Fear

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  “I don’t believe Hugo is capable of an open marriage.” “But he’s capable of having an affair!” Bogner seemed to nod, or was she just catching a stitch in her knitting? The analyst then raised her face and looked directly at Anaïs with her functioning eye. “Can you ask Hugo for a divorce now?” “So he can marry his mistress without me in the way? Absolutely not!” “Are you prepared to divorce Rupert?” “No, I need Rupert more than ever now that Hugo has a mistress!” The solution of an open marriage that could release Anaïs from her abiding guilt and terror of discovery had appeared like a strip of film through Hugo’s editing machine window and then flown out with a zip. She had no choice but to continue on the trapeze. [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] Anaïs was alone in the apartment, and Hugo was out late again, probably dancing with his young mistress. The phone rang. A nurse at New York Hospital said, “Mrs. Guiler, I’m sorry to tell you your husband has been in an accident.” No! Please God, not Hugo! Not after Peter’s death. “He’s going to be alright, Mrs. Guiler. Given he’s in traction.” It took her a while to sort out that Hugo had fallen from kicking too high in class and had fractured a leg. The next morning, Anaïs arrived at Hugo’s hospital room and spent the day with him, waiting to face down the mistress who never showed. A week later, when Hugo and a traction apparatus were delivered to the apartment, there had still been no sign of the young woman who likely was gyrating with someone else now. Once Hugo and his pain pills and bedpan were hers to deal with, Anaïs almost wished the mistress would claim him. Millie had gone, inconveniently, on her Christmas leave, and Anaïs found herself having to feed and nurse him day and night. There was nothing to do but turn Hugo’s helplessness into an opportunity. She rented a nurse’s cap and mini-skirted white uniform from a costume store and wore it with high heels to attend to him. After several weeks of her flirtatious ministrations, their marriage settled into an affectionate, unspoken understanding that she would continue her periodic trips to Los Angeles and he would hold onto her by remaining in denial. Anaïs resolved that from then on she would be not just a liar, but the best liar; not just desirable, but unforgettable; not just a bigamist, but the most wonderful wife any two men could imagine, so that neither would ever wander from her again. That was, unfortunately, when Rupert phoned at 1:20 a.m. Anaïs, who had been sleeping on the daybed in Hugo’s office, picked up the receiver. She could hear Hugo pick up the other line from his hospital bed in the master bedroom. She knew he could hear Rupert’s drunken rant. “Tell me the truth, Anaïs! Are you still living with Hugo?”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Nor did he have long to wait before the two painters brought him the news of his election to the company. On the morning of the day appointed for the next meeting of the society, the Master invited the pair of them to breakfast, and after the meal he asked them how he was to get there, to which Buffalmacco replied: ‘See here, Master, for reasons you are now about to hear, you will have to be very brave, otherwise you may run into trouble and make things very awkward for us. This evening, after dark, you must contrive to climb up on to one of the raised tombs 19 that were erected just recently outside Santa Maria Novella, wearing one of your most sumptuous robes, for not only does the company require you to be nobly dressed when you are presented for the first time, but since you are gently bred, the Countess is proposing (or so we have been told, for we have never actually met her) to make you a Knight of the Bath 20 at her own expense. And you are to remain on the tomb till we send for you. ‘Now, so that you will know exactly what to expect, I should explain that we shall be sending a black creature with horns to come and fetch you, which, though not very large, will attempt to frighten you by parading up and down before you in the piazza, leaping high in the air, and making loud hissing noises. When it sees that you are not afraid, it will come silently towards you, and as soon as it has drawn near to where you are sitting, you must clamber boldly down from the tomb, and, without invoking God or any of the Saints, leap on to its back. Once you are seated firmly on its back, you must fold your arms across your chest and leave them there, for you mustn’t touch the beast with your hands. ‘It will then move slowly off, and convey you to the place where we are all assembled; but I must stress here and now that if you invoke God or any of the Saints, or if you display any fear, you could be thrown off or dashed against something, and then you really will be in a stinking mess. So unless you’re quite sure that your courage won’t desert you, I advise you not to come, for you would only do yourself an injury and bring no credit to ourselves.’ ‘You don’t know me yet,’ said the physician. ‘Perhaps it’s because I wear gloves and long robes that you doubt my courage. But if I were to tell you about some of my nocturnal escapades in Bologna, when I used to go after the women with my companions, you’d be lost in admiration.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Large quantities of refuse were cleared out of the city by officials specially appointed for the purpose, all sick persons were forbidden entry, and numerous instructions were issued for safeguarding the people’s health, but all to no avail. Nor were the countless petitions humbly directed to God by the pious, whether by means of formal processions or in all other ways, any less ineffectual. For in the early spring of the year we have mentioned, the plague began, in a terrifying and extraordinary manner, to make its disastrous effects apparent. It did not take the form it had assumed in the East, where if anyone bled from the nose it was an obvious portent of certain death. On the contrary, its earliest symptom, in men and women alike, was the appearance of certain swellings in the groin or the armpit, some of which were egg-shaped whilst others were roughly the size of the common apple. Sometimes the swellings were large, sometimes not so large, and they were referred to by the populace as gavòccioli . From the two areas already mentioned, this deadly gavòcciolo would begin to spread, and within a short