Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 31
by HidingInSight
It was almost 3 a.m. when once again Gibbs woke suddenly from a nightmare and sat up hard. Beside him, Fornell stirred. Gibbs tried to stifle his harsh breathing and laid a gentle hand on Fornell's thigh, willing him not to wake. In his mind, he'd been screaming. He was glad to see he hadn't done it out loud.
The balance of the day had been quiet. Gibbs slept until Fornell woke him for evening meds, then managed to down half a mug of rewarmed soup before refusing any more. They'd sat together on the couch watching an old western, companionable silence between them. Gibbs had felt Tobias's worry, but ignored it. Nothing he could do about that.
The drug-induced nap had been good, but it wasn't long after he woke before his mind was once again spinning and out of control. Gibbs tried to concentrate on the TV. He found it almost impossible. By 9:30 he was exhausted with the effort and decided to go back to bed. He'd invited Fornell to join him, again with the unstated request to just be present. Gibbs found it easier to fall asleep with his love beside him. Until once again, the nightmares appeared.
When he was sure Fornell wouldn't wake, Gibbs slid out of bed. He quietly left the room and descended the stairs. Glancing out the foyer windows as he went by, he saw nothing. But he still felt … uneasy. In the kitchen he thought about starting coffee, but didn't want the smell to wake Tobias. Instead, he poured a glass of juice and drank it down, then filled the glass again before moving to the table. The blinds were pulled all the way around the dining room. He sat in the chair at the end of the table where he could see both the kitchen and the living room and sipped at the juice. When had he started feeling so uncomfortable in his own house? Probably about the same time he'd started feeling so uncomfortable in his own skin.
The pile of papers they'd been given at the hospital was sitting on the other end of the table. They hadn't been there yesterday morning and he wondered when – and why – they'd reappeared. After staring at the stack for a bit, Gibbs stood and leaned across the table to drag them over.
Medication documentation. Head injury precautions. List of support groups. A brochure about a sexual assault crisis line for men. He paused there. Considered. Rejected. Considered again.
He rose and went to the end table next to the couch. There was a pair of reading glasses there, and he slipped them on with one hand, pulling the light string with the other before taking a seat.
"Research suggests 10 to 20 percent of all males will experience some form of sexual abuse or sexual assault at some point in their lives …
… our culture values invulnerability and denial of pain as essential qualities of "manliness" …
… most men who experience sexual assault choose never to reveal it, even to people they know and trust. They fear being disbelieved, ridiculed, shamed, accused of weakness, ignored or, in the case of heterosexual men, being perceived as gay ...
… male survivors fear being blamed for their own attack because they were not "manly" or "macho" enough to protect themselves or prevent it …"
Gibbs stopped reading and let his eyes lose focus. He wasn't too big to admit that sounded about right. He let his mind wander over that before focusing again.
"Both men and women survivors experience common symptoms: Anger, anxiety, sadness, confusion, fear, flashbacks, numbness, self-blame, guilt, helplessness, hopelessness, suicidal feelings, shame, sexual dysfunction ...
… male survivors often show more hostility and aggression than tearfulness and fear ...
… not unusual for male survivors to begin to question their own sexual identity or orientation, or to find themselves acting out in sexually aggressive ways …"
Again, Gibbs stopped. Yeah, that was definitely right. He felt some shame as he remembered that night, when he'd tried to force Tobias to … He turned to the next page.
"Both women and men who experience sexual assault may suffer from depression, post-traumatic stress symptoms and other emotional problems. But because men generally have different life experiences than women, their emotional symptoms can appear different too ..."
He refolded the brochure and flipped to the back, where a toll-free number was prominently displayed.
"Men who suffer sexual abuse or sexual assault usually endure their traumatic experience silently and alone. It doesn't have to be that way. If you've experienced sexual trauma and you're ready to begin your recovery journey, we can help. Our service is free and completely confidential."
Gibbs leaned his head back against the couch. The spinning thoughts that had kept him from rest were there again, flitting around the edges of his attention. The shadow of panic. The echo of fear. The memory of pain, of helplessness, of shame.
With the brochure clenched in his fist, Gibbs lurched to his feet, strode purposefully across to the basement door and descended the stairs for the first time in a week. He took the cordless phone off the wall and went to the tool bench. Flicking on the bench light, he reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels he kept on the shelf. Nothing. Tobias must have dumped it. Damn it. He'd have to do this without. He pulled over a stool and laid the brochure on the benchtop, smoothing it out. Quickly, before he changed his mind, Gibbs dialed the number.
