I jumped out of a moving truck last night. I wish I could say it was for a good reason or because I’m into stunts, but the truth is, I did it as a pure reaction to PTSD.
I’m an escape artist; meaning I’m always looking for a way out. A way out of situations, grocery stores, responsibility, confrontations, and most importantly emotions. I feel too deeply to live in this world.
Since having my NDE, I have basically rid myself of responsibility of most things, and I put myself in isolation. I created a safe little haven inside my home allowing very few people to enter my space. I kept every one, and every thing, at a distance. I figured as long as I controlled my environment, I could control my emotions, and in turn, control myself.
I ended up with PTSD after a relationship went terribly wrong. The aftermath of that relationship has stayed with me. Even through all the self-work and work in therapy, I wasn’t able to shed certain reactions I’d have to certain situations. I was now more nervous, I tried to avoid confortation, and tried my damnedest to stay calm and emotionally stable.
I spent the 6 years following my NDE, alone. Last year, I got in my first relationship since the horrible one. I felt good about it because I was different. I was making different choices in life and in men. I was cautious, but sure that this guy was different. And for the most part, he is.
Most of mine and Kyle’s arguments start out as a miscommunication and fire up from there quickly. We are both ones to go for the jugular (verbally). Over the last year and a half of our relationship, we’ve both tried our hardest to minimize those kinds of explosions.
Kyle and I have been tired and exhausted from trying to get our house prepped for sale. We successfully reached the finish line yesterday. With such a physical demand on us, the pain increased; the irritablility increased, all while tolerance plummeted to the depths of hell.
Last night, a series of events were building inside Kyle. I knew something was wrong earlier, but of course he assured me that everything was fine. Long story short, everything was not fine. As we were getting into the truck to leave to go to his father’s house for supper, he decided to let the lava flow.
He freaks out fast and doesn’t even realize it. He’s a yeller (the kind that yells “I’m not yelling!”and, “Everything is fine!”). I’ve told him many times over the course of our relationship that yelling triggers me into a panic attack. I can’t help it. I try to stay as calm as possible but even if I’m not the one being yelled at, the yelling triggers me.
He knows of my past experiences, but yet he can’t help himself from yelling. He stays calm (almost emotionless) on a daily basis, and I think it all just builds up and spills out (usually on me and not on the people that caused his emotion in the first place).
For some reason, we feel like we can do this to the people we love and who love us the most. There’s a sense of security there, that you can be your ugliest self and that whoever is witness to that will forgive you and love you anyways. It doesn’t make it right, but it’s understandable.
So our argument elevated quickly. I was trying to stay calm and get him to the turn around to go back home while we calmed down. We hadn’t even made it out of the subdivision.
He pulled infront of the house and put it in park. I continued to try and get him to calm down (even though “HE WASN’T YELLING!!!”Hahaha) while trying to stay calm myself. As he’s yelling, (and not even directed at me, but in frustration of a bunch of things) I’m starting to shake and vibrate. I start getting warm and dizzy. That’s when the escape artist in me comes out to play. I have to get out of whatever situation I’m in causing me to flip out before I black out and lose control.
He continues yelling and venting. All of a sudden puts the truck in drive and pulls away after I asked him to stay stopped. He made the corner and I’m still asking for him to stop. He accelerates. I grabbed for the door, he locks it, I’m unlocking it; back and forth, back and forth.
Finally, the door opens and I’m calm as can be repeating myself for him to stop the truck. Now he’s yelling louder at me; scared of me opening the door. He’s still not slowing down to stop. I edge myself out on my seat, grasping the dash and door. I put my foot down to the road.
We’re literally going less than 10kms per hour. Really, it wasn’t even fast, but Kyle being his dramatic Kyle self describes it as “jumping out of a moving vehicle” like we were on a highway or something; lol. No, we were barely moving.
Now he’s taking me seriously and he stops the truck. I get out and walk the half a block home, and meet him back at the house. Kyle calmed down enough to realize that he got out of hand with the yelling and he apologized.
He thinks I’m crazy for “jumping out of a moving vehicle”. To me, it wasn’t crazy at all. That’s my survival skills at their finest right there!
Most people can only speculate what they would do if they were trapped in a moving vehicle and in danger. I know what I would do, and not from speculation, but from experience.
I have been locked in a vehicle, trapped, and very much in danger with my ex. After a struggle and his attempt to make me do what he wanted me to do, I had no choice but to open the door and tuck and roll. That was from a moving vehicle, much faster than Kyle’s truck was going last night.
I was put in a situation where I had to survive, and I tucked and rolled. I would do it again if I had to. Did I REALLY have to “survive” last night with Kyle?! No; definitely not. There was no danger there. My mind knew that, but my body didn’t. Anything that reminds me of my struggles with my ex will trigger me in a way that I flip into survival mode and need get out of the situation asap.
I cried for hours. Mostly because the situation triggered me into a full fledged panic attack. Kyle knows this happens, and of course feels badly to trigger it, but feels even worse that I put him in the same category with my ex (which I don’t). Kyle would never hurt me or treat me the way my ex did, but he figures if I get triggered by him then I must fear him like I feared my ex that created this PTSD. I understand his logic but I can’t agree.
I’d never lump Kyle into the same category as my ex. Kyle just loses his temper and everything comes out in the form of yelling. Even if it’s not being directed towards me, I can’t handle it. It causes the same reaction as if he were, and I just have to get away asap. It sucks. I yell when I get mad but when somebody else does it freaks me out.
Even though parts of me are mad at him for triggering me (and not stopping the f@cking truck when I asked him to – lol), there’s another part of me that feels bad for not allowing him the same freedom of expression that I get.
We still have a lot of issues to work on; both on ourselves, and in our relationship. We are worth the work and effort though. I believe that, because somehow, the Universe gave us a second chance, brought us together, and blessed us with a love that most people would give anything to have.
To find someone who loves you enough to help you unpack your emotional baggage, is a blessing. I recognize the blessing. I beleive my children had a hand in guiding me to him. That’s why I know that this relationship is worth it, because it was divinely guided.
-A.M.
Divinely Guided 