My History Repeated Itself
- Simply Jelly Jam
- Aug 19
- 6 min read
Panic attack ensued.
After an irrationally emotional day and an unwanted panic attack, I wanted to share my experience, how I got through my irrational emotions, and my plans for the next time it happens, considering how my history repeated itself.
In case it's helpful, below are the main points covered in this post:
Preface
Three years ago, a simple question during jury duty triggered a forgotten memory that made me an emotional wreck. Potential jurors for a criminal trial were asked to share their own or someone they know experience with domestic violence or assault.
It was then that the memory of a loved one repeatedly beaten by their affair partner and threats I as a young child received threats to keep silent resurfaced in my mind. As I shared my story before a crowded room, I broke down and hyperventilated as I remembered more details.
My emotional breakdown caused the judge stopped everything to have the bailiff check to make sure I was alright. For several minutes, everyone's attention was on me. I was not alright. Not only did I remember a horrible part of my life that I forgot about for decades, but I lost my emotional cool in front of over ninety people (potential jurors, attorneys, person on trial, judge, bailiff, etc.).
I was so embarrassed by my emotional distress that I went to the restroom during breaks to have panic attacks. I could not even head home for over an hour after those who were not selected for the jury panel, me included, because I could not see or breathe well enough to drive.
You can read Struggling to Get Over a Triggered Memory for my more detailed emotional experience during my first jury duty service.
Three years later, I received my summons to participate in jury duty. I worried that it would be another domestic violence case. I started thinking about how to manage my emotions if history repeated itself. Dad assured me that the chances of me being considered for another criminal domestic violence case was slim.
History Repeating Itself
I went to the courthouse optimistic about not having a panic attack. I spent a lot of time mentally preparing for the possibility that I would be considered as a potential juror for a domestic violence or another type of criminal case, no thanks to a recent triggered memory from my childhood.
My confidence was high until the prosecutor started his presentation about domestic violence.
I mentally reassured myself that I was ready this time. I had many opportunities to discuss domestic violence and assault related events from my childhood in detail with others. I told myself that 'I got this.'
Overall, I believed that I managed my emotions well. A few tears fell as I remembered events from my past related to violence, abuse, and other sensitive things, but I believed that I wiped my tears quickly enough to redirect my focus onto the presentations.
This time around, they gave potential jurors the option to answer questions privately. So, when I was called on to share my experience, I informed them that I preferred to answer privately. A few other potential jurors answered the same way.
Every time we went to break, I listened as people who said they wanted to answer questions privately were called back into the courtroom. I was never called. It was not until I went into the restroom during one of the later breaks that I realized how red my eyes were.
It appeared that I did not do well controlling my tears and emotion. The attorneys, judge, bailiff, and everyone else facing the potential jurors clearly saw what I thought I hid well.
This explained a lot. During the day, I wondered why I was not called on to answer law-related questions during the day. At one point, the defense attorney called on everyone to ask their thoughts or knowledge about a judicial practice or something related. When he called on me last, he asked if I had cats.
Stunned by the non-serious question, I answered, "No." He responded with, "Good. They are the spawn of evil." He then continued with his presentation. It caught me off guard, but it was enough to make me chuckle. A lighthearted moment that temporarily helped me forget about the dark times of my past.
Afterwards
I was not selected to serve on the jury panel. When we were dismissed, I went to the restroom to regain control of my emotions. My eyes and nose were bright red. I looked like Rudolph high on some sort of substance that the normal reindeer population would not get close to.
It was not until I got into my SUV, my sanctuary away from home, that I experienced my extreme emotional breakdown. I called Dad sobbing. I did not have to say a word for Dad to realize that I was a potential juror for another domestic violence case.
When I finally spoke, I told Dad that I hated Mom. If not for her, there would be a chance that I would not be as emotionally unstable as I am now. If not for her, I would feel like a normal person instead of the anti-social introvert with trust issues, paranoid fears, and panic attacks.
If you made it this far in the blog post, then WOW! Thank you for your support and interest in a stranger's crazy story.
The truth is that Mom was the woman repeatedly beaten by her affair partner. Mom was the one who scared me into believing that I would get myself or Dad killed if I uttered a word about it. Mom was the one who gaslit me and called me an attention-seeking liar when I eventually decided to do the right thing and tell my elementary school teacher about how bad things were at home.
So, I suppressed this memory for decades because I 'knew' that nobody would ever believe me. This was the case with other horrible memories of my youth.
Dad reassured me that the worst was behind me. I remained at the courthouse for an hour until my eyesight was dry enough to drive home safely.
My dogs immediately helped me feel better. They refused to leave my side for the rest of the day. They curled up next to me while I silently cried on my couch before passing out. They played with one another which made me laugh and feel better about myself. When Dad attempted to console me with a hug, my large dog pushed him away and gave me a hug instead. I felt so loved that evening.
I have yet to speak to Mom and ask how she is doing. Maybe I should call her since she lives alone, but I still resent the times she gaslit me and called me a liar whenever I brought up the past.
This just happened a few weeks ago regarding a phone conversation in April where she wished for bad things happened to me. She was angry because I brought up this affair partner's name (one of many) when she insisted that I answered a question about the past.
Since then, Mom denied saying such hurtful things to me and called me an attention-seeking liar. After recounting past events in my head during and after jury duty, I plan to avoid speaking to Mom for a few more days. After all, I know that she will have something to complain about me.
Mom is not proud of the person I grew up to be, but I am proud of myself for no longer ignoring memories of my past, no matter how painful it is to recall. I can forgive, but it does not feel healthy to completely forget without talking about it at least.
What's Next?
If you know or assume that someone is having a bad day, consider cheering them up with a corny joke, thoughtful compliment, or smile in passing. Such a small gesture could mean so much to a stranger having a bad day.
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Thanks, and have a great day!
~Simply Jelly Jam
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