"Man to Man, this is Daniel."
Gibbs almost dropped the phone. The voice sounded so much like DiNozzo it could've been his brother. If he had one. Gibbs found himself unable to speak. He held the phone next to his head, silent but for his breathing.
"Hello? Is someone there?" Gibbs opened his mouth, but he couldn't make himself form words. The voice softened.
"This is a crisis line for men who've experienced sexual trauma. If you've got the wrong number, it's okay to hang up now." He paused a beat. Gibbs didn't hang up.
"Are you safe where you are?" Daniel asked. Gibbs cleared his throat and managed to make an affirmative sound.
"Good. My name is Daniel. I'm a volunteer counselor. Is this your first time calling?" Another grunt.
"Okay. I'm really glad you called. Can you tell me your first name?"
Gibbs wasn't at all sure he shouldn't just hang up. He certainly didn't want this stranger who sounded so much like his Second to know who was calling. So he said nothing.
"It's alright. You don't have to say anything. Since you didn't hang up, you must have the right number. I want you to know we respect your privacy here. You'll never have to tell us who you are or where you're calling from if you don't want to. We can't even see your caller ID. If we have reason to believe you're in imminent danger, we can connect to 9-1-1 and they can see where you're at, but we can't. You can be as anonymous as you want to be. Okay?"
Well that was good, he supposed. Having his home number in some database of rape victims somewhere certainly wouldn't be his first choice, now that he thought about it.
When he didn't answer, Daniel continued. "How about I tell you a bit about us, and maybe some of what's normal for male survivors of sexual trauma, and when you feel like it, you can speak up. Sound good?"
Gibbs found himself nodding, as if the man on the other end could see him.
"I'll take that as a yes. First, it's important to know that we're a warm line, meaning if you feel like you want to hurt yourself or someone else, or if you're in danger, you should call 9-1-1. But if you're in a tough place and you just need to talk, or listen, we'll help you get through it. We can also help arrange for in-person counselling or confidential medical care, and we can make referrals to social service agencies and support groups if you think that would be helpful."
Daniel paused and Gibbs cleared his throat, trying again. "Okay."
"Good. It's good to hear your voice. Can you tell me how long ago it happened, or if it's still ongoing?" When Gibbs said nothing, Daniel continued. "I can be more helpful if I know if it was a recent event, if this is something you've lived with for a while, or if it's still going on. You don't have to tell me, but it'll help."
That voice. Gibbs couldn't get over how much this guy sounded like DiNozzo. He had to be sure, before he went any further, that this wasn't some cousin of Tony's, that nothing he said was going to get back to the man who depended on him to be strong. He coughed and spoke.
"You know anyone named DiNozzo?"
There was clear hesitation. "I can't tell you whether I've talked to anyone by that name. Like I said, we-"
Gibbs interrupted him "Anyone you're related to?"
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"It was last week," Gibbs said, ignoring that question in favor of answering the first. His throat was still tight, but at least he didn't feel like the words were choking him.
"Last week," Daniel repeated. "Okay. How are you feeling?"
Gibbs didn't bother to respond. Not why he was calling. Not that he was sure why he was calling.
"Did you get medical attention, after?" Daniel asked. Again, Gibbs said nothing.
"If you didn't, you should still consider checking in with your primary care doctor, or we can recommend someone. Unwanted penetration can lead to injuries that may not appear until-"
"Yes."
"That's good," Daniel said. He didn't seem to be bothered by Gibbs' interruptions. "That means you're probably taking anti-retroviral medications, which means you're also probably feeling like death on a cracker most of the time right about now, right?"
Gibbs made a grunting sound of agreement.
"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "The doctor would have already told you what to expect, and what to watch out for, so I won't get into that. But I will tell you it was the right choice. It's far better to go through it now than to wonder for years if you're going to test positive someday."
Daniel stopped, leaving an opening. Gibbs let it sit. When Daniel spoke again, his voice was low.
"But that's not the worst of it, is it? The worst of it is almost never the physical pain and sickness, though that can be bad enough. It's the emotional stuff most male survivors struggle with. The loss of control, feelings of shame and embarrassment. These are all foreign to most men. But you need to know they're completely normal." He waited for a reply. Gibbs had nothing.
