Scared FIT-less
The Visit Box journey God has me on, has healed many areas of my life. Trying to create a business after the loss of my dad is so emotionally hard. However, God reminds me of my strengths and His love through my weaknesses. One area of my life is my mental health in the physical health world.
Triggers, sometimes referred to as a stressor, is an action or situation that can lead to an adverse emotional reaction. Trauma triggers are triggers that remind you of a past trauma. Many people recognize the trigger, and avoid it (go a different route from a past accident) or find ways to cope with the trigger.
My triggers are many, but I have them in a world I loved since I was a little girl. My dad and I had a fond love of fitness since his first heart attack in his 40’s. Fitness was an amazing healthy outlet that he supported for me and always encouraged me in. However, as much as I loved it, the triggers made the fitness world very dark.
The trauma triggers had me scared FIT-less. They can keep me away from my goals and away from places I would thrive in.
One month after my dad died of sudden cardiac death, I had to renew my CPR certification for work. The dummy, the defibrillator caused me to tremble. I couldn’t talk, and I couldn’t answer the questions to pass the tests. I have been to this class dozens of times, and all I could see was my dad on the floor and question why I couldn’t be there to save him. The scenarios of ‘Annie, are you ok?” Call 911, ok put the stickies on for the defibrillator…stand back - ok we saved her. It made me absolutely nauseous. I left the class, and had to try again and again and finally passed two months later.
When I decided to focus on my fitness as a goal when The Visit Box was hitting big obstacles, I realized I needed to take my at-home workouts to the next level and join a gym. My dad always knew I would do a fitness competition again, and he would be right there to support me. However, he died before I hit that goal. So, with the grief and mourning I knew I had to get moving and get healthy. I entered a competition for the WBFF community to share my mental and physical health journey. Our gym down the street was nice and after my cardio I had to refill my water bottle. There above the cooler was the defibrillator. Of course, it needs to be there. It is protocol. I know this, I answered the questions, I know how to use it. But….from that day I went out of my way to get water at a cooler on another floor. I hated it, and therefore got lost in my thoughts and would end up sitting in the locker room.
I knew I needed community and I was excited to join a cycling studio. The workouts are great, and it’s a fun environment to complete an awesome workout. However, to enter the cardio room…to get to the bike to be a part of the class, I have to pass a defibrillator every time. There is no other way. I knew I could stand there and ask God all the questions that can not be answered. I can sit on the bench, I can get my stuff out of the locker, and go back to my in-home workouts. OR…I can go through that door. I can move past the fear, the trauma trigger, the pain and…ride. It has not been easy, but I have walked past the defibrillator and completed workouts and got the courage to go from the back row to the front row for my workouts. At some point, though, my dad will come to my heart on every ride. Some days it is a beautiful memory that brings joy, and some days it is a thought that brings sorrow. However, what I know is that my dad would be proud that I walk through the doors God opens. The trauma trigger of seeing a defibrillator reminds me that yes, it is something that can save a life. His heart stopped, but mine has not. I will continue to choose to keep going and his heart, my heart truly go on…in many ways.
If anyone has experienced trauma triggers, please reach out to a mental health professional, and you can become stronger and even better than before the trauma. You do not forget, but you forge forward with a strength that can only be created from the pain and sorrow endured.