time it would appear at random all over the body. Later on, the symptoms of the disease changed, and many people began to find dark blotches and bruises on their arms, thighs, and other parts of the body, sometimes large and few in number, at other times tiny and closely spaced. These, to anyone unfortunate enough to contract them, were just as infallible a sign that he would die as the gavòcciolo had been earlier, and as indeed it still was. Against these maladies, it seemed that all the advice of physicians and all the power of medicine were profitless and unavailing. Perhaps the nature of the illness was such that it allowed no remedy: or perhaps those people who were treating the illness (whose numbers had increased enormously because the ranks of the qualified were invaded by people, both men and women, who had never received any training in medicine), being ignorant of its causes, were not prescribing the appropriate cure. At all events, few of those who caught it ever recovered, and in most cases death occurred within three days from the appearance of the symptoms we have described, some people dying more rapidly than others, the majority without any fever or other complications. But what made this pestilence even more severe was that whenever those suffering from it mixed with people who were still unaffected, it would rush upon these with the speed of a fire racing through dry or oily substances that happened to come within its reach.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Andreuccio, hearing this, raised his eyes and saw at the window one who, by what little he could make out, himseemed should be a very masterful fellow, with a bushy black beard on his face, and who yawned and rubbed his eyes, as he had arisen from bed or deep sleep; whereupon, not without fear, he answered, 'I am a brother of the lady of the house.' The other waited not for him to make an end of his reply, but said, more fiercely than before, 'I know not what hindereth me from coming down and cudgelling thee what while I see thee stir, for a pestilent drunken ass as thou must be, who will not let us sleep this night.' Then, drawing back into the house, he shut the window; whereupon certain of the neighbours, who were better acquainted with the fellow's quality, said softly to Andreuccio, 'For God's sake, good man, begone in peace and abide not there to-night to be slain; get thee gone for thine own good.' Andreuccio, terrified at the fellow's voice and aspect and moved by the exhortations of the neighbours, who seemed to him to speak out of charity, set out to return to his inn, in the direction of the quarter whence he had followed the maid, without knowing whither to go, despairing of his money and woebegone as ever man was. Being loathsome to himself, for the stench that came from him, and thinking to repair to the sea to wash himself, he turned to the left and followed a street called Ruga Catalana,[101] that led towards the upper part of the city. Presently, he espied two men coming towards him with a lantern and fearing they might be officers of the watch or other ill-disposed folk, he stealthily took refuge, to avoid them, in a hovel, that he saw hard by. But they, as of malice aforethought, made straight for the same place and entering in, began to examine certain irons which one of them laid from off his shoulder, discoursing various things thereof the while. [Footnote 101: _i.e._ Catalan Street.]

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  If, in contrast, the body/mind succeeds in locating the source of its distress (as in the example of Nancy in Chapter Two), the primitive need to identify some source of danger is satisfied. A natural, successful defensive response will then arise to complete the experience. For many of us, this is a giant step toward healing trauma. Typically, however, we use our cognitive abilities to push the matter further – to figure it out and give it a name (or remember it). In so doing we separate ourselves even further from the experience. In that separateness, the seeds of trauma have fertile ground in which to root and grow. The animal that is unable to locate a source of arousal will freeze rather than flee. When the freezing response begins to override Mrs. Thayer’s extreme im-pulse to flee, she rationalizes (using her neo-cortex) that she will die if she tries to escape the house. She is not only without explanation for her extreme physiological arousal, but she also sets up her own dilemma by convincing herself that if she escapes she will die. Mrs. Thayer then enters into a tight, self- made web of fear-induced immobility. Like the Chowchilla children (Chapter Two), Mrs. Thayer is more afraid to escape than to remain trapped. Her neo-cortex tries in vain to explain, while her reptilian brain compels her to act. In the clutch of her terror and self-defeating confusion, Mrs. Thayer will finally focus on her frantic breathing to the exclusion of all else. When she finally suspends her need to understand, she allows her reptilian brain to complete its course of actio n — that of discharging the extraordinary level of energy that has built up inside of her. We are not told why the energy is there. Perhaps even Mrs Thayer does not consciously know. Fortunately for her (and for us), it does not matter. By focusing on the felt sense of her own breath, Mrs Thayer discharges the energy that was the source of her panic attack. Can’t Synthesize New Informatio n/ Can’t Learn An inherent quality of hypervigilance is the absence of the normal orienting responses (Chapter Seven). This has serious ramifications for traumatized people. Primarily, it will impair our overall ability to function effectively in any situation, not just those that require active defense. Part of the function of the orienting response is to identify new information as we become aware of it. If this function is impaired, any amount of new information leads to confusion and overload. Instead of being assimilated and available for future use, new information tends to stack up. It becomes disorganized and unusable. Important pieces of data are misplaced or forgotten. The mind then becomes unable to organize details in a way that makes sense. Rather than retain information that does not make sense, the mind “forgets” it.