Before figuring out that I had been Satanically abused, I had no idea I was experiencing flashbacks or that I was being triggered. I had no names for these things, and I either thought they were normal (sure, everybody thinks this way!) or that they were weird thoughts of my sick mind. I had no reason to think that they were a voice from the past, and so I struggled to make the present explain what was going on with me. I couldn’t work with the flashbacks because I didn’t know they existed.

With the realization of past Satanic abuse came a whole new vocabulary. Feeling-flashback, (emotional memories) acting out (behavioral flashbacks), body memory, dissociation, compartmentalization, fragmentation, losing time, trance. Each word or phrase helped build an intellectual framework for what I was experiencing. It was immensely reassuring to have this new vocabulary: it suggested that there was a cause, a reason, for my symptoms. It also suggested that others had had similar experiences, and that they could be talked about. Even read about in real books!

Some of the words helped me identify what was happening as it happened. When the swimming pool smelled of perfume or beer, it was obviously a smell flashback. Seeing dead bodies along the side of the road was a visual flashback. Staring into space, with words just out of reach, was an example of dissociation. These things were all concrete and easily connected to the past. It wasn’t rocket science to figure out that nobody had poured beer into the municipal pool. Life made a lot more sense.

Unfortunately, the clarity of that phase didn’t last very long. My behavior and emotions were often confusing because I had no idea whether they came from the past or the present. Before, I had just assumed that they were a reaction to things in the present. I knew intellectually that something could “trigger” past feelings, but I didn’t know what my triggers were and I didn’t know what being triggered felt like. I didn’t know what being in a feeling-flashback felt like. Seemed like I didn’t know anything.

Slowly, I began to figure things out. If I remember correctly, the first trigger/feeling-flashback pairing I understood had to do with male authority figures. If one criticized me, I would immediately feel suicidal. That made sense, for men had the power in the cult I was abused by. I paid close attention to critical men and found that my heart felt like it stopped for a moment. Next the feeling-flashback came on quickly, rushing over me with full intensity. Generally emotions that were a response to present-day events were not preceded by heart-stopping terror. The emotions were faint at the beginning and then built up slowly to full intensity. And emotions that were in response to the present were not super-sized, even at their most intense.

Now I could identify triggers by how my body felt and I could usually identify flashbacks by how quickly the wave of emotion came over me and how intense it was. At first it took me a very long time to understand the sequence each time it happened, but with practice I could often get it within minutes.

For some reason, behavior-flashbacks are harder for me to catch. I know there is a trigger, but I cannot connect it to the behavior that follows. Perhaps there is a long interval between experiencing the trigger and doing something in response. Perhaps it’s because actions are thought to arise from free will in our society, while emotions are believed to be in response to something. For whatever reason, I am still struggling to understand what is going on.

Sometimes I feel like a detective, collecting evidence, comparing, placing things in sequence. Here’s another example involving men. I compared all the men I could think of that I had been attracted to. Most of them resembled each other in a few key ways, although a few, usually those I was less attracted to, were quite different. I assumed that the men I was drawn to resembled some key figure in my past and that I had been taught to be seductive and sexual with that man. Now I had the trigger – that great looking guy over there — and the behavior, flirting. I was acting out my relationship with that long-ago cult man.

While I was figuring all this out, I realized that I was using the word “trigger” to mean “catalyst.” An object, person, or thing in the present was catalyzing a memory, or part of a memory. It precipitated a flashback, the emergence of a memory into my present consciousness from where it had been lying dormant in my unconscious.

But other survivors were using trigger in a different sense as well. They meant words or hand signals that were used to activate a cult-implanted program. A tap on the shoulder might mean, “follow me” or a special handshake might mean, “start the suicide program.” (I‘m making these up, I think.) I started called this latter category cues, to help me differentiate between them and catalyst-type triggers. The stakes seem much higher with cues. Who cares if the swimming pool seems to smell of beer? It’s not life threatening. But being cued to obey a cult command; that’s a whole different story. The process of figuring out what the trigger is and what program it is connected to may be the same, but the amount of pressure and anxiety is ever so much greater.

