. I'm so sick of the way they think they own the roads! Always going over the line into my lane, not paying attention to where that behemoth vehicle is going, which is a death-trap and a deadly weapon, all at the same time. My horn is now primed!

So, I got home, made a breakfast smoothie. I dropped the my bag of frozen strawberries on the floor, so I had to wash them off and put them in the fridge, instead of in the freezer. Just a mess all around! By this time, I'm shaking, my blood sugar is so low!

I sucked that thing back and it took less than 5 minutes for the protein to start hitting. I feel much better now.

My PTSD is bad enough, with the startle reflex, the irritability, and the safety/security/body issues. Add the insulin resistance, low blood sugar and then falling asleep after I've eaten and it spikes, and yes, there are serious things going on.

In case you think I'm not talking to my docs about it - think again! They haven't found anything!!! Yeah! The 3-month test - the A1C test - shows nothing wrong. Yet I experience this wild swing on a daily basis.

Oh yeah, that stress test--> My heart is fine. They think it's "indigestion" again. At least they gave me nitro tabs, so when my heart goes nuts, I have them.