Trigger Warnings: panic attacks and sexual abuse.
7:00am- I am walking down the street in the neighborhood and I see someone by a tree. All of a sudden, I feel frightened and helpless. I need to get out of here. He wants to touch me. I need to escape. I am running. I jump into a car and start driving. I am trying to back up but he’s coming. I can’t get out. I am stuck. He is coming to touch me. He is coming to use my body. I can’t escape… I wake up.
7:01am- My heart is racing. What just happened? The dream runs through my head. I check the time. It’s not time to get up yet. But anxiety courses through my body. I back into the corner of my bed and curl up in a ball, holding onto Kitty. I have to go back to sleep. I pull the covers over me but I keep fidgeting my feet. I’ll be okay. It was only a dream this time.
7:15am- My thoughts are still going. I am still curled up in a ball. I don’t feel safe. None of my muscles will relax. Might as well take Journey out to distract myself.
7:30am- Journey and I come in. He still has puppy energy so we play. Tug is his favorite.
9:00am- I head to the bathroom to shower. I take off my clothes. I feel vulnerable. He touched… no. He… no. I try to use my arms to cover myself up. It’s okay, you’re safe. But I don’t feel safe. Just get into the shower. I step into the shower.
9:45am- I finish up my morning routine. I brush my teeth. Spit. I wash my face, then my hands. I dry my hands so I can open my pill bottles. I take my anti-depressants. Okay, I am ready for the day.
10:00am- Time for breakfast for Journey and I. I don’t feel like eating anything, but I need to eat. I grab a yogurt and the milk, and mix them so that I can drink it because that’s easier. Journey wants to play.
11:00am- Time to run some errands. I need to go to the pet store to pick up more training treats for Journey, so I put him in his crate and head out the door.
11:57am- I am looking at the training treats, trying to decide what to get Journey. A man is standing near me. I don’t think he’s looking at the treats… my mind starts to race. What is he doing? I try to stay focused on the treats. Why is he so close to me? I need to move away. I can’t move away. I need to move away. It’s okay, you’re safe. No I need to get away. My legs freeze up. I am not safe. I can’t move. Training treats. This place is not safe. I am rocking back and forth. I need to move. I can’t move. I need to move. I stare at the ground but I’m watching out of the corner of my eye. Time stops. I am frozen.
12:01pm- He moves away to a different aisle now. He’s watching me. I am not safe. I can’t see him but that doesn’t mean I’m safe. I tell myself I can move my feet. They feel like heavy bricks. I move as fast as I can, but I’m moving in slow motion. I’m vulnerable. There are women at the front. That’s where I need to go.
“Excuse me?” Is someone talking to me?
“Excuse me, do you need some help ma’am?”
I look around. A worker was talking to me.
“I’m just getting some treats” I tell her.
“Sorry ma’am, I can’t hear you. What was that you said?”
I muster as much energy as I can to say “I’m just getting some treats…” I look behind me. WHERE IS HE? I need to keep myself safe. I don’t want him to touch me. I go back to the treats but I can’t focus on the treats. I just have to survive until it’s over, until he’s gone…
12:14pm- The man leaves. I feel my left leg aching, bringing my mind back to where I am. Damn it. I had tensed up all my muscles again, and for some reason it’s my left leg that always hurts. I remember the phrase my therapist always says, “what can you do in this moment?” I take a breath in and a breath out. Why am I like this? Frustration boils but I need to remind myself what I need to do. Breathe in. Breathe out. But I don’t want to focus on my breath. I’m just too frustrated, so I don’t listen. Just get the treats. I see some cute cookies for Journey.
“I’ll take three.”
12:20pm- As I climb into my car, I wipe my watering eyes on my sleeve and realize that my shirt is wet. I look down to find sweat all over my shirt and notice the sweat trickling down my body. And then I get angry. Angry about everything that just happened, angry at what made me like this. So I pull out my phone and start an email to get my feelings out…
“Dear Bruns…”
12:52pm- I arrive back home. I should probably eat. But nothing sounds good. Nah.