"The first few weeks after a sexual assault are referred to as the reaction phase. Everyone experiences this kind of trauma differently, but there are a few things that are very common. The first hours after are usually lost in shock. You might experience a sense of disbelief, that something like that could actually happen to you. It's very common for survivors to want to hide it, imagining people are going to think there was something wrong with you, that you 'let' that happen. Almost everyone feels some shame, a feeling like you can't get clean. Most also feel a sense of guilt, that maybe you did something to make this happen, or that if you'd only done something differently, you could have prevented the attack." He stopped again. "You with me so far?"
There was no response from Gibbs, who was considering the range of emotions he'd felt over the past six days. This was all so familiar.
Daniel continued. "You might feel depressed, mentally and physically exhausted, hopeless, or powerless. Many men feel disoriented, like they're in some kind of parallel universe, where everything looks the same but feels completely different. You'll likely experience flashbacks to the event, and something we call 'retriggering,' that can make you feel like you're back there, like the assault happened moments ago. Some men get angry, wanting to kill their attacker, hurt themselves or others. That's okay if it's just a feeling, but if you start to act on that feeling, or if it begins to be the only thing you feel, you need to ask for help."
Again, Daniel stopped. "You still with me?" After a moment, Gibbs made a small sound of acknowledgement. He leaned an elbow on the workbench and started lightly drawing patterns in the sawdust with his free hand.
"Good. One of the more debilitating feelings, and one of the hardest for most men to deal with, is fear. You're likely to feel afraid in situations that you never gave a second thought to before. You might feel paranoid or overly cautious in everyday places. You may wonder if you'll ever be able to deal with normal social interactions again. If you're going to be able to get back to your life, your work, school, family." Daniel took a breath. "You may be afraid that you'll never enjoy intimacy again. Let me tell you right now that you will. It'll take a while, sometimes it takes a long while, but you'll get there. I promise. Even if right now the casual touch of a dear friend makes you want to run."
Gibbs considered that. Since that disastrous first try, he'd been trying very hard to set that aside for later. Or never. He'd also been trying to ignore the number of times he'd flinched away from DiNozzo. Or Tobias.
Daniel picked it up again. "Some survivors feel crushing anxiety that can manifest in some pretty severe physical symptoms: Chest pain, heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, tremors, headaches, nausea. It can also cause sleep disturbances, panic attacks, dissociative episodes …"
"Stop," Gibbs interrupted him again. "Explain."
"Dissociation?" Daniel asked.
"Yeah."
"Sure. It's not unusual for survivors of rape or other sexual trauma, especially those with strong personalities, to experience episodes where their higher mind, their consciousness, blinks out, for want of a better word. The episodes can last seconds, minutes, or in extreme cases, hours. The person usually returns to full awareness with no memory of passing time or anything else that occurred while they were away."
"That's normal?" Gibbs asked.
"Yes. Not everyone experiences them, but they are considered normal as long as they don't become too frequent. Have you been experiencing them?"
"Why?"
"Because if you are, I can give you some information that might help." Gibbs shook his head. Not what he was asking.
"Why dissociation?" he clarified.
"Oh. Think of it as a circuit breaker. When memories or emotion threaten to overwhelm, the brain trips the breaker, shutting down consciousness to prevent further stress. When you stop being aware, the memory stops, and with it the overload."
That was a pretty good analogy, Gibbs thought. It was exactly what he'd experienced: Memory overwhelmed, pressure built, and down he went.
"How?"
"How does it work? We don't really know," Daniel said. "There are functions and reactions of the brain that even now scientists don't understand. We just know it happens, it's scary as hell, but it's normal. We also know the stronger and more controlled the mind, the more likely it is to happen. Almost like the weaker mind just breaks down, while the stronger mind protects itself."
Gibbs found himself nodding again. "Every day since. Usually minutes. Today – yesterday – about an hour."
"That's long. But not unexpected. Were you somewhere safe when it happened?"
"Safe enough," Gibbs replied.
"Good. Is that what made you decide to call?" Daniel asked.
"How do I stop them?" Gibbs asked in turn.
