Butter — a story about trauma
Jake stood before the store with clenched and sweaty fists. The sliding doors made his eyes blink every time the doors moved. He tried to find a rhythm in their opening and closing. Finding a rhythm could calm his nerves but the movement was too random. And like anything that is too random, to Jake it was unreliable and dangerous.
Jake was in no way weak. He fought in wars and was built very strong. He worked out most days of the week and had a great physique. The store was more scared of him than Jake was of the store. People walked past him and smiled friendly. Some people that knew he was a veteran even thanked him for his service.
They saw a strong man who fought. A man who did things they couldn’t imagine doing. They saw someone who was to be respected and loved. They saw someone more able than them. From their point of view, Jake had done things that they couldn’t imagine doing.
Jake knew this too. He knew he had done the impossible before but just entering the store and buying himself butter seemed impossible now. He felt conflicted and thought: “I can’t do this.” The seemingly simple task was too big for him. Not because he couldn’t get inside and get the butter. It was too big because many intrusive thoughts blocked him from seeing what was actually in front of him.
While most people saw sliding doors, isles, and products, Jake saw danger. Something inside him told him that if he would get the butter something terrible would happen. While traumatized, trivial tasks feel life-threatening. Your system believes that everything in life should be a hurdle to overcome. It believes that when the task at hand is too simple, there should be something wrong with it. The mind deeply believes that there is no such thing as a simple task. To a traumatized mind, the simple task is a booby trap, leading to a bigger disaster.
Jake unconsciously thought that if he got the butter, he would be oblivious to other dangers that could materialize. Coming home from war, his system was redesigned for noticing danger around him. His system wanted to be vigilant and on guard. Getting butter meant that he would risk his vigilance and something could slip past his guard. He couldn’t afford to get the butter. The price he had to pay to get the butter was too high.
He had the money, he even had the physique, he just didn’t have the peace of mind to go get it. When he took a step towards the doors he started to see images of his comrades that fell. He was staring at doors but he kept seeing images in front of him. Images like small movies that showed him everything that could go wrong if he would do something as crazy as buying butter.
These movies were powerful enough to increase his heart rate. His jaw and fists were clenched and his neck was tight. He didn’t notice these sensations and his staring until a car honked. Just like waking up from a dream, he noticed his surroundings, and the little movies were suddenly gone. He exhaled and felt absolutely tired at once. He took a deep breath and looked at everything that happened around him. He saw a mother walking with her child and a cute dog. He smiled at them and remembered he was not in a war zone. The images were just images. They were a movie from a past life. Not this life. Not where he was right now.
He felt the smile on his face and relaxed his shoulders. On the next exhale he unclenched his fists and relaxed his jaw. He had learned to get back into his body after identifying himself too much with the images. When those images appear, you are tempted to really stay in them. Involuntarily. Even after so much therapy he still got tempted but he somehow managed to get back in his body. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. He knew where he really was: in front of the store. To get butter. Butter, to make the best french toasts to start his day with the best breakfast. He loved treating himself to great breakfasts. They made him feel like he was allowed to enjoy the nice things in life.
His dreams were simple and his wishes were few. Before going to war he wanted to be a baseball player. Not necessarily to become a big player, but just to play the game with the local team was enough for him. He was very good at it too. He was an important member of the team and he enjoyed being in the company of all team members. While he played the game, he didn’t see those small movie screens appearing. Instead, he just felt his body playing a game. He felt his muscles. He felt the adrenaline of the game. He felt the sound of the bat hitting the ball. He felt his sprinting towards the base. He just ‘felt’.
As he walked towards the sliding doors, he felt guilty for leaving his comrades behind. He felt guilty for not reacting to the little movies in which they appeared. Jake felt the guilt, but he knew he deserved life too. He knew he deserved not to feel guilty. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t cause the war and didn’t cause his comrades to leave earth there. He didn’t cause the little movies to appear in front of him. He knew he deserved a life without those pains. With each step towards the doors, the guilt grew but so did his desire to live.
As he exhaled he entered the store and lifted his head. He allowed himself to feel and he was about to get the butter. The last two times he went home without even entering the store. This time he went inside and felt his stomach knot. He decided to just feel it. What first felt like death, started to feel more like pain. After a while, the pain felt like discomfort. After a few minutes of breathing deeply and feeling everything, he could tell himself: “This is just discomfort. It is not nice, but it is not killing me.” Suddenly the feeling was less intense and he took a few more steps.
While breathing deeply and walking, he started to think of the game he would play tonight. The thought of hitting a ball excited him. His breathing became more relaxed. He now saw an image of himself catching a ball. He almost felt the ball in his hand. In his mind, he opened his hand. In his open hand, he saw what he caught: the ball. He kept thinking these thoughts and walked through the store, towards the counter, and finally towards the exit.
Jake stood outside again with his breathing returned to normal. No more images. A little guilt but they were more subtle now. Looking forward to tonight's game, the excitement was stronger than the guilt and fear. He had just done something that was almost impossible a few minutes ago. He looked down and opened his hand as if opening a baseball glove. He smiled as he looked at his catch. He did it. He walked home to start his day. He walked home with the first win in his mind. In his body: rest. In his hands: butter.
