Soulful Saturday: PTSD 2

Hey guys, how’s it going? Last week, I got some great reactions to my Saturday article talking about my trigger involving my uncle (don’t worry, I won’t cry saying it right now). It was requested I share more of my triggers, and those do tend to be very deep, albeit difficult subjects. So, Soulful Saturday seems perfect for it!

Today, I’m taking you back to my high school years. I lived in a two family house, with neighbors that regularly changed. I believe I was in 10th grade? I’m pretty sure it was while I was at Cornerstone… Or was it NAA? Oh well. Point blank, we had a very troublesome neighbor. I’ll go on and explain some of the things he did.

It started with water pouring all over our dining room table. Apparently he’d flooded his kitchen or something of the sort? He promised to pay for the damaged goods, but he didn’t have insurance, if I recall correctly. He offered to fix it, even.

All I know is when we questioned him for updates on getting paid back the damages, he started to change for the worse. He was volatile, banging on our windows first thing in the morning, using his leaf blower right near my computer desk’s window knowing it would hurt my head and drive me nuts. Eventually, he and my father had a confrontation.

Unfortunately, when the police came, dad- who hadn’t started it at all or even taken much part- was unscathed, while the neighbor had a bloody nose. They didn’t make any charges or anything, but it didn’t make them like us very much.

The harrassment began to get worse after that. In fact, the man went so far as to come up to the van I was being brought home in and put his leaf blower right at the window nearest me. The driver and my classmates were horrified that this would happen. I was crying by the time I got inside.

And soon enough, it all came to a head. The neighbor was pounding so hard on our door, our living room clock fell off the wall. The noise was horrifying, and I ran to hide. Dad went out and didn’t fight back, even as the bastard kicked him hard with steel-toed boots. The police came once again, this time to a very different scene. I have a vague memory that I was threatened to be next, but dad says that didn’t happen.

Unfortunately, that false memory still remains, as does the very real memory of seeing all my father’s injuries being checked. He was already in horrid shape- he is half of where I get my fibromyalgia from, and he’s had MRSA twice so far in his legs. I don’t recall if he was diagnosed yet with psoriatic arthritis, but… either way, the point is he wasn’t in the best of health as it was, and this guy felt a need to attack.

Now, there’s a couple things I didn’t mention about this man.

  1. He was a severe alcoholic
  2. He was taking advantage of a woman he promised to help get her green card
  3. He was just messed up, according to said woman, but she couldn’t leave.

Knowing all this, I became paranoid for a few years that he’d find us and attack again. I became afraid of anyone that drinks alcohol for a while, because I assumed they could be just like that man that haunts my nightmares. The two upstairs disappeared, but I didn’t feel safe until we moved ourselves. And sometimes, I still worry he’ll come after us. I don’t know why… I just fear it.

I have many fears that relate to this one incident alone. A fear of alcoholics (though my uncle had already partially instilled that in me. I’m getting over it though, at least a bit!), androphobia (fear of men, for me mostly ones I don’t know. It just added to it), and a fear of leaf-blowers that I try not to think about when there’s landscaping being done outside. To be honest, that last one I haven’t even really talked to dad about… You’re the first to know this secret.

I think that’s enough for today. Do you have any of the fears I mentioned? I’d love to hear more about you- whether you want to share what kind of drunk you are or what makes you uneasy. I’m greatly hopeful you never have to experience such a deranged person. I wish you all the best of luck. Thank you for continuing to read my life.

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Jaluna

A young adult who writes as a way of life, and treats all her characters as her children.

3 thoughts on “Soulful Saturday: PTSD 2”

    1. I appreciate your willingness to read about it. It’s quite therapeutic to write about, so in a way you’re helping me, you know~?

  1. Gosh what a piece of work. The guy not you of course! He sounds truly awful…I’m glad you’re not near him anymore.

    I could understand being scared. Even if its not rational we still get scared of stuff like that.

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