"You can't, really." It didn't seem to bother the man on the other end that Gibbs wasn't answering his questions. "It takes time. As your brain becomes more comfortable with the memory, they'll lessen. The less the memory overwhelms, the less your brain needs to trip the circuit. If you work at it, you'll eventually get to a place where you can remember the trauma without retriggering it. But you'll have to do the work."
The near word-for-word echo of what Ducky had told him didn't surprise Gibbs. The Medical Examiner's knowledge was broad and deep.
"Talking about it," Gibbs said.
"That helps. But you don't have to, if you don't want to. There are other ways to soften the impact."
"Alcohol," Gibbs said.
The smile in Daniel's voice was clear. "Not what we recommend. Drugs aren't particularly helpful either."
"What then?" Gibbs asked.
"Some men find it helpful to write it down. If you're not the journaling type, send yourself an email. It's like stashing the memory in a safe deposit box: Put it on paper so you don't have to keep it in your mind all the time.
"Sometimes splitting your focus helps. If there's something you like to do that takes concentration, use the time you're doing it to let the memories come. It's like putting a rock in the river: It slows the flow and can get the brain more used to handling it. Go to the driving range, the batting cages, play video games, whatever it is you like to do that can capture almost all of your focus but still leave a little space for the memories to process."
"Tactical Precision," Gibbs said.
"Say again?" Daniel said. Gibbs didn't. He understood what the young man was saying. His usual hobby – woodwork – didn't require the kind of focus and concentration Daniel was talking about, but spending some time on the long gun range might. He was pretty sure his accuracy would be all over the place considering how badly his hands were shaking, but that might actually help his focus.
"You shouldn't discount talking about it. I've never met a guy who regretted going to therapy, or support groups. Some don't get as much out of it, but no one wishes they hadn't gone."
When Gibbs didn't continue, Daniel did. "There are other kinds of therapy besides talking. The simplest help for dissociation is what we call grounding techniques."
"I'm not there," Gibbs said.
After a second while the connection was made, Daniel agreed. "That's right. This isn't your first trauma?"
"Most recent of many," Gibbs said, surprising himself.
"Which makes it more likely you'll have dissociative episodes. Trauma builds on itself. This new trauma is going to bring back the memories of all the others, and all together they overwhelm a lot faster. Even those memories that have been processed properly and haven't led to trauma symptoms can add to the problem."
Gibbs sighed. He switched the phone to the other ear stood up. He moved over to the project he was working on and picked up a sanding block, tossing it lightly into the air.
"Tell me how you dealt with trauma before," Daniel suggested. Gibbs said nothing. That was the problem, really. He had never actually dealt with any of it. Repressed it, ignored it, buried it in work and used it as a catalyst to make himself a stronger and more focused agent. But never actually processed it. Or so Ducky had told him more times than he could remember.
"Haven't," he admitted finally.
"Maybe it's time to start," Daniel said simply.
"Maybe," Gibbs acknowledged. "Not easy."
"It never is. But we work at it, and fight through it, and in the end, we're better."
"'And some are stronger in the broken places'," Gibbs said quietly to himself. Daniel heard it.
"You're a Hemingway man," Daniel said.
"Long time ago," Gibbs said. "Lost her too."
Another second for Daniel to catch up and then: "I'm sorry to hear that."
Gibbs grunted in acknowledgment. That trauma was part of this too. Part of so much of him and who he was.
"Was your attacker someone you know?"
"No," Gibbs said.
"That's good. Do you have a significant other?
After a breath, Gibbs confirmed.
"Have you shared what happened?"
"Yeah."
"How'd that go?"
Unbidden, new thoughts joined the turmoil in his mind. He thought of Tobias, the last few days, the strength and the support. Then he thought of the night before. They'd played with a new toy Tobias had ordered online, a string of beads that felt so … intense … he thought he was going to lose his mind. If only he could have stopped the world in that moment.
Gibbs cleared his throat. "He's fine."
"I bet he's not," Daniel said. "But I'm glad you think he is. It means he's being supportive." Gibbs put the block down and picked up a dust brush, almost absentmindedly starting to sweep sawdust from around the project.
"He wishes I'd made a different decision," Gibbs said after a minute.
"Becoming a victim of sexual assault is never the result of any single decision," Daniel said, "and it's not your fault no matter what decisions you made."
"My fault it was me. One of us was going to get it and I made the decision."
There was a long silence on the other end. "Why don't you tell me about it?" Daniel said finally.
...to be continued...