Just a weird trigger
I want to get off my chest.
Fucking vacuums. It's so stupid to me. I know why, and I understand why - growing up, my mom had a lot of chronic pains and issues with her back so she never did things like vacuum, she delegated that to me most of the time. So hearing the sound of a vacuum when I or my brothers weren't cleaning meant that she was awake and angry. She only ever vacuumed when she was angry.
I didn't even realize it triggered
anything outside of the context of being at my parent's house until I spent the night with my friend when I was 17 and her mom vacuumed the floor above my friend's room. I can't even describe what it felt like, looking back. When I dissociate, it's like playing a VR game. Even while dissociating hard, I had to stay functional or else worse things could happen. But being in an environment that my brain perceived as "safe" - i.e., away from my mother, it's more like I stopped being able to rationalize anything. Those five minutes of vacuuming are engraved into my brain. I couldn't do anything. Luckily my friend and I had already chilled out for the evening at that point, her being on her phone and me hanging at the side of her bed looking out her window watching whatever last bit of dusk there was left. I couldn't think at all, and I was mortified that my friend would talk to me, and I wouldn't be able to talk back, or even understand what she was saying - but at the same time I couldn't even feel the fear I was experiencing. It's stupid to say, but it's like my entire existence was replaced with the sound of a vacuum upstairs for those five or so minutes. I kept trying to think and rationalize it, that I wasn't at home and this was my friend's mom, but I couldn't think. It's like I forgot language entirely. Desperately trying to cling onto some word, any word or sound, but nothing was there. Just what was around me, and that noise.
It's a ramble, but I don't know why I can't forget that. I've forgotten most all of what I experienced at the hands of my parents and still have a good relationship with them. Still very close with the friend in question, too. But that moment won't leave me, and as much as I hate how horrible my memory is, it's the one thing I want to forget. It's not even the worst I've felt due to things like dissociation or panic attacks. I don't know why it's stuPost too long. Click here to view the full text.