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.