1:30pm- I bring Journey inside after playing fetch outside for a little bit. He’s doing really well with the “leave it” command and “come” command. He loves playing with tennis balls but still gets distracted by the leaves. We need to work on that.
But for now, it’s nap time for him. Journey curls up under my desk while I listen to music, answer emails, tutor math...
3:00pm- Journey needs to eat. I take him out first. We come inside and I fill his bowl.
“Journey, sit.” I wait 30 seconds.
“Okay.”
He eats.
I should probably eat too. But nothing sounds good. I need to eat before weightlifting. Fine. But I don’t want to make anything. I head to the pantry and find a jar of soup. That’s easy to make. I take it off the shelf and warm it up.
Then my siblings come down the stairs. Alex goes straight to the X-box. Abbey is making TikToks. I’m sitting right behind where she’s dancing, so I make funny faces. Abbey and I watch them together and laugh before she deletes them.
3:30pm- Time for our daily walk. I put training treats in my bag and put Journey on his leash. We head outside and start working on the “heel” and “focus” commands. He’s only 5 months old but he’s doing really well.
4:24pm- We get back home, and it’s time to get ready for weightlifting practice. Let’s see… what should I wear? I go through all my clothes… shorts, crop tops, leggings, sports bras, big t-shirts, joggers… I don’t want to wear any of those… I go through all my clothes again… I wish I could stay in my big sweats. But I’d get too hot. Fine. Big t-shirt and leggings.
I head to the bathroom to change. I hate changing; I feel vulnerable and just want to cover up my body. Big t-shirts help.
4:45pm- “Crate.” Journey runs to his crate, and I give him a bone. Then, I head out and get in the car. That reminds me of the errand I ran earlier. Why did I freak out? I try to focus on the road. I don’t want him to use me. He used me. I’m just an object, he used me. I taste blood and realize I’ve been chewing on my lip, it brings me back to the present. I turn up my music.
5:15pm- I get to the gym, warm up and stretch. People have already started moving around weights. I focus on my stretching as I watch someone snatch 100kgs. They’re good. I have power snatch doubles today, so I warm up my snatch with the barbell. I am pretty anxious but I try to focus on my lifts.
5:46pm- I have two more sets of power snatches left. My coach tells me to warm up my clean and jerks afterwards since I’ll be doing clean and jerk singles.
5:59pm- I start adding weight for my clean and jerk singles. My shoulder is bothering me a little bit. I try to brush it off and just focus on my lifts.
6:11pm- I am at working weight now. I put my hands in position and I set up for my clean. I focus on my legs as I pull and bring myself under the bar. I stand up. I set up for my jerk. As I jump and press out, pain shoots through my shoulder, the doctor appointments flash through my head. Fuck. I stand up and then drop the weight. My heart starts racing and anxiety starts coursing through me again. I go an sit down and try to calm myself. The doctor… no, please no… I need to get up. I can’t move. I NEED TO MOVE. I can’t stand…
6:20pm- “Hey...”
“Hey...” Is someone talking to me? It brings me back for a second.
“Are you okay?” my coach asks.
“Yeah… I’m okay,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
I don’t answer.
“Why don’t we go to the lobby and you can tell me what’s going on.”
Go to the lobby. Go to the lobby. Okay I just need to go to the lobby.
I fight to get myself up. I head to the lobby.
I need to get out of here. It feels like I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here. I am not safe. I am not safe. I don’t want him to touch me. I am not safe. Someone help me please. I am crying and panicking at the same time. Where can I go? I don’t know where to go. I just need to get out. Someone get me out. Someone protect me. I don’t like it. I don’t want him to touch me…
6:27pm- “You’re 20. You’re 20.” I hear my coach talking to me and it brings me back. My face is all wet from my tears. I can’t focus. I’m tired.