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Unfortunately, humans often do not completely discharge the vast energies mobilized to protect themselves. Thus, when they enter the second phase, they are reviewing the event, but remain in a highly aroused state. This heightened energy level will not allow the “playful” reviewing to occur. Instead, they may experience often terrifying and compulsive flashbacks that are akin to reliving the event. In Chapter Sixteen, Scenario of Healing from an Accident, the most common response to incomplete discharge is addressed. A majority of people attempt to control their undischarged survival energy by internalizing it. Although this approach is more socially acceptable, it is no less violent than “acting out.” It is also no more effective in dealing with the highly charged activation. It is important for us to understand that the strategy of internalizing instinctive defensive procedures is a form of re-enactmen t- perhaps- it could be called “acting in.” To commit violence on oneself is the method preferred by our culture for several reasons. Obviously, it is easier to maintain a social structure that appears to be in control of itself. However, I think there is another, more compelling reaso n- by internalizing our natural propensity to resolve life-threatening events, we are denying that the need even exist s- it remains hidden. One of the positive aspects in the recent escalation of violent “acting out” is that it is forcing us to face the fact that post traumatic stress, whether it manifests as “acting in” or “acting out,” is a major health issue. Let’s look at an “acted out” scenario: While driving, you see a car coming directly toward you. Your body tenses instantly, then freezes as you feel panic. You brace yourself, feeling resigned to the unavoidable impact. You feel that you have lost control…then, at the last micro-second, you fight off the panic, and swerve out of the path of the oncoming car. As you pass by, you notice that the car is a Mercury Cougar. You pull over to the curb, and stop the car. Your heart is pounding wildly, and you are gasping for breath. As you try to regain control, you have a fleeting moment of “adrenaline rush,” followed by the intense sensation of high arousal. You are frightened by this energy, and feel yourself becoming angry. The anger helps. You focus your rage on the idiot that almost got you killed. Heart and mind still racing, you notice your ice-cold hands are still glued to the steering wheel. You imagine strangling the idiot with all your might. Still wound up, images of the event begin to flash before your eyes. (the second phase begins, but you are still highly charged). The panicky feeling returns, and your heart beats rapidly. You are losing control, and you feel the anger return. Anger has become your frien d- it helps you maintain some semblance of control.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  As I drove us over the bumpy road to Renate’s, I only wanted out. I didn’t want to witness Renate’s tragedy. I didn’t want to be Peter’s replacement. It was enough that my own mother worried about me obsessively, and while I was drawn to Anaïs’s bright, light energy, the shroud of darkness surrounding Renate frightened me. “I’ll go walk on the beach while you talk with Renate,” I told Anaïs. She seized my forearm with the most commanding touch I’d ever felt. “No, I have this all planned.” After Renate answered the door in a pale negligee, she went directly back to her bed, waving a weak hand toward the room where she’d found Peter’s body. “I will never open that door again.” Her milky skin was translucent with a sickly pallor and, in a haunting way, she was more beautiful than before. I found myself visualizing her as Mary in Michelangelo’s Pieta, her dead son stretched over her lap, his knees slouched sideways, his head lolled back. Anaïs and I settled next to Renate’s bed as she reclined against a pile of pillows. On the bed stand were water, medicine bottles, and a small, framed photo of a fat-cheeked man in a monk’s robe and turban, whom I later learned was Swami Vivekananda. “We brought you a custard pie from Du Pars,” Anaïs chirped as she opened the cardboard box. Renate turned away as if the pie’s golden skin were offensive to look at. I was too uncomfortable to say anything, but Anaïs chatted away about women in New York wearing boots and heavy eye makeup and all the graffiti in the subways, about her nervous breakdown in Washington Square Park, her decision to break from both Hugo and Rupert, the various ways she’d thought of to make money to move to Paris, and about the artists she was going to look up when she got there. Tenderly she said, “Renate, you should come too. We’ll start over together.” Renate didn’t even acknowledge her presence, but Anaïs kept right on. “Tristine can come also if she wants, but I don’t know if she will because she has big news; she’s fallen in love.” Anaïs smiled at me encouragingly and put me on the spot. “Tell Renate what you said to Neal when he walked you to your car the first night.” “You mean, ‘Your place or mine?’” “She’s our daughter!” Anaïs lilted. Renate made a choking sound before turning her head away and staring into space. Anaïs continued on with tidbits of gossip about artists they both knew. Eventually, she came back to the topic of raising money and getting a film made of A Spy in the House of Love. Renate was unresponsive, nearly catatonic. “I heard that your screenwriter friend Jimmy Bridges is about to direct his first feature,” Anaïs said brightly. Renate set her icy eyes on Anaïs. “It’s a Western.” “But with Marlon Brando,” Anaïs said.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘You will then go to Rinuccio Palermini and say to him: “Madonna Francesca says she is ready to grant your every wish, provided you do her a great favour, namely that just before midnight tonight you go to the tomb where Scannadio was buried this morning, and without saying a word about anything you may see or hear, fetch his body gently forth and take it to her house. There you will discover why she wants you to do her this service, and you will have all you desire of her. But if you should refuse to do it, she charges you here and now never to send her any further messages or entreaties” The maidservant called on each of the men in turn and delivered the two messages exactly as instructed, in each case receiving the same answer, namely that they would venture into Hell itself, let alone a tomb, if she wanted them to do so. So the maid conveyed this answer to her mistress, who waited to see whether they were mad enough to carry out her request. After dark, having waited until most people were asleep, Alessandro Chiarmontesi stripped down to his doublet and set forth from his house in order to take Scannadio’s place in the tomb. But as he was on his way to the graveyard, he began to feel very frightened, and to say to himself: ‘Why should I be such a fool? Where do I think I’m going? For all I know, her kinsfolk may have discovered I’m in love with her. Perhaps they think I’ve seduced her, and have forced her into this so that they can murder me inside the tomb. If that’s the case, I shan’t stand a dog’s chance, nobody will be any the wiser, and they’ll escape scot free. Or possibly, for all I know, it’s a trap prepared for me by some enemy of mine, who persuaded her to do him this favour because she’s in love with him.’