“When the brain’s alarm system is turned on, it automatically triggers

preprogrammed physical escape plans in the oldest parts of the brain. As in other

animals, the nerves and chemicals that make up our basic brain structure have a

direct connection with our body. When the old brain takes over, it partially shuts

down the higher brain, our conscious mind, and propels the body to run, hide,

fight, or, on occasion, freeze. By the time we are fully aware of our situation, our

body may already be on the move. If the fight/flight/freeze response is

successful and we escape the danger, we recover our internal equilibrium and

gradually “regain our senses.”” The Body Keeps the Score

This paragraph explains so much to me. I spent much of my life in flight or fight mode, mostly flight. Every time I entered a psych ward I was fleeing to relative safety from perceived threats of unendurable pain or rejection, other people’s rage, yelling, loud noises. There were many triggers linked to the childhood trauma and the life I tried to “bury” “leave behind” “get over” that made life turbulent at best.

I thought myself weak, stupid, cruel, callous and yes, at times my actions tried to convince me I was “crazy.” The word “why” haunted me. Why must I always escape? Why must I clench the steering wheel till my knuckles were white all the way to Florida and the comforting shroud of humidity laden air each time I left North Carolina? Why must I run back to therapy at what others might think was the slightest incident? Why could I not have a “normal” life?

Because I lived two lives. The one inside was filled with pain, secrets, darkness, shame, and the never ending fear of being “found out.” On the outside I tried desperately to be good, a good wife, a good mother, a good cook and cleaner, a good everything so maybe people would love me and not leave me.

But I had married a man I did not love and who did not love me, a marriage of convenience for us both; I married him to escape my father and two of my brothers and I kept on running.

In a moment of fairness, I would have been difficult to live with, I could barely live with myself.

Over the years I have tried to throw out my “running shoes,” tried to not need them any more. Dialectical Behavioral Therapy may mean the end to running and a new beginning. For the first time I am finding evidence to explain my past behaviors as well as viable hope that I can have a greater measure of control in the future.

Billions of children are abused. It is time people recognize the great need for better and more affordable mental health services. It is time to heal.