The Ticket for a Runaway Train (53rd Post)

My Dear Reader, if while reading this post you become unsettled, please stop reading, close your device, settle yourself, regulate your emotions, and/or connect with your support systems. 

Before we proceed with an example of a PTSD reaction - as promised in the last post - allow me to gently place us all on the same page of understanding. People - and I personally believe all sentient beings have what is referred to as simultaneous emotions. Meaning, in many situations, experiences, learning curves, discoveries, etc. people experience more than one feeling at the same time. How we handle the array of feelings is to sort through them, and usually express the most dominant one. The expression could be with words or behaviors. In contrast, due to the undiagnosed TBI and PTSD, depending on the circumstances I may experience simultaneous chaotic emotions, distorted thoughts, and juxtaposed behaviors to the situation. TBI damaged my frontal lobe which left me with no brakes in my brain with which to slow down, mitigate, or talk down my limbic system when said system would be sabotaged by PTSD. In essence, when PTSD is a passenger on the train - survival emotions and behavior will trump logic. As PTSD lives mostly in the limbic system and the brain stem. Both have neural pathways which focus on survival and emotional regulation. PTSD introduces dysregulation into the scenario. Usually. the frontal lobe can intervene with dysregulation. However, with no breaks in my brain, PTSD easily dominated a situation. Reality became distorted, skewed, or a total nightmare. Thus, a simple innocuous gesture, like closing a door, is experienced as a threat and or dangerous. Once PTSD is in charge of the survival systems, it can charge out the door before the frontal lobe can reach the doorknob to try and reset the brain. PTSD becomes a runaway train with no conductor on board. Or, as lyrics from a “Soul Asylum” song says “Seems like I should be getting somewhere, somehow I ‘m neither here nor there.” “Here I am just drowning in the rain with a ticket to a runaway train.” Once on the “train” overwhelmed becomes a HUGE understatement. Now, Dear Reader, we can proceed with our example. As I mentioned in the previous post, I liked and enjoyed being with Rick’s friends and family. His parents had been nothing but welcoming to me. On one date, after Rick picked me up, he suggested we go and hang out at his house for a while. I told him I liked the plan. As we neared his home, Rick casually mentioned his father wanted to talk with me. I was a bit surprised by this request and asked Rick what his father wanted to discuss with us. His reply further surprised me. He said, “Oh my father only wants to talk to you in private.”I pondered his reply, however, could not fathom what I had said or done to warrant this invitation. I was worried I had said or done something wrong. Due to the undiagnosed TBI, it was often difficult for me to perceive or understand how I was coming across. Puzzled and concerned I asked Rick what promoted this invitation. Rick was a tad evasive. He told me not to worry. He told me I had not done anything wrong. He said he could say no more as his father wanted to explain. Before I could digest his response alarms started to go off in my body. This further confused me as my brain felt curious, however, my body felt and was reacting in a very concerned manner. I was feeling deep dread, and somewhat trembling with fear, I hoped Rick did not notice the shift in my demeanor. Consequently, I focused on appearing calm and trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. 

Rick appeared to be studying me. Again, he assured me nothing was wrong and the reason was a good one. He then asked if I did not want to do this? I took that statement as my cue - my words and/or behaviors must be amiss and juxtaposed with the intention of the meeting. Since the first head wound at age 5 (see early post), due to the undiagnosed TBI, I had successfully transformed myself into a “quick change artist.” I immediately smiled and told Rick I was very agreeable to the meeting. However, the truth was, I just wanted to go back home. Sitting in the car as it drew closer to the house, I felt defeated and gave up on creating any kind of escape plan which Rick and his father would find credible. I had to work hard to stay silent or engaged in amiable chatter as my body continued to respond. I had a rapid and irregular heartbeat, profuse sweating, shortness of breath, and the constant thought of RUN AWAY replaying in my head. I felt helpless and out of control of myself and the situation. All too soon we arrived at his house. As bad luck would have it his father must have heard the car pull into the driveway, as he greeted us at the front door. I began to try and figure out a plan to delay the dreaded talk. However, that was a sinking ship, as after our salutations, Rick departed to the kitchen, and his father escorted me to the office. I was too frozen to make small talk. Once inside the office, his father did something common, normal, and innocent. He closed the door to create privacy from the household noises behind us. My PTSD, however, found this action horrific and went on high alert. I felt my heart slam into my chest. I could hardly breathe. I somehow managed not to cry out or just cry in general. Oddly, it helped to focus on how angry I was Rick that he had abandoned me. His father sat across the room from me. I intently studied his demeanor. He appeared relaxed and was smiling. However, I leaned forward, ready to pounce or escape if he came near me. He introduced the topic - of Rick. He thanked me for meeting with him. He thanked me for being “such a good influence” on Rick. He stated since Rick met me, he had been making changes for the better. He thanked me for changing Rick. Fantastic talk huh???!!!  Not to MY TBI and PTSD brain. They were both just adding chaos to the discussion. 

