The Sound of Trauma

As I sit here and think about the events over the weekend, I cannot help but respond emotionally.

This morning I woke up to ruminating thoughts about the events from the last two days and after sitting in those thoughts for a minute, I realized the amount of trauma I’ve been exposed to and how I was never taught how to properly address those incidents.

Witnessing a young Korean woman hanging from a third-story window triggered me in ways I was not expecting.

Like everyone else who saw the event, I wondered how something like that could happen. However, unlike everyone else who witnessed the incident in person, the language barrier forced me to speculate... was this a suicide attempt? Something that I have learned is fairly common in this country or was this an incident of domestic violence? Something that is even more common among the locals. I would never know but I rested in the idea that the local police were able to save her and avoid a fatal incident as I went on about my day as best as I could.

However, something happened as the night crept in...

I could not escape the horrific sounds of her screams. I replayed those moments before I looked out the window repeatedly in my head. As I sat at my kitchen table, I sporadically tuned into the noises surrounding me. At first, the screaming was faint. I ignored it because since being here, I have gotten accustomed to the sounds of people yelling while inebriated regardless of the time of day.

However, the screams felt closer and became louder as I recognized they were filled with more agony and fear. Though I could not understand what was being said, I knew something about those screams were different from any other I have heard here before.

The night came and though the incident was hours before, those screams did not escape me.

Her screams reminded me of the November night in 2003 when I learned of my brother’s death.

I was abruptly awakened by the ghastly cries of my mother downstairs and flashing blue lights coming through my window.

Those screams were felt deathly familiar because they are distinct sounds you can never remove from your consciousness. It is a sound that I would unknowingly become witness to again and again.

I was relieved that the woman had safely escaped possible death but, the image of her triggered yet another moment. In 2015, I came home to witness my neighbor’s puppy hanging from the second-story balcony. The dog had fallen through the railings but was still attached to the post by its leash.

The scene terrified me and I did not know how to help. The dog was too high up for me so, I watched helplessly as it struggled to use its claws to hold onto the wooden post unsuccessfully. I watched in horror as it lost its breath and control of its bowels. Feces scattered all over the ground below.

I scream and beat down the door of my neighbor’s apartment and begged him to help the dog. He only shrugged and responded, “that’s what it gets.”

I was mortified but, I ran into my own apartment to call animal control.

But, the sounds of the dog crying and struggling, continued. No matter where I retreated to inside my apartment, the screeching cries of the dying dog followed me.

Just as the cries of my mother and of the Korean woman...

I closed my eyes that night and saw them all. I heard them all.

I will hear them all every time I close my eyes.