I hope that some of these concepts and examples help you conceptualize your process and help built the framework for your healing, even if only in a small way.

Adapted from Survivorship Notes Vol. 9 No. 4

Angel kitty, with your fur so soft,
Dozing in the sun,
Purring on and off.
If you spoke English
I would open the door for you
And I would tell you
To run as far and as fast as you could
To some place with no people.
But you would just cry
Until someone let you back in.

Angel kitty, enjoy this last short day
For tonight you will be skinned
For that sadist’s pleasure.

It often happens that I find myself struggling with an issue that I thought I had completely worked through. I assume I have regressed – gone backwards in my healing – and that all the hard work I had done was for nothing. How could this happen? I thought I was doing things right, I thought I had been thorough, I thought I had gone over and over that territory and laid my monsters to rest. Guess not.

Here are the same old monsters, invading my dreams, nipping at my heels, making it hard to get out of the house and do the routine things I have done a million times before. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I am down on myself, because obviously I did something wrong, or I wouldn’t be in this place. It will never get better. It’s hopeless.

Slowly I realize that this time is not exactly the same as the other times. Maybe it’s less intense. Maybe there’s a new piece of information, a new monster waiting to make itself be known. Maybe this reaction was triggered by a holiday and I have completely forgotten that it happens every year. But this year the reaction clears more quickly. It is different.

The differences are so subtle that they hardly seem to matter. The change is so tiny, hardly noticeable, and it feels like I am right back at square one. For a few days I wallow in despair, self-blame, and self-pity.

Gradually, though, the little change gets incorporated into me, whatever “me” is. The black cloud lightens and I feel somewhat peaceful. Something, I’m not quite sure what, has been laid to rest, and I feel more self-accepting. I rest a bit until the next monster peeks out and demands attention.

When I was working as a social worker, I discovered I had a six-week learning cycle. I would start to feel dissatisfied with myself and critical of everything I was doing. I felt I was no good, untalented, and that even if I wasn’t actively harming anybody, I certainly wasn’t helping anybody. That was my LICSW monster coming into my office.

Since there is always something new to learn in social work, pretty soon I would be all excited about some new idea I had come across. Tentatively, I’d try it out in my work. I practiced applying it and after a while I felt I had mastered it. It became part of my repertoire and I felt good about myself and my work. For a while everything flowed smoothly, without effort. It was almost like dancing. And then, just about six weeks from the start of the cycle, I would start to get crabby again.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t until I started writing this essay that I compared my healing process to my learning process. That information was sitting right there for fifteen years and I never saw it. Being aware of the similarities in the two processes is going to be very helpful (if only I can remember!)

I’m going to have to look and see if this healing cycle averages six weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised, since there is a major satanic holiday every six weeks. That will be interesting, but what is really important is that the burden of feeling inadequate, stupid, incompetent, blah blah blah, will be lifted. I’ll still feel that way, but I will know that’s what I feel, not what I am, and that I feel that way because I am ready to take on something new. Despair will be transformed into a signal that I am getting ready to grow and become more competent!

Perhaps this isn’t just my weird way of doing things. Perhaps it’s a pretty normal human response to growing pains. I remember how irritable my kids were just before they made some huge change, like standing, walking, talking, riding a bike, dating. They were so impatient to get where they almost were that they couldn’t be civil for a minute. And then, when they finally got to do what they had been working so hard to master, they sweetened up and were all sunny and pleased with life.

It feels so good to discard the old tapes that say I am defective and will never be like other people and to realize that I am fine, I am normal, and I have been fine all along. I have just been lied to, and I’m not going to buy those lies any more.

Published in Survivorship Notes, 
Vol. 8, Nos. 6/7