I wish it wasn’t so. My body tells me different. Everybody else seems to get along with Harry, the boasting bigger camper guy. Why can’t I?  Because I cannot be forced. Well, I can be, but everything in me fights it. Lying there, taking it, I can’t.

Like a lightening shot to the system, when the man next door leaned over his balcony towering above me, it bolted inside causing a fissure. Like attacks in childhood, breaking the soul like a bone is broken, cracks in some places, others all the way through. Anything similar throughout my life, even if much less major, feels as deadly. Despite much challenge from my brain trying to talk myself out of the damage these two men have caused, my body tells the story.

I can’t sleep. My muscles are so taut my back, arthritic from a waterpark injury years ago, goes out of whack causing sitting to be a thing of torture. By the end of the day I’m in tears, giving up to them, and giving in to medication for a few days, or longer depending.

I’ve lost my way. But slow laps in the meadow on a quiet Monday, weekdays when everyone else is at work, give respite. I can finally center, find that place within where reflection is true, and instincts are honest, not reactive.

I wake, finally having a full night’s sleep, realizing how I’m affected by others who force an issue for their own needs. I repel Harry’s, exhausting me, yet at the same time making me hyper, my entire system on edge readied for attack.

I cave to the neighbor with a good will offering of a bouquet from my garden, akin to the kind Miss America receives. It was beautiful, now leave me alone. I work in my studio with a window facing the Lake House, and realize how unsafe I feel. Yet I need to open my curtains while working to feel less trapped and to let the light in, but also notice that I feel very much on edge, that at any moment one of them will peak in my window or knock on the door to say ‘Hi,’  or demand other things.

That sounds almost silly, yet for me feels like I’m constantly ready for an attack, unsafe, and that I no longer own my own home; that’s it’s not mine, but his, much like the body that wasn’t mine as a child–exactly like that.  

My startle response ramps up to hyper-vigilant. I wish, even still, to be like others so calm, but that doesn’t help me, the wishing. What does help is respecting my needs, my injuries and my pain, even if Samuel or others don’t, or cannot.

Traveling the short distance to my monthly massage appointment will cause pain, so I cancel. And I reluctantly begin the medications that will help my body relax, and will relieve pain and inflammation. I mediate, and walk, because I can stand upright.

And during the walks in the meadow, when nobody is around, I unfold, even my insides wind down, which is most important, crucial. All the little, simple, everyday occurrences I miss when so wired, sink in and come back inside to my deepest recesses restoring calm; the quiet, the coos of the doves, the locusts tweaking a constant scratchy hum, the train echoing in the distance, the birds flocking together as they practice flight patterns for the trip back south… these mend my swirling insides which includes muscles, emotions, the nervous system, all systems… finding my way back home


  1. I am so sorry that your safe space feels invaded. I cherish the quiet and safety of my home and surroundings, it would be very hard to lose that peace. And I am sorry that you are in so much pain right now! I hope you get relief quickly.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! Hopefully a few days of staying out of a seated position will help. In the meantime, I’m pestering Samuel to agree to my desire to put in a few more large pine trees closer to our house to block the view of their monster house and give us more privacy. He’s not crazy about the idea.


  2. I hope Samuel will think about the idea moving some trees to block the view between houses. I think it’s a rational, logical idea and good problem solving. Maybe he just needs some time to think it through.

    I’m sorry you are so sore right now. I really understand. I agree that when I am triggered and end up very hypervigilant and jumpy, i end up having a fibro-flare up. I really do beleive the body pain is linked to trauma and trauma reaponse. Ugh. Anyway, I’m sure you know this, but epsom salt baths can do wonders. And if it doesnt help the soreness, it is relaxing.

    I hope you find a way to get some of that much needed peace back. You matter, and this is not silly.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It feels so good being validated. And that I matter, that I can proceed to work on Samuel and pester him a bit.. You are so right. He does have to think about things a long time.
      Yesterday I approached the subject again, and instead of it turning into a big fight with a day of not talking, I used the ‘I’ word a lot to start each sentence.
      “I don’t understand why my needs to be happy in my own home, and to feel safe don’t seem to matter.”
      He didn’t have a response. But I felt good, that my rage didn’t win out, just speaking up for me, and stating my feelings in a calm voice because I was calm. Oh, I did continue my walk muttering a lot, and not always nice things, very not nice things, like my Mother always told me to be— ‘nice!’
      I forgot about epsom salt. I usually just add it to a bowl for a body part like foot or hand. But I’m veering away from baths due to repeated UTI’s. Oh, how I miss them!
      I did start using Meloxicam, a prescribed NSAID given for my knee but works for backs too of course, along with a prescription muscle relaxer and feel so much better.
      I have learned so much on-line that validates my struggles and pain. That my body going into survival mode makes many other body parts that have existing deterioration also flare up. An eye-opener, and one that helps me take much better care of myself in many, many ways.
      Thank you smart, compassionate Alice! : )

      Liked by 1 person

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