# Confronting trauma



## Queen Frick (Jun 17, 2014)

TRIGGER WARNING: Death and car crashes and cancer. Not a trigger but this turned into more of a story somehow idek​​Unlike a lot of people here, my DP didn't come after drugs or what have you. The first time I can remember having it I was probably 8 and even then it was a familiar feeling. In 8th grad it became chronic but beforehand the spells of being DPd had gotten increasingly worse. So after years of being misdiagnosed I figured it out when I was 17 that I have DP/DR. But there was something missing. Why? The answer to that question wasn't hard to figure out considering all sides of my family had a history of mental illness. The trigger for my DP was likely the death of my father when I was 2. Of course being 2 I had no clue what was happening but I grew up afraid to ask about my dad, savoring the few facts I had about him even though I really could have simply asked. When I got upset, even now, I think of my dad and it makes me that much more upset. At night I would cry because I wanted my dad.​





(blurred face because I doubt she'd appreciate being posted on a forum)​​I did ask and what I learned made me feel better. Although it is quite sad I take solace in knowing who he was. Shy, kind, proud of where he came from. I've heard so many times how much I resemble him in looks and personality, so I think he would be proud of me today. My dad was 22 when he died, just a kid. He was driving home one night when he lost control of the truck that slammed head-on into a tree. In the years since both of his brothers and his father have been in car crashes that should have been fatal. One brother even saw him dressed in white. While I don't think that story is completely reliable I do think that somewhere out there my dad has been protecting us.​​January 7th, 2012 my maternal grandmother passed away. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer, survived it, then started to go quickly downhill after radiation to the brain. In her final months most of what she said was nonsense but I thought she would get better, I had to. She was my best friend and the kindest person I have ever met. One day she stopped breathing and was sent to the hospital. We all knew it was only a matter of time before she passed. I didn't go see her in the hospital and I regretted that for a long time, but I don't think that is how she would have liked me to remember her. Another night, 12 years after the death of my father, my mother walked into my room and just looked at me. I knew and for some time we sat on my bed in silence. But I was her rock, pushing all of my emotions back to support my mother. I'm good at pushing my emotions away for a time and at the funeral I was going to be strong for everyone. But when we walked into the chapel and I saw the casket I dropped to the floor in tears. Imagine a really overly-dramatic movie scene except I wasn't acting. There is no being strong when it comes to losing someone you cherish. You are weak and vulnerable and the "strong" thing to do is accept that.​​My grandmother had told me stories of her life but only after her death did I start to look into her life. I remember my grandmother as the kind and beautiful person she was but I also she her as the teenage girl she left behind in pictures and writings. She was like me. My grandmother is still my best friend even though she can only talk to me through photos, memories and writings she never expected to end up in my hands.​​





​I confronted my trauma by learning more about the people I lost. I call out to them when I am upset and it helps more than anything to hold my father's class ring or the box of glass angels my grandmother gave me.​


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## chazhe (Nov 12, 2012)

If it helps you process it then its good! But as the person above says, confronting trauma head-on may just cause more pain!


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