My Biggest Trigger Became the Hottest Meme, So I Conquered It
As you know, trigger warnings are exceedingly common to see these days. You see them on a black slide before swiping (or not swiping) to an Instagram post showing police brutality, a Netflix show that contains sexual violence, and you’re about to see one a few lines from now in this very blog post. They can be super helpful for people whose nervous systems can't handle seeing or reading commonly activating things, but what do you do when your worst trigger is a character from a popular kids movie that goes viral 20 years after its debut?
Reader beware: Below is a very sad story detailing some of the physical abuse I endured as a child that resulted in C-PTSD. I also share things I have done to cope with and eventually move past my trauma. It has a happyish ending, but if this is too hard of a topic for you at this time please skip reading. I totally understand and want you to do what is best for you.
In Spring 2001 my family and I all went to see Shrek at the movie theater. I was 11 and super proud of my outfit and how I had styled my hair, half up/half down with little space buns, and I vaguely remember there being some glitter gel involved. Lizzie McGuire was all the rage and I felt like an icon as we walked through the theater. I was super bubbly and excited to show off my new look when we ran into two popular girls from my grade in the lobby. As I chatted with them I felt confident and cool for the first time in my life.
On the car ride home my parents were angry with me. They “didn't like the way I acted” at the movie theater and were critiquing me the whole way home. I zoned out and sang a song in my head, staring at the passing trees out the window. As soon as we got home I ran to the basement to switch my laundry. If I finished my chores that would be one less thing I could get in trouble for. The next thing I knew my mom was coming toward me, saying we weren’t done with our conversation. I don’t remember what I said back, but she attacked me. Hearing the commotion my dad came down the stairs… and the next thing I remember is him sitting on my chest, hitting me repeatedly. My mom was behind him holding me down by my legs. I had no escape. I screamed for help, hoping they would stop if one of my sisters came. When one of them started coming down the stairs she was yelled at to go back up, and she did.
I don’t remember how it ended, I was already very good at dissociating by this point in my life. The next day was Monday and I went back to school as usual, but I was different. I never wore my hair in space buns again, hated the movie Shrek, and I definitely did not feel cool or bubbly.
From that time forward whenever I saw something reminiscent of Shrek I had vivid flashbacks. First I would see myself bent over in front of the dryer and my mother coming at me. Then my chest would tighten, like I was suffocating. My body remembered struggling as a little 11 year old, trapped under the weight of my father’s 6’3” frame, pinning me down to the cold cement floor as he straddled and hit me. Tears streaming down my face, desperate, and trying to figure out what I had done that was so bad, I was a good kid. Wasn’t I?
My mind would replay these images over and over, and then shift to other times they abused me, and replay those over and over too. The time I got home from a Dinner Theater field trip, when my furious father kicked me repeatedly as I was crying and crumpled in the corner, yelling that I was a “dirty rotten animal” I escaped and ran down the driveway in just my dress and tights, but it was dark and raining and I had nowhere to go but back inside. The time he called me a smart ass and smacked me on the side of my head so hard my ear drum burst. My ear was ringing for weeks and sensitive to certain sounds for years, but I just told everyone my dancer sister had kicked me in the head by accident. I could go on, but, you get the idea.
It was a vicious cycle that plagued me for YEARS. Each time I was triggered, whether it was from Shrek or something else, I would totally shut down. For a long time the only ways I knew to cope were to drink a lot of booze, have sex or smoke weed, all of which mostly just made matters worse…
So when Shrek made his comeback a couple years ago, it felt like the universe was playing a mean joke on me. Everywhere I looked there was Shrek and his ugly stupid face. Shrek memes, Shrek the musical, Halloween costumes, quotes, collabs… who wasn’t talking about Shrek!
About a year and a half ago I told my ex boyfriend what would happen to me when Shrek came up, and that it would be a great help if he could assist in keeping Shrek stuff away and stop quoting his favorite lines from the movie. He knew all about my trauma and said he understood and promised to keep his Shrek references to a minimum. He would occasionally slip up and say a line from the movie which was annoying, but he would apologize and I would forgive. It was only a couple months later that I walked into our apartment and there in the middle of our living room floor were Shrek and Donkey, in the form of two stuffed dog toys. He had “forgotten” :(
I know it isn’t anyone else’s responsibility to change for my triggers, but it felt like a slap in the face. It was one thing to have to deal with Shrek on social media and out in the world, but seeing that he had consciously spent money on toys that he brought into our home really hurt.
But I also knew I couldn't control everyone, the ogre is IN and there is no avoiding it! Over time and after a hell of a lot of coaching and self help, I began to see Shrek as more of a test than a trigger. Of course the universe would make Shrek so popular, being the thing that I wanted to avoid the most. But it wasn’t a mean trick, it was to get me to face Shrek and my trauma from abuse head on so that I could move on. Eventually I realized that I really was in control of my reactions, and each time I saw a Shrek meme my fears became easier to move through and beyond.
Inner child work has been very healing for me. I show Little Mel that I love her every day by treating myself with kindness, grace and with safety in mind, ALWAYS. I spend a lot of time doing her favorite things; exploring in nature, being with animals and people who make me feel good, making art, eating chocolate and having dance parties. Another hugely helpful practice was visualizing my adult self going down into the basement and rescuing little Mel, telling her parents off and taking her upstairs where I help her fix her little space buns. I then whisk her away in a baby blue Geo Tracker and stop for chocolate milkshakes before heading to our new home together (which looks just like Matilda’s nice teacher’s cottage in the movie). I made that traumatized little girl feel like she had someone she could count on, and that someone is me.
After many months of doing these practices and many others, I miraculously (it honestly feels that way) got to the point where I could redirect my thoughts to other things after being triggered and didn't need to do the visualization. I tell myself something along the lines of “thank you for trying to keep me safe but now is not the time for this, let’s think about _____ instead.” It takes a lot of willpower, but I can do it. Sometimes I also need a change of scenery or a serious crying sesh with my cat, Poppy, or play time with my dog, Harvey, both of whom are powerful healers and never let me down. One thing I have learned for sure is I can’t rely on anyone other than me to help me through these times. No matter what someone outside of me does, it doesn't have a lasting impact on my inner world.
Another important thing I did was to create a new memory with Shrek. I actually threw my inner child and myself a Shrek watching party. I went to the grocery store and got all of Little Mel’s favorite snacks and watched the movie I swore I would never watch again. And you know what, I didn’t hate it. It’s not my new favorite or anything, but I did laugh and come on, it is a ridiculous movie. I also realized that, low and behold, I became Shrek on the day I saw it, hiding my true self underneath the onion layers of trauma. After rewatching the movie I felt relieved. It was never actually Shrek I hated, it was the stories my brain attached to him, and now that I had worked through my pain I have set Shrek free and come to a more peaceful place. I definitely still feel some pain when I’m confronted with Shrek, but I am very well equipped to deal with it and give myself the space and care that I need.
I am also so proud of myself for finally being able to write and share this story. Never in a million years did Little Mel, or 30 year old Mel for that matter (I am now 32), think I would one day be the kind of person who is stable and sure enough of herself to share openly on a blog. Thank you to my chosen family, friends, coaches, teachers, select supportive family members, and whoever you are for reading this and witnessing my growth.
I love you!