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  In this strange garb, with Bruno following at a safe distance in order to observe the proceedings, he made his way to the new piazza at Santa Maria Novella. And no sooner did he perceive that the learned doctor was there than he began to dance and leap all over the piazza, hissing, screaming and shrieking like one possessed. When the Master saw and heard all this, every hair of his head stood on end and he began to tremble all over, just like a woman, except that he was far more frightened. He began to think he should have stayed at home, but now that he had come so far, he tried to put a bold face upon it, such was his eagerness to observe the marvels of which the two men had spoken. After cavorting madly for some little time in the manner we have described, Buffalmacco appeared to calm down, and coming over to the tomb on which the Master was seated, he stopped and stood perfectly still. Being terrified out of his wits, the Master could not decide whether to mount the creature or remain where he was, but in the end, fearing lest the thing should attack him if he failed to climb on to its back, he chose the lesser of the two evils; and having clambered down from the tomb, he leapt on the creature’s back, whispering ‘God preserve me’ as he did so. Once he was firmly seated, still trembling like a leaf, he folded his arms across his chest as instructed, whereupon Buffalmacco moved slowly off on all fours in the direction of Santa Maria della Scala, and carried him almost as far as the nunnery of Ripole. 23 Now at that time there were some ditches in those parts into which the farmers used to pour the offerings of the Countess of Cesspool, to enrich their lands. And when Buffalmacco reached this spot, he ambled up to the edge of one of the ditches, and, choosing the right moment, grabbed one of the doctor’s feet and heaved him smartly off his back, casting him head first into the ditch. He then began to snarl in a most terrifying manner, leaping frantically all over the place, and eventually made his way back past Santa Maria della Scala towards the meadow of Ognissanti, where he rejoined Bruno who had run away because he was unable to contain his laughter. And hugging one another with glee, they went and watched from a safe distance to see what the filth-bespattered doctor would do. The worthy physician, finding himself in this unspeakably loathsome place, endeavoured to stand on his feet and grope his way out, but stumbled and fell in all directions before he finally succeeded in scrambling clear, sorrowing and forlorn, and covered in filth from head to toe, having parted company with his doctoral hood and swallowed several drams of the ditchwater.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  On the morrow, the wind having shifted, the carracks made sail westward and fared on their voyage prosperously all that day; but towards evening there arose a tempestuous wind which made the waves run mountains high and parted the two carracks one from the other. Moreover, from stress of wind it befell that that wherein was the wretched and unfortunate Landolfo smote with great violence upon a shoal over against the island of Cephalonia and parting amidships, broke all in sunder no otherwise than a glass dashed against a wall. The sea was in a moment all full of bales of merchandise and chests and planks, that floated on the surface, as is wont to happen in such cases, and the poor wretches on board, swimming, those who knew how, albeit it was a very dark night and the sea was exceeding great and swollen, fell to laying hold of such things as came within their reach. Among the rest the unfortunate Landolfo, albeit many a time that day he had called for death, (choosing rather to die than return home poor as he found himself,) seeing it near at hand, was fearful thereof and like the others, laid hold of a plank that came to his hand, so haply, an he put off drowning awhile, God might send him some means of escape. Bestriding this, he kept himself afloat as best he might, driven hither and thither of the sea and the wind, till daylight, when he looked about him and saw nothing but clouds and sea and a chest floating on the waves, which bytimes, to his sore affright, drew nigh unto him, for that he feared lest peradventure it should dash against him on such wise as to do him a mischief; wherefore, as often as it came near him, he put it away from him as best he might with his hand, albeit he had little strength thereof. But presently there issued a sudden flaw of wind out of the air and falling on the sea, smote upon the chest and drove it with such violence against Landolfo's plank that the latter was overset and he himself perforce went under water. However, he struck out and rising to the surface, aided more by fear than by strength, saw the plank far removed from him, wherefore, fearing he might be unable to reach it again, he made for the chest, which was pretty near him, and laying himself flat with his breast on the lid thereof, guided it with his arms as best he might.[93] [Footnote 93: It seems doubtful whether _la reggeva diritta_ should not rather be rendered "kept it upright." Boccaccio has a knack, very trying to the translator, of constantly using words in an obscure or strained sense.]

