Last night while laying in bed, racking my brain trying to figure out my trigger pulling up all my unpleasant memories it hit me. I have a fuzzy plush blanket that I put on my bed during the winter months. Something about that blanket is my trigger, which in itself is a little odd since while there is a traumatic memory associated with a fuzzy blanket it has nothing to do with my rape(s). I’m not sure how my brain connected the two, but the important thing is that I folded up the blanket, put it away and had a peaceful nights sleep awaking without any sort of anxiety.
Oddly enough I actually remember the details of the sheets both times I was assaulted. Kind of a weird thing to hold onto so many years later, but the details remain. The first time being at home in my own bed, I had just purchased some new sheets. This was back in the day when the Jersey tee shirt sheets were first becoming popular, and I’d found the most garish but totally awesome deep blue sheets with stars and moons scattered across them in no real pattern.
The second time, I remember the sheet pattern if only because it struck me as odd even before being assaulted. White sheets with little blue sailboats. Something about them seemed juvenile, innocent, and completely out of place where I found myself sleeping on them. After the assault I never saw the sheets themselves again. The pillowcases remained, but the matching sheets disappeared or got lost in the shuffle somewhere. Or more likely I subconsciously avoided them.
At any rate I’m glad I figured it out, disappointed that I have to get rid of one of my most cozy blankets, but glad I figured it out.