Facing the Door
How childhood trauma dictates where I sit and where I sleep…
Today I used precious energy to move my desk so I can see the door in my office. Why? Because I couldn’t focus at my desk I was so distracted by the door behind me. It’s hard to write and edit and create when part of your consciousness is focused on keeping an ear out for intruders and danger!
It’s not like, in this home anyway, there actually is danger lurking around every corner. This is a safe space for me here. I am safe here. In fact, most of the time I’m home alone. The rest of the time I’m home with my husband — who is not abusive or pushy or unsafe. My husband will leave me alone to focus on creating and writing. My husband will not sneak up and harm me in any way.
I know this logically.
But a childhood filled with trauma and two previous marriages filled with domestic violence and you better believe my brain is wired to detect danger!
My bed has a clear view of the door AND the window that causes me a sense of unease when I’m home alone late at night. I can clearly see them both.
