Everywhere I go I find myself a new trigger,

I cannot find any lasting peace,

I sit in my house and hide from the digger.

They follow me into the night,

I hide under the covers in terror,

As some drunk starts a fight.

They appear in the kitchen,

I see the glistening knife,

The one that made a stitch in.

They come with me outside,

Terrorising behind my eyes,

The crowds and loud noises make me hide.

I hear them in the bathroom,

I can’t breathe as they surround me,

I need to hide inside a tomb.

I feel them in the car,

The world saturates,

As I’m drawn into the black noir.

The triggers come and go,

I still breathe,

and sink deep into the low.


This poem covers my triggers, it’s a very hard topic to cover as I haven’t identified them all yet, and a part of me feels like I shouldn’t cover it until I know every single thing that triggers me. The triggers I do know about are night, hospitals, crowds, loud noises, knives, the bathroom, baby loss, abuse, rape, and fighting.

I am still trying to navigate through them over fifteen years later, from my childhood abuse loud noises where my trigger and its stayed throughout my adulthood. A part of me feels defeated by my triggers, but a small part of me feels proud for still trying to fight, I may not have them all figured out, some days they may take over me, but I still manage to get up.

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