Istanbul · Trauma

is it safe?

just a few hours after my last blog, written very early this morning, we found Tommy outside our kitchen door, bleeding. his throat has been almost torn out. for the last few hours we have been trying to feed him, we made him a little bed in the kitchen, and tried to comfort him as best we could without touching him. damn the mange!

we know who attacked him. Saucy the Slut has another boyfriend, a pantheresque beast who came back to try and hurt Tommy some more. oh, Tommy bled so much that he even vomited. poor creature!

when we got him inside, i was sitting with him and just talking to him trying to get him to relax, but every noise made him start. the construction outside, steve flushing the toilet, any sudden move. i wanted so bad to just cuddle him but he was still bleeding quite profusely and was just so terrified. every muscle in his body was tense.

he reminded me of how i used to be a few years back, after wendy’s murder. when even an unexpected ‘ding!’ on the computer would be met by a small scream and my heart would race. loud noises, forget about it. i spent the first year after wendy’s death in such a state of heightened awareness (otherwise known as post traumatic stress disorder or PTSD) that the constant release of adrenaline caused me to develop even worse physical problems. i feel so much for Tommy and after this physical trauma, it is hard to know what to do. i am worried right now because he went off to pee or do his business, i think, but he hasn’t come back yet and i loathe the thought of him returning with graver wounds.

before he left this last time, i saw that he was feeling safe in the house. he was curled up and sleeping soundly. his heartbeat had slowed to a sleeping rate even, i could see it through his gaunt ribs. but i wonder if sometimes safety even frightens us. i wonder if he doesn’t want to get used to being safe because he doesn’t know what kind of committment we could make to him. if we will continue to give him a safe haven, or if we will abandon him like the ones who came before. it seems that sometimes we get comfortable living with fear, living in fear, and that fear becomes safer than taking a risk at letting one’s guard down to only be hurt once more, or that vulnerability hurting even more than before. i suppose we are all asking ourselves the question, is it safe?, and wondering when it truly is.

Thoughts?

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