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  She said, her voice undulating like the waves drawn in the sand, “It’s like a diary, seeing the pattern my hand makes. A form of meditation. It changes every day: sometimes a mandala, sometimes straight lines.” She pulled the small rake so slowly that we became aware of every grain falling into place. “Rupert and I came back early because I had to have some medical tests.” She put the rake down and, with a flat palm, annihilated the perfect pattern she’d made. I almost cried out, Don’t! I asked, “Is everything okay?” “They removed a tumor.” I felt the sliding door and walls of the house about to collapse, glass shattering on the brick surrounding us. “No!” She put her hand to my face. “Don’t worry, Tristine. There are doctors now who can cure cancer just with your mind and your will.” Cancer. Everyone I’d ever known who’d had cancer had died from it. She continued gently. “My healer Dr. Brugh Joy says I’m an excellent candidate to make the cancer cells go away with my ability to visualize. I’ve had so much practice in my novel writing.” “But you will do the other, you know, medical stuff? Chemotherapy?” I wasn’t sure I’d pronounced the word correctly. “My visualizing will work.” She held my gaze with her aqua eyes. “I don’t want this to ruin your happiness. I’m not letting it ruin mine. We are here together right now, looking out at the pool and the lake, contemplating the sand garden.” She began moving the rake again in a delicate zigzag. “Our love for each other is here now, and our love for our men.” We sat in silence, the sunlight through the sliding doors making everything sharp. I could hear a high piercing ring that cut through all the beauty. I was in love and loved. I was bursting with happiness. I had Anaïs’s friendship. And she was dying. It was all dying. I phoned Renate when I got home. Though she had been present during Anaïs’s surgery at Cedars-Sinai, Renate hadn’t said a word about it to me. She made no apology. “You seemed so preoccupied with your love affair.” Even now she seemed reluctant to share the details. “What can I do?” “You have to stay positive. She staved it off for twenty years; she can do it again. Anaïs has the power within herself to transform the illusion of physical illness. You’ll see.” And because mind magic had worked to get Philip and me the beach house, and because Anaïs had so successfully manifested her desires in the past, I did believe she would heal herself.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  He therefore took her in his arms, holding her tightly so that she could not escape, and said: ‘Sweet my soul, do not upset yourself so. What I was unable to achieve by mere wooing, Love has taught me to obtain by deception. I am your Ricciardo.’ No sooner did Catella hear these words and recognize his voice than she tried to leap out of bed, only to find that she was unable to move. She then prepared to scream, but Ricciardo placed a hand over her mouth, saying: ‘My lady, it is impossible now to undo what has happened, even if you were to scream for the rest of your life. Besides, if you scream, or if you ever make this known to anyone, two things will ensue. The first (which ought to cause you no small concern) is that your honour and good name will be laid in ruins, because no matter how much you insist that I tricked you into coming here, I shall say that you are lying. Indeed, I shall maintain that I induced you to come by promising you money and presents, and that the reason you are making such a song and dance about it is simply that you were annoyed because your gains fell short of your expectations. I need hardly remind you that people are more inclined to believe in bad intentions than in good ones, and hence my account will carry no less conviction than yours. In the second place, your husband and I will become mortal enemies, and it could just as easily happen that he is killed by me as I by him, in which case you would inevitably spend the rest of your days in grief and mourning. ‘Light of my life, do not at one and the same time bring dishonour upon yourself and jeopardize the lives of your husband and me by setting us at each other’s throats. You are not the first woman to have been deceived, nor will you be the last, and in any case I had no intention of depriving you of anything. I was impelled to do it by excess of love, and indeed I am prepared to love you and serve you in all humility for the rest of my days. For a long time past, I and everything I possess have been yours, and all my power and influence have been at your disposal; but henceforth I intend to place them more completely than ever at your command. You are a wise woman, and I am certain that you will act now with that same good sense that you are wont to display in other matters.’ Catella wept bitterly while Ricciardo was speaking, and though she was exceedingly annoyed and upset, she was none the less able to see that he was right, and realized that events could easily follow the course he predicted. ‘Ricciardo,’ she said.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Being suddenly confronted with the sight of the opulent bed, he could hardly believe his eyes, and such was the terror by which he was seized that he turned on his heel and came running out of the church, much to the amazement of the Abbot and the monks, who demanded to know the reason. Whereupon the sexton told them what he had seen. ‘Come now,’ said the Abbot, ‘it’s not as if you were a child any more, or a newcomer to this church, to be frightened so easily. Let’s all go and see what has startled you.’ So the Abbot and his monks, having kindled a number of lights, entered the church and saw this amazing and sumptuous bed, with the sleeping knight upon it. And just as they were casting a wary and timorous eye over all the princely jewels, standing well back from the bed, the power of the potion happened to expend itself, Messer Torello stirred, and a great, deep sigh escaped his lips. On seeing this, the monks, and also the Abbot, were frightened out of their wits, and they all ran away crying ‘Lord, deliver us!’ Having opened his eyes and looked about him, Messer Torello discovered to his great joy that he was in the very place where he had asked to be left. And whereas he had known of the munificence of Saladin in the past, when he sat up now and surveyed, one by one, the objects with which he was surrounded, he was all the more conscious of it and deemed it greater than ever. But meanwhile he could hear the monks running away, and guessing the reason, he began, without stirring any further, to call to the Abbot by name, begging him not to be frightened as it was only Torello, his nephew. On hearing this, the Abbot’s fears increased, since for many months past he had assumed Torello to be dead. But after a while, drawing strength from the power of reason, and continuing to hear his name being called, he crossed himself devoutly and went cautiously up to Torello, who said to him: ‘Oh, my father, of what are you afraid? By the grace of God, I am alive, and I have come back here from across the sea.’ Albeit Torello was thickly bearded and dressed in Arabian clothes, the Abbot soon recognized him; and being wholly reassured, he took him by the hand, saying: ‘My son, I bid you a hearty welcome.’ Then he continued: ‘Our alarm ought not to surprise you, for there isn’t a man in the whole of Pavia who is not convinced that you are dead. Indeed I may tell you that your wife, Madonna Adalieta, 9 overcome by the threats and entreaties of her kinsfolk, has been forced to remarry.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  7 He was the Archbishop of Naples, and he had been buried with some very valuable regalia and wearing a ruby on his finger, worth more than five hundred gold florins, which these two fellows were on their way to plunder. They disclosed their intentions to Andreuccio, and being more covetous than well-advised, he set off in their company. As they were on their way to the cathedral, with Andreuccio still putting forth a powerful odour, one of them said: ‘Couldn’t we find some place or other where this fellow could be washed, so that he didn’t stink so appallingly?’ ‘Certainly,’ said the other. ‘Not far from here, there’s a well, which always used to have a pulley and a big bucket at the top. Let’s go there and give him a quick wash.’ On reaching the well, they found that the rope was still there, but the bucket had been removed. So they hit on the idea of tying him to the rope and lowering him into the well so that he could wash himself down below. When he had finished washing, he was to give the rope a tug, and they would haul him up again. Shortly after they had lowered him into the well, some officers of the watch, feeling thirsty on account of the heat and also because they had been chasing somebody, happened to come to the well for a drink. When the other two saw them coming, they immediately took to their heels, making good their escape without being spotted by the officers. Meanwhile Andreuccio, having completed his ablutions at the bottom of the well, gave a tug on the rope. The officers had taken off their surcoats and laid them on the ground beside their bucklers and pikestaffs, and they now began to haul away at the rope, thinking it had a bucket full of water attached to it. When Andreuccio saw that he had nearly reached the top of the well, he let go the rope and threw himself on to the rim, clinging to it with both hands. On seeing this apparition, the officers were filled with sudden panic, and without a word they dropped the rope and began to run as fast as their legs would carry them. Andreuccio stared at them in blank amazement, and if he hadn’t held on tightly, he would have fallen to the bottom, perhaps being killed or doing himself serious injury. However, he clambered out, and when he saw these weapons, he grew even more perplexed, for he knew they had not been left there by his companions. Bewailing his misfortune, and fearing lest anything worse should befall him, he decided to leave all these things where they were and clear off. So away he went without having the slightest idea where he was going. As he was walking along, he came across his two companions, who were on their way back to the well to haul him out.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  He just threatened me. Well, maybe I was scared a little bit. He had all kinds of knives and guns hanging on his walls.” “But you weren’t really scared?” “No, nothing happened.” Gladys left that day with an outwardly calm de-meanor. Her claim that she had not been frightened during the kidnapping or at any other time still dominated her experience. She did not return. Gladys’ story, while extreme, is typical of denial. Denial keeps the traumatized person in its grip until the primitive processes that guard the system decide to let go. We may come out of denial because we feel safe, because another event triggers a “memory,” or because our biologys say, “Enough.” While there are things that friends, loved ones, and therapists can do to help (i.e., intervention), a sensitivity to timing is critical to the success of these approaches. What Trauma Survivors Expect The young girl whose father molests her will freeze in her bed because she cannot escape the terror and shame of the experience by running away. In having her active defensive escape response thwarted, the child’s ability to orient to normal stimuli will change. She will no longer respond with curiosity and expectancy. Her actions will be constricted and frozen in fear. The sound of footsteps, which the “normal” child orients to with alert expectancy, evokes frozen terror in the incest child. When the incest is ongoing, the child responds by becoming habitually frozen in the immobility state. For children who are threatened, however, immobility becomes a dysfunctional symptom of their trauma. Children become both psychological and physiological victims, and will carry that posture throughout their lives. They will be unable to make a full switch from immobility back to the possibility of active escape, regardless of the situation they find themselves in. They become so identified with helplessness and shame that they literally no longer have the resources to defend themselves when attacked or put under pressure. All humans who are repeatedly overwhelmed become identified with states of anxiety and helplessness. In addition, they bring this helplessness to many other situations that are perceived as threats. They make the “decision” that they are helpless, and continue in many varied ways to prove this victimization to themselves and to others. They give in to the helpless feelings even in situations that they have the resources to master. Sometimes (in what is known as a counter-phobic reaction), they may attempt to disprove what they don’t like about themselves by deliberately provoking danger. Either way, they are behaving as victims and their behaviors propagate further victimization. Career criminals speak of using body language to choose their victims. They have learned through experience that certain people do not defend themselves as well as others.