I thought to myself - does he think my changing Rick is a good or bad idea?  Yes. I know - totally not based on the facts his father told me, however, my brain was TBI confused and in PTSD defense mode. Very, unfortunately, I blurted out - NO!! You are wrong I am not trying to change Rick - I never asked him to change - I like him as he is - I don’t know what you are talking about. In retrospect, I must have looked and sounded very frantic. I am sure being covered in sweat, with my rapid speech, and my fear did not help the situation at all. For, Rick’s father looked bewildered and puzzled. In a very soft voice, he attempted to calm me down. He was telling me I had done nothing wrong. Due to the undiagnosed PTSD, I did not know my physical reaction to terror is typical of women who had been sexually assaulted, harassed, or discriminated against. At the time of the assault in eighth grade, my mind had dissociated from the trauma, however, my body held the awareness and memory. Unfortunately, the scenario with Rick’s father contained some of the same elements that lead up to the assault in eighth grade. Both were older men, we met in a private office, no one else was present, and the talk involved a boy I had been interested in. (See previous posts). My body saw similarities and went into terror and survivor mode. It was all very confusing for me as I actually liked and was comfortable with Rick’s father. However, my PTSD had been in no mood for logic and off went that runaway train. Thus, my own and Rick’s reassuring words, his calm demeanor, and his presentation of his father as a benign person had no impact on my PTSD train. Survival trumped logic. Tragically at that point, my runaway train brain crashed. Nothing he said made sense to me. And then my mind slipped into dissociation. To this day, I have no memory of how or why the talk ended. All I remember is his father gently escorted me to the door. He looked confused and somewhat sad. Rick met us as we left the office. He was all smiles till he saw his father’s face. I opted not to look directly at his father. His father bid us goodbye and wished us a lovely evening. He then returned to his office. Rick took my hand and asked me “How was the conversation?” All I said was - can we go now? Rick looked surprised and asked if I was ok. His question made me realize, once again, my words and behavior did not fit the situation. I quickly smiled, hugged him, and said “Really it went fine.” After the embrace ended I asked again if we could leave. Rick agreed and we walked to the car in silence. Once in the car I dissociated again and have no memory of the rest of the evening till I returned home. I do remember once we pulled into my parent’s driveway, I realized I had changed. I had stopped sweating, my heart rate was normal and regular, my stomach had untied all its knots, and I felt calm and safe. I was happy to be sitting beside Rick. I felt deep relief the evening was over. I felt exhausted, and once inside the house, went straight to bed. 

The next time I saw Rick and/or his family I did what all survivors do - pretend, believe, and act like the incident never happened. I was able to pull it off as I really did like his family and went on to have many enjoyable interactions with them. The only thing that continued to haunt me was the TBI symptom of not being able to discern at times who I was and how I was coming across. So to this day, I am uncertain as to how they saw me. For the victim, traumatic events brought on by a human predator derail and destroy, many what could have been many wonderful and normal experiences. Untreated PTSD from sexual assault ruins a woman’s life and relationships. It can alter her future - and not for the better. The patriarchy needs to change its behavior toward girls and women. All that is left for victims are runaway trains. And the only passengers on said train with the traumatized women are silence, not being believed, heartache, and heartbreak.