Triggered by Trump — living in fear on US soil
We must stand up defiantly to any dark or divisive acts, and look out for the most vulnerable among us. It is more important than ever.
George Takei — Tweet dated 9:47 PM – 8 Nov 2016
Saturday morning and I am on my way to one of my favorite activities possible — doing what we who have this privilege call “Z care” — spending the morning with my glorious little granddaughter while Mama works. At 18 months, she is charming, expressive, funny, tender, sweet, gorgeous…okay, so I’m a hopeless Nana. She and her older cousin, my almost 14 year old Sophia, are the very beat of my heart and the breath in my body.
Z and her parents live out by the water in the most lovely, quiet street on land I actually owned as a teenager. It’s a gorgeous drive and I travel it accompanied the the sweet strains of classical music from King FM 98.1 (Listen here) Seattle’s wonderful, listener-supported station.
Classical music calms my soul. If I’m stressed, it soothes me. If I’m scared, it comforts me. Of late, I’ve needed it more than usual — this Trump presidency has me triggered 24/7 and I am jumpier and more reactive than normal and that’s saying a bit. I have what appears to be C-PTSD (complex PTSD — Wikipedia on C-PTSD), which among other things, stems generally from severe, long term childhood abuse. I have almost all the symptoms and I lived through the very definition of the cause. Have I been diagnosed? Well, only by a clinical psychologist friend who said, after I described my symptoms, “Yup, classic case.”
That explains a lot.
I’m coming around a curve in the road and the howling, abrasive tones of the Emergency Broadcast System (EBS) rip through the sweet serenity of the music.
And my blood. Ran. Cold.
Normally, they announce that there will be a test of the EBS before running it. Not this time. The tones tore through my precious tranquility. My heart skipped a beat, then restarted with a thump I felt in my throat, the slither and sting of adrenaline coursing through my veins and raising the small hairs all over my body. Trump had just shelled Syria, an air base with Russians on it. Trump is scary for his own reasons. Putin is scary on a level even the vile, orange lamprey cannot match and he was sure he had Trump firmly under control. When one is a sociopathic, authoritarian, murdering monster, one does not react well when one’s minion misbehaves. Shelling an air base does qualify rather thoroughly as minion disobedience.
Those tones went off and I was terrified. In that chilling moment before the announcer came on and confessed that it had only been a test, I literally waited to hear that retaliation was on its way and that all I held dear were about to be slaughtered on the altar of a heartless narcissist whose motives were stated as outrage over gassed children but were far more likely to be a diversion from the vast numbers of his infestation with ties to Russia and proven acts of treason — including his own.
And y’know what? It worked. Suddenly the ever-so-easily distracted media is not discussing the Russia/Trump-and-his-Swarm connection. They aren’t saying a whole lot about nepotism, golf, the betrayal of elders, the poor, anybody in the LGBTQI community, sleeping wildlife — I could go on and on and on. He moved them right along with this ploy — and apparently killed more children while he was at it. Good job, you vile hypocrite. You distracted this ADHD nation at the cost of those lives. How many more kids will you have to kill to make us forget all of it?
No, I am not exaggerating.
Thing was, for that moment in my car, my C-PTSD wildly triggered by the tearing tones of the EBS test that I thought was real, I did not feel safe in this country, in this state, in this town, in my little blue car on a pretty road in the burgeoning springtime. Not only that, it felt very much like everybody I love was threatened — that death was likely on its way for all of us and I could not protect them. Not only that, I was going to die knowing that my fellow citizens put this monster in place and now would bear the burden of our deaths. Terror with an additional dimension of utter betrayal.
This was a test, but it could bloody well actually happen. He’s pissing off leaders of nuke-bearing countries right and left. He picks fights — often over Twitter — with people who are not amused and can do something about it. He doesn’t think he needs to learn anything about this job — he truly believes that simply being Donald Trump is enough. And when he gets bored or it’s all too much like work, he goes golfing at 3 million of our tax dollars a pop.
No, you arrogant dunce. It isn’t enough to just be The Donald. You don’t know a damned thing about much of anything, you elitist bastard, and we all know it.
We must not allow ourselves to be distracted. As a nation, we are known to have the attention spans of small, gauzy insects, but in this case, that could prove lethal. We must be attentive, on point and vigilant because he and his horde of cruel, corrupt, treasonous minions have every potential of being the death of us all.