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Sammy has been spending the weekend with his grandmother and step-grandfather, where I am their guest. Sammy is being an impossible tyrant, aggressively and relentlessly trying to control his new environment. Nothing pleases him; he is in a foul temper every waking moment. When he is asleep, he tosses and turns as if wrestling with his bedclothes. This is not behavior entirely unexpected from a two-and-a-half-year-old whose parents have gone away for the weeken d- children with separation anxiety often act it out. Sammy, however, has always enjoyed visiting his grandparents and this behavior seems extreme to them. His grandparents stated that six months earlier, Sammy fell off his high chair and split his chin open. Bleeding profusely, he was taken to the local emergency room. When the nurse came to take his temperature and blood pressure, he was so frightened that she was unable to record his vital signs. The two-year-old-child was subsequently strapped down in a “pediatric papoose” (a board with flaps and Velcro straps), with his torso and legs immobilized. The only part of his body he could move was his head and nec k which, naturally, he did, as energetically as he could. The doctors responded by tightening the restraint in order to suture his chin. After this upsetting experience, Mom and Dad took Sammy out for a hamburger and then to the playground. His mother was very attentive and carefully validated his experience of being scared and hurt, and all seemed forgotten. However, the boy’s tyrannical attitude began shortly after this event. Could Sammy’s over-controlling behavior be related to his perceived helplessness from this trauma? I discovered that Sammy had been to the emergency room several times with various injuries, though he had never exhibited this degree of terror and panic. When the parents returned, we agreed to explore whether there might be a traumatic charge still associated with this recent experience. We all assembled in the cabin where I was staying. Sammy wouldn’t have anything to do with talking about the fall or the hospital experience. With parents, grandparents, and Sammy watching, I precariously placed his stuffed Pooh Bear on a chair, where it fell off and had to be taken to the hospital. Sammy shrieked, bolted for the door, and ran across a foot bridge and down a narrow path to the creek. Our suspicions were confirmed. His most recent visit to the hospital was neither benign nor forgotten. Sammy’s behavior indicated that this game was potentially overwhelming for him.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It seems you want to break my heart, but I shall break yours, so help me God, or have you hounded off the face of the earth.’ Whereupon she ran her hands through her hair, leaving it all rumpled and dishevelled, after which she tore open the front of her dress, at the same time calling out in a loud voice: ‘Help! Help! The Count of Antwerp is trying to ravish me!’ When he saw what was happening, the Count was far more concerned about the envious proclivities of the courtiers than reassured by his own clear conscience in the matter; and for this reason he feared that the lady’s wicked lies would carry greater conviction than his own protestations of innocence. He therefore hurried out of the room, got quickly away from the palace, and fled to his own house, whence, without pausing for further reflection, he took horse with his children and set off at breakneck speed in the direction of Calais. The lady’s caterwauling brought several people running, and when they saw her and heard what she was shouting about, they were convinced she was telling the truth, more especially because they now assumed that the Count had long been exploiting his charm and his elegant ways for no other purpose. There followed a wild rush to the Count’s residence, with the intention of placing him under arrest. But on finding that he was not at home, they ransacked the whole of the premises and then razed them to the ground. When the story, embroidered with various obscenities, reached the King and his son in the field, they were greatly distressed, and condemned the Count and his descendants to perpetual exile, promising huge rewards for his capture, dead or alive. Meanwhile the Count, full of misgivings for having turned his innocence into apparent guilt by his hurried departure, arrived at Calais with his children, having succeeded in concealing his identity and escaping recognition. He then crossed rapidly to England, and proceeded, raggedly dressed, towards London. But before entering the city, he talked at great length with the two little children, laying great stress on two points in particular: first, that they must patiently support the state of poverty into which, through no fault of their own, Fortune had cast them along with their father; and second, that if they valued their lives, they must always be on their guard against telling anyone where they had come from or who their father was. The boy, who was called Louis, was about nine years old, whilst the girl, whose name was Violante, 2 was about seven, and considering their tender age, they paid the closest possible attention to their father’s instructions, as they were later to prove. In order to make their task easier, the Count decided it would be necessary to change their names, and this he did, calling the boy Perrot and the girl Jeannette.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘Sweet my soul, do not upset yourself so. What I was unable to achieve by mere wooing, Love has taught me to obtain by deception. I am your Ricciardo.’ No sooner did Catella hear these words and recognize his voice than she tried to leap out of bed, only to find that she was unable to move. She then prepared to scream, but Ricciardo placed a hand over her mouth, saying: ‘My lady, it is impossible now to undo what has happened, even if you were to scream for the rest of your life. Besides, if you scream, or if you ever make this known to anyone, two things will ensue. The first (which ought to cause you no small concern) is that your honour and good name will be laid in ruins, because no matter how much you insist that I tricked you into coming here, I shall say that you are lying. Indeed, I shall maintain that I induced you to come by promising you money and presents, and that the reason you are making such a song and dance about it is simply that you were annoyed because your gains fell short of your expectations. I need hardly remind you that people are more inclined to believe in bad intentions than in good ones, and hence my account will carry no less conviction than yours. In