Attack of the Killer Birds: A PTSD Story
Most people who know me, or follow me on social media even, know that I am terrified of birds. It's not just some small fear. If you have witnessed me have a close encounter with a bird, then you know it's a paralyzing, deep fear that creates an extremely dramatic reaction. You would literally think I was dying. It has been a joke most of my life, this weird thing about me that people find hilarious and odd. It IS hilarious and odd. My fear is ridiculously illogical. What most people do not know though is that it is, like most illogical fears people have, based in trauma.
When I was about 5-8 years old, my family lived out in the country. While we were living there we found many animals in the fields and creek beside our yard. I remember finding baby mice, a copperhead snake, watching the groundhogs, and yes, of course, the birds. A family of barn swallows (did you know they nest in families? they do.) made their nice little mud nests not in the old pig barn beside the house, or in the old big tractor shed behind the house, but directly on our front porch. Every morning, on our way to school, mom would have to take turns running my little sister and I to the car because these crazy demon birds are so territorial and brave that they would swoop their little bodies down toward us like tiny little dive bombers, ready to attack and defend their nest. In their defense, they were probably so angry because my mom kept knocking all their little nests down with a broom, but they just kept on rebuilding, and dive bombing.
As I have grown older, I have often looked back and wondered why on Earth of all the things in my life, those little birds were what scarred me so badly that I reacted to a bird flying anywhere close to me as if it were a kamikaze pilot about to attack. Then, I learned about projection. You see this house we lived in, it was the nicest house we had ever lived in. It is in this house where I remember my most vivid memories of my childhood at home. For the most part, they are happy memories. My dad, who struggled with his mental health and addiction his whole life, was sober for most of the time we lived there. It is the only happy times I ever remember truly having with my dad. But, unfortunately, those happy times didn't last long. My dad started not showing up at home for days at a time. I remember sitting on the porch of our house with my mom, her crying, not really saying anything, but knowing we were waiting on and worried about dad. I remember the screaming and crying and threats and phones being ripped from the wall for fear of police being called. What I don't remember during all of that is how I felt. You see, at this age, I was already pretty good at repression. I have already told my story about sexual abuse, it started at a young age, and this domestic violence from my father wasn't the first I had experienced, only the most I remember. So during this short period of my life, all that fear that I was holding in got put on those birds. I couldn't be afraid of my daddy, that didn't make sense to my little mind. I couldn't be afraid of the people who were hurting me, they loved me, they cared for me, and they were who I could trust; those birds though.... little tiny demon kamikazes.
It was when I realized all of this that I started wanting to learn how to get over my irrational fear of birds. I bought chickens. I like my chickens, but I still do not want to pick them up, and I do not want them to fly at me, or run at me. They do. I can handle it, but I don't like it. I may always have this irrational fear of a small flying creature attacking my head with it's tiny beak, but it's less dramatic than it was, and I understand it more. It sure isn't the birds' fault that I put all of those very real, very scared feelings on to them. I like to tell this story, though, because it is a simple and understandable portrayal of many different aspects of having mental illness, PTSD in particular.
Psychological projection is a defense mechanism used when we are feeling, thinking, or having what we consider undesirable thoughts and place them on someone (or in this case something) else. It's the whole "cheaters are afraid their spouse is cheating", "liars believe everyone is dishonest" deal. Whatever bad feeling or thought you have....you place it on someone else like its their fault, or they are the ones who are doing the bad thing. Being aware of your own thoughts and feelings helps to keep this in check. This is one of the most common ways a hurt person can hurt those they love. Our wounds bleed on those who love us when we can't separate our emotions from theirs. Projection is a side effect of repressed emotions. If we do not let ourselves feel the bad things, if we don't acknowledge the bad being done, or are in denial of the bad things we may be doing, we will project all that ugly onto others.
Projection isn't the only thing that this story of the scary birds has taught me about coping with mental illness. The irrational fear I felt when Matt and I were cleaning out a chicken box and a tiny little blue bird flew out of the box and hit my knee was the most ridiculous I have felt in a long time, but the fear was REAL. The bird was tiny! It was gone in an instant. Yet, I ran and screamed and even fell on the ground frozen in fear of this silly little thing that I could have easily stepped on. Each time a bird enters into my "scary zone" a little piece of the fear I felt as a child, the fear I repressed for so long, comes out. I'm not REALLY afraid of that bird. My body isn't responding to it's horrifying little wings and razor-sharp beak, it's reliving the fear I never let out. I revert to a scared little girl, fearing for not only her own safety but her mother's, father's, and sister's safety as well. The birds have given me a way to view the stress responses I have when I am triggered. I understand them in the sense of the birds, where I may not understand my reactions and triggers in other areas of my life yet. I use the birds like a comparison chart. If I have an over-dramatic reaction, I know I have been triggered in some area of my life. I can keep from panicking or projecting by trying to analyze the situation. It takes practice, but I am learning.
I hope the bird story helps you, too. I hope it can give you some perspective. Whether you are a person who also suffers from PTSD/cPTSD or you know someone who does, I hope it gives you clarity on how this type of disorder can effect a person's life. PTSD can be debilitating. If I can project onto birds, then I know there are people who have projected on to similar every day things. I hope you can see your fears for what they truly are, and face them. If nothing else, I hope this inspires someone to help others, to get help, or to just support the one you know who may need it.
Having chickens is a small victory for me. The big victory is helping others with my story. 🙂
