All my life I’ve been running… running away from what? My past? My trauma? I’m not even always so sure. For the last 20 years at least, I’ve been running blindly, never looking back.

In whatever way you could run from life I’ve done it. I’ve moved abroad multiple times. I’ve travelled. I’ve kept myself insanely busy (during my final year of uni I did a full-time degree with placements, supply taught, volunteered in a school, ran a rainbow, brownie, guide and senior section group, had a weekend job at a milkshake shop, was president of the uni netball team, played in a local netball team, lead a Girlguiding UK development project to Chile and organised the project and the team members throughout the year of preparation, I fundraised for said trip, I never spent a holiday or week off in the UK, I went out up to 4 nights a week…and that was potentially one of the calmer times in my life). I’ve had more suicide attempts than I can count, and probably at this point a thousand or more episodes of self harm. I’ve drank into oblivion. The one method of running away I haven’t really used is hard drugs – once was enough for me – it didn’t end well. I have physically ran away, and still do – whether consciously or not. I have disappeared. I have starved myself. I have got myself sectioned and locked up or sent away so I was still effectively running from life. I’ve filled my days with exercise – adrenaline-ridden sports. I dissociate – much more than most people appreciate – I don’t feel a lot of feelings because dissociation protects me. I’ve never, ever in my adult life stopped running.

But for the first time I’ve started to look over my shoulder at what I’m running away from.

And I feel fear.

And its fucking awful.

I’m 6/7 months into my first proper attempt at therapy. I’ve had some partial therapy situations before but either its been the wrong therapy, the wrong time, I’ve not really engaged or it was just too short and shallow. I’ve never really had the chance to look back.

For the first time in probably at least 8 years my life is fairly stable (in my terms anyway – I have a stable roof over my head, a job, my body is not about to pack in physically and no active trauma is happening to me). But yet every single day is still riddled with fear. My body courses with adrenaline that I can’t keep in check. Last week things really came to a head and I ended up getting really distressed because of this fear. I couldn’t function, caused a scene at work, and the skatepark and various other places. Things weren’t OK. I cope pretty well when things are shitty around me – Its my normal. I found myself yearning after 2020 when I had no safe place to stay, was exhausted, life was terrible and unsafe and i wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, but some how made it through – why couldn’t I be the person I was then? Why can’t I make it through my safe cushy day today – where I have a roof over my head, no immediate danger?

So I was struggling to function last week when I rang up the duty team to speak to someone. I was so scared something horrific was going to happen. I’ve lived my life with bad things happening to me – why would now be suddenly different? I told the person on the end of the phone (“oh I haven’t had chance to read your notes but I know your care co-ordinator is x”) – “I’m feeling fear, I’m feeling so scared. I’m terrified”

So you can imagine it went down really well when they suggested “have you tried mindful colouring?”

In my mind I’m literally doing the equivalent of running from a bear – and you suggest stopping and doing some colouring? – no wonder crisis care is in a mess.

Cause of distress = fear

Solution – colouring in

It doesn’t make sense? I rang on 2 separate days – had varied experiences but none of them made me feel much better – phone calls of over 30 minutes just served me feeling less understood and more anxious…and questioning where I had put my colouring pens…

After several days of feeling like everything bad that had ever happened in the world was probably about to happen to me (and my mood and ability of socialise and function reflecting this was not great). I rang the charity who provide me with therapy. I didn’t speak to my therapist – she only works 2 days a week, but spoke to her supervisor – the clinical director. I only spoke to her for about 12 minutes. But she didn’t suggest colouring in. She explained to me what was happening.

She was describing it to me as a smoke alarm going off – but its just someone burning the toast. My smoke alarm is in excellent working order – but its going off all the time – because in the past its had to. I have been in so many situations in my life where fear was the appropriate response (whether or not I actually felt that at the time is another issue) that my smoke alarm’s default setting is kind of set to “going off”. Imagine you hear a car alarm on the street – and you get filled with fear-based adrenaline. It must be your car that is being stolen! You check out of your window and your car is there, safe and sound and the alarm is coming from further down the street. In theory you can rest, safe in the knowledge its not your car that is sounding the alarm. But you don’t rest. The constant siren puts you on edge, you can’t concentrate, you can’t watch TV, you can’t get anything done. In the end you get up and leave the house – do something to keep you occupied and away from the noise.

That is what my life is like, living with Complex PTSD every single day. My smoke alarm. Or my car alarm, is going off all the time.

But this was so much more useful information than “why not try some colouring”. No it didn’t solve the problem or provide me with a solution to make it go away. But it explained to me why I was feeling the way I did. And more to the point – instead of suggesting distracting and not having the feelings at all like I’ve always been told to do – the suggestion was feel it.

Now the idea of feeling fear, and sitting with it, invokes even more fear within me. This isn’t going to be an easy ride. And I’m angry that I have to do it because of things other people have done to invoke fear in me in the past.

My therapist yesterday explained that all of this fear feeling is a good thing. I’m not using dissociation to blank everything out. It means that doing therapy is useful for me. But it doesn’t mean its easy. She likened it to climbing a mountain – its never straight up and there are ups and downs and obstacles. At the moment I’ve kind of gone down into a bog – its in a bit of a dip and I can’t really see out of where I am now, and I’m making massive efforts to take steps forwards but I’m not moving anywhere. But I’m still taking those steps. I could stop and go back – but I’d still be on a mountain. Or I can carry on, eventually I’ll be out of a bog and have a bit of a better view of the path just travelled and the road ahead. But for now I’m just stuck trudging through the bog. With a bear chasing me.

Nice.