“Have a little fun, Lydia,” Lani encourages.
I sigh, knowing I can’t say no to them. Simone already knows what that sigh means and starts to get excited. “Yes! Okay, we have to get to class, but we’re totally getting you all dolled up tonight, Lydia! Ah! This is going to be so much fun!”
“Lord…what am I getting myself into?”
38
Bash
I’m rudely woken up this morning by Erik shaking me like he thinks I might be dead or something.
I groan, pushing his hand away. “What?”
I’m still trying to wake up when I hear Erik slap my alarm clock as it goes off. “Dude, you’ve hit snooze like seven times and are still out cold. It’s driving me insane.”
I try to rub the sleep out of my eyes and look at what time it is—It’s almost noon.How did I sleep in so late?I drag a hand over my face, feeling the ache behind my eyes from last night.
It’s not from what you think, though. It’s not from drinking. I’m sober, yet I still get hangovers. The hangovers just now come from the weight of my own mind. From the dreams that feel like they’re strangling me. From the thoughts that keep me up all night. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of footsteps in the hallway and the low voices of people talking…and I’m just here. Stuck.
“Sorry, man,” I tell him, trying to pretend like I’m okay so he doesn’t start worrying like he’s known to do when I fall into these moods. “My bad, long night studying and crappy sleep.”
I see Erik standing there,studying me out of the corner of my eyes.
“You’re good, though? Anything bothering you?”
I prop my hands behind my head, taking in a deep breath to steady my heart rate and the way my head feels dizzy. “Yeah, no…I’m good. Promise.”
“Mm, okay. Well, are we still meeting up for lunch today after class?”
Geez, I forgot I have class today. Matter-of-fact—I glance back over to my clock again—I have class in less than an hour.Crap.
“Um, yeah. We’ll all meet up and walk over to the dining hall or something.”
“Okay, cool. I’m heading out. I’ll see you later. Let me know if you need anything.”
I wave him off. “Okay, Mom. You don’t need to worry so much.”
I hear him laugh as he walks out of the room, and I let out a relieved breath once I’m alone. I lie there a little longer, trying to get my head together. It takes me a good minute to work up the energy to move, but I eventually pull myself out of bed, put on a clean shirt, grab my bag, and force myself to walk to my Clinical Psychology class.
The class fills with the smell of books and cheap, burnt coffee. I’m already in my seat when other students start to shuffle in and get comfortable, talking to the people around them, sliding laptops out, typing up quick notes, clicking pens—all sounds and movements my brain is too aware of right now. Sometimes I can get overwhelmed by the simplest things, especially when there are too many of those simple things happening all at once, making it hard to focus. I take another breath and drink some water, hoping it will ease some of the tension in my body. Not much helps though, so I do the only other thing that typically helps.
Please ease whatever triggers I’m dealing with today. Help me to focus on this class and what you want me to take from it. Show me ways to better understand why I’m feeling these things and ways to work through them and not give them power over my mind.
I slip out my laptop just as Dr. Hampton walks to the front of the room, writing on the board in big block letters:Trauma Responses: How the Body Remembers.
Without lifting my head, I look up at the ceiling with an annoyed expression.
Real funny, God. I didn’t mean slap me in the face with my own issues in class, man. I meant like, maybe just take them away without me having to do the work. I was just trying to use all the pretty prayer words, hoping you would take pity on a guy and do the rest.
I sit there, staring at those words on the board like they might as well have been written just for me.
“Today,” Dr. Hampton says, turning toward the class, “we’re going to talk about a topic that doesn’t get enough attention when it comes to psychology—the body as a witness to trauma. What we don’t realize is that the body does the same thing. The body stores the memories that it can’t release.”
My jaw tightens, and I try to rub it as I pull out my notebook for notes. It feels like she’s talking directly to me today.
“That means when someone experiences loss or trauma, it ingrains signals into their brain that it then uses to navigate life with. It completely changes and rewires them. It affects their nervous system and how they react to things in life.
The panic, the guilt, even the nightmares people can experience…they don’t just come from what happened. All of those things occur because the body and brain are trying to protect itself.
