Trigger Avoidance

My grandpa hated watching war movies, he hated watching movies where people died. He hated talking about his time in WWII. He never wanted to go, he was drafted. Marching with 11 other men one day they were shot at. He's the only one who survived. I always thought WWII was so fascinating and wished he would tell me about it. I thought it was fascinating because I wasn't there. I didn't see the real thing.

You know how when there's a car accident everyone slows down and looks. I don't anymore I don't want to know.

I cringe when I hear an ambulance or see one go by.

I just scrolled past a picture of someones husband on facebook, He was in a hospital bed, I didn't want to know why.

I joined this online group specifically for people who's loved ones have died of a siezure. I read about two posts and haven't gone back. They talk about seizures way too much on there for me.

I went to the grocery store the other day and there was an ambulance parked on the curb. They could have been there getting donuts, or they could have been there saving someone. I didn't know. But I avoided it anyway. Just in case.

If I hear about a crash on the news I will turn it. I don't want to know.

I avoid funerals if I can.

Man I am messed up.

The night Dan died I called 911. I don't remember hearing sirens, doesn't mean they weren't on just means I don't remember. What I remember is opening my front door and seeing the bright red flashing lights of a fire truck. I will always remember that.

Lately I've noticed baby girl jump when she hears a siren. She very quickly says something like "was that an ambulance. where is it going" almost panicked. It makes me wonder if she was actually asleep that night or just too scared to come out of her room. I don't know, she won't talk about it.

And this is why we go to therapy.

However I do all kinds of things you would think I would want to avoid but don't bother me.

I pajamas I was wearing the night he died I still wear regularly. I'm wearing them right now.

I had people working on my house today and one of them was named Dan. My friend said it was really odd when I asked him a question and said "hey Dan..."  I didn't think anything of it.

I write a grief blog and talk about my grief pretty much to whoever.

I talk about my dead husband all the time.

And this is also why we go to therapy.

I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle