Battling COMPLEX PTSD: Memories vs. Flashbacks (9–16–21) A NEW FLASHBACK THAT ALTERS THE NARRATIVE AND WIDENS THE SCOPE

by Jamie Donmoyer

Memories vs. flashbacks. Internally the difference is obvious, yet externally hard to explain. For me, a memory is something that I know is in the past. I recall what happened, but I’m not transported, living in that time. A flashback can come in many forms. Sometimes it is only emotional. I feel afraid, my body shakes but nothing in the present has caused it. Sometimes it’s physical. I can feel hands on my body, I want to crawl out of my skin. Sometimes it’s visual, I can see a shadowy version of events, people, places. Sometimes it’s all 3 at once. It feels as real and paralyzing as if it is happening right now sending my fight, flight or freeze into full effect. With a memory I just think “oh, I recall that.” With a flashback I physically try to get away, running through a crowd, wanting to punch people.

My narcissist father is gone, but the effects of his abuse remain. I’m still on medical leave from work while I continue to battle Complex PTSD, a result of targeted childhood abuse. I attend weekly sessions with my regular therapist as well as separate sessions with a specialist for PTSD and trauma, participating in EMDR, bilateral stimulation (tapping) and other techniques. In between I do meditation, mindfulness, journaling, still working to “unadrenalize” my body. For now, I still cycle between fight, flight and freeze, battling to stay present and connected to my emotions.

There’s been no funeral for my father, no real closure or even indication that he’s died, other than a lack of text messages and a death certificate. I’ve been struggling to understand that he’s really gone, hoping for a relief that hasn’t come (I realized that this really means that I still don’t feel safe inside my body). To help with healing and closure my sister, Mom and I plan a visit to my Mom’s new place, still in my hometown.

The week before the trip, I feel a dull panic (emotional flahsback). Memories from when I was in third grade begin to bubble up. My school had a large field in the back with baseball diamonds, a nature center (that I LOVED but had to be closed because of ticks), blacktop with hopscotch, monkey bars, seesaws, basketball and more. My favorite was the climbing apparatuses, specifically a large, red jungle gym that was almost shaped like a Christmas tree, wide at the bottom, narrow at the top. I’d always been nervous of heights, but for some reason, I loved climbing to the top and sit above the trees, looking at everyone around me.

My mind keeps flashing between this memory and the day my dad brought my dog to school for show and tell. I remember it from an outside perspective because he’d brought his video camera and I’d watched the tape several times as a kid. The look of surprise on my face when they got there. Kids so excited to see a dog, especially my two best friends in the class, Katy and Patty. We all played the violin, we all loved to draw (although Patty was exceptional at both and always had her artwork displayed in the hallway). Just that section of the memory, the excitement, plays like a loop in my head, but the memory stops there. As usual I go into analyze mode:

“You were looking for a happy memory with your father, here you go. Bringing your dog to school…but why does it show up when I think about the red jungle gym? Is my brain giving me clues to solve a mystery? Why am I thinking about 3rd grade?” (It’s also just occurring to me now that by viewing the video I was viewing from my Dad’s perspective. Interesting.)

Sudden abuse flashbacks start emerging throughout the week. My body is not ready to fully receive them, so it’s literally a flash and then gone. One happened in line in the grocery store. It was so intense I yelled “NO!” punching my fists into my temples. When these flashes come in, I doubt their reality. I think that my brain is getting creative and inventing an idea, like I’m just making up an imagined scenario that happens to come with panic, fear, and physical reactions. I’m so conditioned to doubt myself that I think this EVERY time, which is baffling. Only when the full flashback is allowed to emerge do I realize that it’s real…and familiar.

Then it hits me. A question and answer that help widen the scope of why the two memories are important (this widening has been essential to so much of my healing). My father created ideas (lies) and never wanted anyone to see what came before or after. Like being in a cult. He only wanted you to see what he wanted. Not to think for yourself. As I widened the scope on this memory I realized:

I would climb the red jungle gym almost daily, and spend ALL of recess up at the top, alone, looking at everyone having fun below. Why did I do that instead of playing with Patty and Katy or my other friends? It’s because up there I felt SAFE. No one could get to me without me seeing them coming.

I have a vague memory of a teacher asking me why I stayed up there alone all the time. “Because I like it,” I replied. I suddenly see myself at the top, with all of my emotions on the ground, at a safe distance. This is both comforting and frustrating all at once. They can’t get to me, but I can’t reach them either.

