The day started productively. During occupational therapy, I made a beautiful necklace, and the creative activity made me feel good. I thought the day would go well. Usually, it’s exactly at this time that unpleasant events occur. The psychologists introduced a topic at the seminar: Stress Resistance. Discussing this caused another dissociation and flashbacks. Especially when the psychologist suggested a stress-relief exercise. You had to massage your hand, finger by finger, moving from one finger to the next. Then you had to relax your hand and shake it with the other hand. At that moment, my hands felt like dead hands… I got scared… My vision darkened, and I lost strength in my body.
The flashback intensified. I felt a car approaching my legs and the fear of death appeared. I was 5 years old. It was Sunday, and I was leaving church with my mother and older sister. We had to cross the road to wait for the bus on the other side. My mother looked carefully and told us we could cross. But she chose the wrong time. A large car appeared from the corner. My sister and mother saw it and jumped back. But as an obedient child, I continued forward. I let go of my mother’s hand and ran in front of the car. The driver managed to brake close to my feet. But later, I found out I made this possible. I ran diagonally and gave the driver enough space to brake. I did all this unconsciously. My brain perceived the approach of death and the instinct to survive made my legs move. When I came to my senses when I was hugging a man’s legs. I lost consciousness, but my legs saved me. I could only hear the driver’s shout:
– Why don’t you watch the child?
People nearby looked at us with great judgment, made comments, and sighed with concern. I felt guilty for the situation. But I was only following my mother’s voice. Did my mother hug me? I don’t remember. Did my mother talk to me after that? I don’t think so, I don’t remember. It’s a fact that this trauma was never processed. It erupted now and reminded me what it’s like to be close to death. What it’s like to experience death. Maybe that’s why I have such intense thoughts about death? Who knows, I haven’t started trauma therapy yet.
After the seminar, I lay on the bed, tired and devastated. I felt another trauma surfacing, but I didn’t know which one. Anxiety took over, I didn’t know what feeling was coming, what my psyche was preparing me for. I walked, circled the clinic corridor and yard. The storm was still planning to come, it hadn’t changed its mind. And it came indeed. My body froze again, but this time tears came on their own. Finally, the images of old traumas appeared. Two soldiers stood in front of me, with guns slung over their shoulders, drunk and high. We were in the mountains at 2,700 meters. There was not a single stone around, which could have been used as a weapon for defense. One of them blatantly and shamelessly expressed his desire to rape me. Of course, I froze. Of course, I couldn’t move. I shivered, got cold, and lost the ability to move. In this case, my legs couldn’t help me run away. The brain weighed the information that there was nowhere to run and no place to hide in that alpine zone.
– Let’s take down the tent and leave!!! – I hear my little brother’s voice, firm and determined.
Ah, I hadn’t even thought of that as a solution, so succumbed to fate in those moments. I looked up, thinking I was seeing the moon for the last time. Ah, and I realized how I had to protect my little brother from the soldiers and ensure he received as little trauma as possible. I obeyed, we took down the tent and prepared to escape to the village. We walked down the slopes again for 5 hours by the light of night. Fortunately, the other soldier turned out to be more human and helped us escape, though with the intention that I would stay with him when we reached the village. This was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
The universe loves me! We ran into two other sober soldiers returning home from duty, and my little brother and I found shelter with them. We survived…
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