What triggers trauma for you?

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Ouelis, I used to get a bit traumatized by parents being strict with crying, sad children and being mean to them to "discipline" them, saying mean things or using a mean tone of voice.


Roguetech, yes, I do have a bit left, but taking my s**t and doing productive creative happy things really does help.





I found it so dorky and unattractive the way it was phrased and toned when my mother yel;led at my dad for "wasting her ingredients" when he threw some pancakes she had made with jam in the trash thinking they were old rotting things or something. I found them both stupid little children who needed psychiatric help, her whining like it was the end of the world and a tragedy and him being stupid enough not to leave well enough alone and always throwing things out and expecting nobody to be hungry just because he was such a hardy soul and proud of it. And of course she wouldn't retrieve it from her OWN garbage bag which didn't have any AIDS-infected stuff because we aren't that kind of family, because perish forbid, DISEASES.


Another time when my mother burned a pizza she had bought at a little store in the subway station for me to have for lunch at school and she was so depressed and whiny but wouldn't let me have it because perish forbid, eating a burned pizza wpuld make me SICK, so I had to have disgusting sandwiches instead which of course I didn't eat.


When she whined about burning the toast and then threw it out and whined about "having to"... and she kept burning the toast... that's part of what made me start disliking her, or rather, what she did, when I was a little kid... another time she was sort of pressuring me to have honeydew with vanilla ice cream and I didn't like it much or want that much of it and when I stopped eating it, no, she was against putting it in the freezer I presume, or she assumed I wouldn't go back to it if the ice cream was melted, so in front of my eyes she dumped it into her disgusting non-recycler's garbage bag with newspapers and bones and s**t, and complained about having to throw out "all that honeydew". Other times she put too much on my plate and whined about me not eating all of it... I was sad about oranges rotting but my mother's whining made it even more horrible and how she put it in a dark garbage bag with garbage instead of just throwing them outside for the birds or something cheery, throwing them out into the light,you know? The phrase "waste of money", which she used, also traumatized me for some reason. It makes you go all stiff and that.


Then we went to this laundromat and I was traumatized by the amount youhad to put in just to wash your clothes! And dry them! When I found out they were heavy-duty and designed to take many loads I felt a bit better but when I saw people putting hardly anything in them it stiffened me up for some reason.


I don't hate people who whine any more. I was diagnosed with depression a few years after I was bitching online about my mother being whiny and boring and disturbing and disgusting, so I don't think that any more about her, just what made her like that.



for all this I blame my mother's depressive issues and my grandmother who never got over the Great Depression and would make me sit there and eat all my food off my plate and not let me leave the table until then... saying it broke her heart to throw away food or "throw it to the birds".

Me too.
Me too.
Me too.

Me too. It causes me severe distress.

That's not very nice.

I think he meant I have it, like a disease, but it can be helped, rather than me being it. But maybe I'm being a total sucker and looking for the best in everyone.


Another thing that traumatized me was when my father was looking for some wonderful spaghetti sauce they had made just the day before, and I wanted some too, but couldn't find it, and he was like, "don't tell me she threw it out." She found it dumped on top of other stuff in a bag of garbage hanging on the door! He got not just angry but sad-- sadness is a sign of defeat, a sign of "I'm not doing a damn thing about this, I'm just gonna leave it in there." I was annoyed with both of them, mostly with her. And the way she dumped it over the stuff in the garbage bag rather than a can traumatized me for some reason, and how she hadn't dumped it on the ground outside instead and how it wouldn't be so bad if she had, for some reason.


The flushing of food, rotten or not, down toilets also traumatized me! The thought that food and excrement could be mixed, or that good food eventually turns to excrement, I guess the thought that we all die and turn to disgusting dirt or sh***y sludge traumatized me. So of course the flush basins in morgues traumatized me for a while! How could someone's flesh become so foul that it had to be flushed? Was that our fate? To be flushed? How many brain cells get flushed by accident? Or on purpose? How many morgue attendants have "abused the convenience" of these basins (maybe even knowing they're on camera but unashamed of it)? Why don't they bury the sludge? I later heard that it goes into the public system and was even more grossed out! But when I learned that the stuff smells worse than sewage suddenly I found the idea of flush basins in morgues a very good idea and wanted one in my kitchen to get rid of rotten food, so there.

Spaghetti looks an awful lot like worms.

It's what almost triggered trauma in me. Worms.

The kind of explicit autopsy tables that have ditches around the edges, channels all over it, more than one drainhole or a huge drainhole, no plug, very high edges that would be like an elevated box rather than a table even with perforated grids added to it, all that s**t totally made my hair stand on end! Especially the porcelain ones and the tile ones, and especially the porcelain ones that have ditches and channels, and ESPECIALLY the porcelain TILE ones that have ditches and channels. They think they're being so hygienic but having a plain stainless steel one is way more hygienic than that! Porcelain stains or gets cracks that stuff gets into, tile gets stuff trapped between it if you don't be careful to scrub between it, channels in tile-covered tables even harder, lol. The ones with a lower rim around them are even more traumatizing to me, ironically! I don't know why.


Hey, who banned me? Why am I banned?

"mandatory group project"

"classroom participation grade" (AKA the "lets punish introverts for being who they are" grade)

"Are you going to be busy this weekend?" (means the person wants me to do some social thing)

"Quit making up excuses" (stated by someone after I try to explain my sensory and communication issues)

Ah, yes. How can I foget?

That plus public speaking.

Walking past construction workers and hearing comments or whistles.
Watching young Urban mothers yank their children around like rag dolls and shriek at them.
Entering a place of business and finding it crowded and loud, or long lines to stand in.
Entering a public restroom that STINKS, when you are desperate.
Hearing my oldest brother's voice on the answering machine.
Hearing sirens or helicopters repeatedly
Smelling cigarette smoke, or alcohol.