My self-isolation started before the days of the pandemic. It was way before the world had come to the term of social distancing. I had welcomed this self-imposed isolation along with its chillness and darkness with open arms. It has become my protective bubble, shielding me from the crazy elements. I do enjoy living in silence and solitude. There were simply too much noise and interference in my life. I need the space for my healing.
Occasionally, arrows of trigger aimed for me, puncturing the bubble that would leave me in flight and freeze mode. There is nothing that I could do at those moments of terror, being incapable of fighting back. Wait for it to pass was all I could muster. They came bearing personal attacks, intrusion of boundaries, and judgments worsening the depression.
Zoning out, oblivious to the world as I tried to recompose myself and then trying in vain to fix the damages. The cycles repeating no matter how I tried to avoid them including severing all kinds of social communication. Some people just couldn’t help themselves but violate life of others and they are just too good at making others feel bad. I’m not sure what do I call these people except that they are one of the triggers as my psychiatrist has recognized and noted. They are the demon in flesh and blood.