“I’m 20? I’m… I’m 20. I’m 20 okay.”
“Can you breathe for me? Here, what’s something that calms you down?”
“Something that calms me down?” I mumble. I try to think. “Oh my phone… a video… it’s on my… I have… I’ll listen… my earbuds.” My mind keeps blanking as I grasp for words.
“You have a video on your phone?”
Yeah that’s it. I nod. “Grounding video,” I tell him.
“Okay, you listen to that, I’ll get your bag and then go back to coaching.”
I nod.
6:59pm- I turn off my music. I calmed down but my body aches from tensing up and shaking. I am tired and I just want to go home and hug Journey. I tell the coach and head to my car. I drop my bag into the passenger seat as intense anger flows over me. I try to do normal things but no matter how hard I try I can’t because he fucked me up. I know I need to lower the intensity of my anger or it’s not safe for me to drive, so I put on my music.
7:28pm- I get home and Journey greets me. I just sit down and he curls up in my lap with his tail wagging like crazy. He sniffs at me and then licks around my eyes. And then I just hold him until I feel safe.
7:50pm- I bring Journey inside after taking him out to the bathroom. It’s time for more training. Tonight, we’re working on “deep pressure therapy” (DPT) and scratching interruption. He doesn’t quite understand DPT yet, but he is starting to get used to positioning himself over any available part of my body to ground me when I am panicking.
8:23pm- Time for dinner with the family. I head downstairs after changing back into my big clothes. I smile at the table, eat my food, and listen to my parents talk. The classic “how was your day” goes around. We all answer “good.”
9:01pm- I am exhausted. I head up to my room with Journey and sit in the corner of my bed while he snuggles at my feet. I grab my laptop and begin to write…
“Dear Bruns,
I am so tired but I don’t feel good still. I panicked again. I don’t mean to, but I just do. I was having intrusive thoughts earlier because I remembered I was scared at the store, and then that made me think about the doctor appointments. I really want to sleep but I’m still really anxious and I wish I could give you a hug. This is too hard sometimes. I don’t think I’m going to get better because I get really scared and I am embarrassed and I don’t want to remember what happened. I’ve got CPT (cognitive processing therapy) tomorrow and I hope it doesn’t make my stomach upset and my head hurt and my legs shake like it did last time. And I’m trying really hard not to hurt myself so that I don’t fail out of CPT again. I don’t feel safe and I’m afraid to go to bed because I keep having bad dreams and I’m sorry that I drag you into all my shitty days but I remember that you and Mrs. Bruns love me very much. And sometimes I don’t know how you love me because I’m all messed up but thank you for being here for me. Journey just looked up at me I think I need to calm myself down and then I’ll try to go to sleep but if I can’t, I’ll paint.
Hugs.”
9:53pm- I take Journey out and then go brush my teeth and get ready for bed. I could take my nighttime medication, but I feel fatigued from the intense anxiety during the day, so I don’t think I’ll need it. Journey and I head to our room and I sit next to him to brush him out for the night. It usually calms both of us down. But I am still a little nervous about sleeping, so I pull out my journal and write down some lingering thoughts from the day to Mr. Bruns.
10:55pm- I close my journal and set my alarm for 9am (even though I never need it). I turn out the light and hope I sleep.
Note to the reader: I am one of over 500 people that has been sexually abused by the former gymnastics doctor Larry Nassar. And while many people know of the magnitude of destruction that this man caused, it is not the only cause of my PTSD. I also have PTSD symptoms that are related to college gymnastics as well as the coach rejecting me from the team. Both events have been traumatic, even though people assume one is worse. My symptoms are similar, but instead of abuse, the trigger is gymnastics. That is to say, we do not have control over what is traumatic to us. Rather, our bodies and minds react in a way that we cannot control. So, if you have experienced trauma, your trauma IS valid, whether it be losing a sport or sexual abuse.
By Holly Basile.