the second place, your husband and I will become mortal enemies, and it could just as easily happen that he is killed by me as I by him, in which case you would inevitably spend the rest of your days in grief and mourning. ‘Light of my life, do not at one and the same time bring dishonour upon yourself and jeopardize the lives of your husband and me by setting us at each other’s throats. You are not the first woman to have been deceived, nor will you be the last, and in any case I had no intention of depriving you of anything. I was impelled to do it by excess of love, and indeed I am prepared to love you and serve you in all humility for the rest of my days. For a long time past, I and everything I possess have been yours, and all my power and influence have been at your disposal; but henceforth I intend to place them more completely than ever at your command. You are a wise woman, and I am certain that you will act now with that same good sense that you are wont to display in other matters.’ Catella wept bitterly while Ricciardo was speaking, and though she was exceedingly annoyed and upset, she was none the less able to see that he was right, and realized that events could easily follow the course he predicted.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Of these traumatic antecedents, medical procedures are by far the most common and potentially the most impacting. Many clinics (unintentionally) amplify the fear of an already frightened child. In preparation for some routine procedures, infants are strapped into “papooses” to keep them from moving. A child that struggles so much that he or she needs to be tied down, however, is a child too frightened to be restrained without suffering the consequences. Likewise, a child who is severely frightened is not a good candidate for anesthesia until a sense of tranquillity has been restored. A child induced into anesthesia while frightened will almost certainly be traumatize d often severely. Children can even be traumatized by insensitively administered enemas or thermometers. Much of the trauma associated with medical procedures can be prevented if health care providers do the following: 1. Encourage parents to stay with their children. 2. Explain as much as possible in advance. 3. Delay procedures until the children are calm. The problem is that few professionals understand trauma or the lasting and pervasive effects these procedures can have. Although medical personnel are often quite concerned with the children’s welfare, they may need more information from you, the consumer. First Aid for Accidents and Falls Accidents and falls are a normal and often benign part of growing up. However, occasionally a child may experience a traumatic reaction from one of these everyday occurrences. Witnessing a mishap of this sort will not necessarily clue you in to the degree of its severity. A child can be traumatized by events that seem relatively insignificant to an adult. It is important to be aware of the fact that children can be quite adept at covering up the signs of traumatic impact, especially when they feel that “not being hurt” will keep mommy and daddy happy. Your best ally in responding to your child’s needs is an informed perspective. Here are some guidelines: Attend to your own responses first, inwardly acknowledging your concern and fear for the injured child. Take a deep breath and exhale slowly; sense the feelings in your own body. If you feel upset, do it again. The time it takes to establish a sense of calm is time well spent. It will increase your capacity to attend fully to the child, while minimizing the child’s reaction to your own fear or confusion. If you have the time to gather yourself, your own acceptance of the accident will help you focus on the child’s needs. If you are too emotional you carry the potential to frighten the child as much as the accident has. Children are very sensitive to the emotional states of all adults, but particularly their parents.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Fear of so-called negative emotion. When the usual balance of energy shifts, we begin to re-experience the event. Here the picture becomes more complicated because what we are experiencing is due in part to confusion about the nature of the energy that is released. In its pure form, the energy generated by our nervous system to protect us from danger is vital. It feels alive and exhilarating. When this energy is thwarted in its attempt to protect us, a significant portion of it is re-channeled into fear, rage, hatred, and shame as part of the constellation of symptoms that develop to organize the undischarged energy. These so-called “negative” emotions become intimately associated with the vital energy itself, as well as with the other symptoms that form the cluster of traumatic aftereffects. When we suffer from trauma, the association between the life energy and the negative emotions is so close that we cannot distinguish between them. Discharge is precisely what we need, but when it begins to happen, the effect can be terrifying and intolerable, in part because the energy released is perceived to be negative. Because of this fear, we typically suppress the energy or at best discharge it incompletely. Drug therapy and substance abuse. Another means by which traumatized people can attempt to stabilize or suppress symptoms is through drug therapy. We often try this approach at the recommendation of a doctor, or we may attempt to self-medicate (substance abuse). Whatever means of stabilization we employ, our purpose is to create a stable environment. This feat requires a container that is energetically strong enough that the symptoms will not be stressed or challenged. These containers are like dams. They must be engineered well enough to prevent the release of horrible fear and primitive, uncontrollable rage. Trauma sufferers often find ourselves on a treadmill over which we have no control. We may be driven to avoid situations that evoke both authentic excitement and relaxation, because either could disrupt the equilibrium that our symptoms need to maintain their stability. Out of the Loop There are ways out of these self-perpetuating cycles. Somatic Experiencing ® is one of them. In learning to define trauma by its symptoms, rather than by the event that caused it, we can develop perspectives that will help us recognize trauma when it occurs. This will enable us to flow with our natural responses rather than blocking the innate healing process.