ii. hysteria

“Don’t be so picky about how you want your food,” my mother chides.

“I like my bacon crispy,” I say, as I fry the meat on the stove. “It’s just a preference.”

She’s livid. I see her cheeks flushed red. “You ungrateful child…get out! Get out of my house right now!” she shrieks. I know not to protest; she isn’t thinking straight. She continues to scream. “Get out now!”

I packed up my things to leave. “Ok, I’m leaving. Just give me a minute to grab my things.”

“Don’t come back here if you’re only going to cause me stress!” She storms away from the kitchen and into her bedroom.

I look at my father and he shrugs his shoulders. I quietly leave.

—

My therapist says complex trauma is the result of exposure to a series of traumatic events. She says because it started during the developmental years of my mother’s childhood, her brain is wired differently, affecting the formation of neural pathways. She says sometimes her brain’s alarm system will misfire causing her to overreact. She says it’s difficult to change. She says if my mom is Buddhist, perhaps seeking spiritual guidance from a monk will be more effective than therapy.

I tell her from what I understand, my family used to be more religious, but the gods were nowhere to be found when the war happened. They weren’t there when the genocide began. My family had to save themselves and these days my mother does not believe as deeply as she once had.

—

I can never predict what will trigger an episode. I can never tell when I’m walking on thin ice until it’s too late. Sometimes we can go months without any incidents. It often feels like playing a game of Minesweeper, but I’m not privy to the rules, and attempting to avoid the landmines has been my lifelong exercise in futility.