11:11
the term trauma is often overly used, overly exaggerated, and overly disrespected.
If someone ever rolls their eyes when you mention your past trauma, you have my permission to punch them in the face. I'm kidding-- (kind of), but they shouldn't be someone you associate with. Our traumas are real. They are coiled deep within our emotions, mental capacities, and physical responses. At least for me, I often save myself the trouble of explaining specific triggers from trauma because it can seem a bit far-fetched. But emotions are valid, and we feel them for a reason.
11:11 is "make a wish!" in our world. 1111 is considered powerful and creative, representing new beginnings, leadership, and spirituality. It is a message from angels to pursue a positive path and fulfill our dreams and desires. Right? Yeah, well, not in my case.
I'd be sitting at my work desk from home with vodka in my coffee mug from the morning, obviously, which had been refilled countless times by 11 am. I'd look at the clock, and it would be 11:11. Always. When I'd be miserably drunk 24/7, I never looked in the mirror, never looked at the clock. I stopped caring what time it was. But whenever I'd look at the clock, 11:11 was staring me in the eye. Always. Even when I woke up to go to the bathroom at night after having passed out a couple of hours already, I looked at the clock, and it was 11:11 pm. It was my total for liquor at the store several times; I'd see it everywhere. I can't emphasize this enough...everywhere.
Somehow, I felt deep inside of me that it was a warning that something terrible would happen. But, of course, nothing took priority over my drinking career, so I pushed it aside and chugged.
My husband and I were living in the city at the time (Chicago), and the only thing I remember is him holding me, saying, "Meg, you're having a seizure. The ambulance is on its way." My husband is a firefighter/paramedic and has dealt with this a lot. What if he was on shift and not sleeping next to me? Would I have aspirated and died? I remember seeing the paramedics in the doorway of our bedroom, and I remember being carried down backward on a stretcher. That's all.
It wasn't until much time had passed that I saw it was 11:11. I was sober, and it brought back a lot of bad memories. Then I realized that April 11, the day I had my seizure, was 4/11...1111 for April...11 for the 11th. Honestly, either you're with me or not on this one, but I know that was my warning sign for so long. Seeing 11:11 everywhere--I couldn't take the sign and had to learn the hard way.