The day before my trip, I woke up shaking. This has happened quite a few times. It’s an internal shake that might not be visible to others, but if you stood close, you could hear my teeth chattering. I’ve learned that it’s an indicator of fear trying to come to the surface, often in the form of a new or expanded memory. I’m clumsy on these days. Forgetful. Decisions and communication are nearly impossible. Autopilot, here I come!

I go to the beach with a friend (forgetting my phone), I practice mindfulness while intrusive thoughts fight against me, I even eat in a restaurant and return an incorrect order. Outwardly I’m functioning while the shaking continues.

By nighttime it’s intense. I try to push through to attend a play with my husband and daughter, but once I got in the car I knew I wasn’t going to make it…not that I could vocalize that. I was frozen, afraid to speak up. All I could say was “look at my arms shaking.” My husband knew that meant I needed to stay home. I assured him I would be fine alone while they attended the play.

I barely made it to the couch before a wave of fear took over. I put on my music and cried it out. Afraid, with no specific, present reason. That’s PTSD. Re-living an emotion based in a memory, even if you can’t remember the actual memory itself. I just tried to feel the feeling. By the time my husband got home I was ready to hide. He sensed it, and instead of leaving me alone, he got me talking. That was the key. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. He listened and hugged me while I was screaming and crying about how the abuse had been so targeted, how I couldn’t get it to stop. I was fully in fear, but of what?

I get so overheated that I put one of our theme park fans around my neck to allow the air to blow in my face. I lay on my bed, practicing my deep breathing. This is calming. This is familiar. Biceps tightening, Shaky breathing. Something is wrong.

Before I know it, my fists are in my eyes and I’m transported back to 3rd grade. Sleeping with a fan blowing on my face, waking up to find my father in my room doing something horrible.

I’m afraid to speak, I can only make terrified sounds. This flashback is new and yet familiar. I’ve been seeing glimpses of it all week. Now if I can stay in it to feel the feelings it might get the trauma out, but I want to leave!!!! GET AWAY!!!! DON’T TOUCH ME!!!

I can hear my husband beside me saying “You’re safe.” This is the first time he’s witnessed me in full flashback. (They usually happen in therapy or when I’m hiding). I can feel the fan blowing, I’m simultaneously in my adult and childhood bedrooms. Finally, the flashback gets so intense that my brain feels like it explodes into a flash of light. I yank the fan (trigger) away. I’m back in the present.

I tell my husband what I saw (I’m so exhausted, I can’t hold anything in even if I try). He is a wonderful listener as usual. I’m so glad that he didn’t let me isolate when I was in flight mode. Thankfully, since my first EMDR session, my flashbacks haven’t had the physical “hands on me” feeling, just the emotion itself (fear) and the visuals. I hope this continues, because the physical flashbacks are the worst of all.

As I process what I just experienced, I come to a terrifying realization: this flashback changed the narrative. The tight timeline I’d put together for sexual abuse was no longer valid. I hadn’t shut it down when I was six, like I’d believed (and wanted to believe) since July when I first unlocked the sexual abuse memory. It had gone on longer. There’s more to uncover. More to heal. More flashbacks to experience.

It also answered a lot of questions. Why in some of my flashbacks my dad looks older. Why I was (and still am at times) so afraid of the dark that I could only sleep with full lights on, if I could sleep at all (this was true through my teen years into adulthood). To this day I still have the TV on when I fall asleep.

I’ve always known that my father’s most devious behaviors took place late at night, I just thought that time was reserved for others, not me. I feel exposed, thinking of how many nights I slept in my childhood bedroom and what could have been occurring without me even knowing.It feels all consuming and mostly, endless.

I share this feeling with my both my therapist and PTSD specialist separately the next day. They both share things that combined, click in my brain, gaining a larger understanding of my power as an adult:

When you are in something that feels “never ending” that indicates an emotional flashback. It’s your inner child that’s afraid. In reality, in the present, the abuse has ended.

A Flashback is only a memory. It’s not really happening now.

So a flashback is a memory, just with more glitz and glamour. It’s JUST a memory. With these words of wisdom, I feel like Sara from “Labyrinth” when she tells Jareth “You have no power over me” and (spoilers) he tosses his crystal and turns into a harmless owl. If I can keep remembering that I’m now an adult, I have power over the abuse.

Now to fly up north and test my newfound knowledge in the place where it all began.