I hate when people tell me I have the perfect body. Especially men that barely know me.
Many of friends and even strangers tell me I should take the compliment. It's hard to give compliments about things like intelligence and humor because they are invisible things; not as easily seen as my "long legs", "gorgeous green eyes", and "quirky smile".
What many people don't understand is that taking that compliment is a hard pill to swallow after multiple men have tried and taken these parts of me. That when my friend tells me that I am beautiful it gives me the same anxiety as being held down by my perpetrator; even though this friend would never hurt me and means well when he tells me this.
The thing is this perfect body feels like a moving target, with the highest reward. Sex. Not just any sex, satisfying brag-worthy sex. That when I dress up in my favorite yellow dress and feel sexy as hell, there is a flip side that I have turned myself into a walk billboard advertising "Grab me by the pussy". When I feel sexy, my PTSD reminds me to be wary of all the eyes I will catch. While I am dressing up for myself, as an effort to love myself and care for myself it has a flip side.
While I accumulate familiar safe situations and good people in my life, they can still trigger that stress response. After years of therapy, I have molded the response into the hum of cortisol being released in my chest, a cramp in my gut, a buzz where my spine meets my brain. No matter who delivers the carefully constructed compliment, one or all of these alarms sound off. It's exhausting. Not only having them going off but the extra strength to turn it off when it's a safe person or in a safe situation. Sometimes it's just easier to let happen and let it turn itself off. Resistance is often the hardest path. It's true because it requires the most effort and is the most exhausting.
Some would say I should just desensitize these alarms all together but I have ended up in terrible situations one too many times by removing these alarms. When my friend tells me I am really pretty, it feels like practice for when the wrong man says it. An opportunity to keep my tongue sharp and my wits about me. It's like strengthening my Patronus for when the wrong men come and try to take my body, my happiness, my peace. What sweet nothings will they whisper to try and seduce me? No more letting my guard down. I am a survivor, not a victim. I am Human, not perfection. I carry these defense mechanisms with me because I no longer wish to allow anyone to try and take my body from me again.
Do not feel bad for not taking compliments. You do not have to accept anything that makes your alarms trigger. Just because they mean well does not mean that your discomfort, your truth, is not valid. You do not have to dull yourself or your senses to fit in. With the right work, PTSD and Anxiety can be your friends. They can be manageable like any other relationship. I can think of several situations in which my alarms have protected me from men who have paraded around like 'nice guys', 'feminist', 'friends' when really they were just luring me into a false sense of security. I encourage you to seek help learning how to co-exist with your PTSD or Anxiety, not just cope with it.
If you do not have PTSD or anxiety, understand that they can not just disappear. They can be generalized or specific. They can go away for different periods of time and sometimes they can appear with no trigger at all. At the end of the day, it's not about you, it is about a trigger someone else created and your friend is struggling to manage it. Sometimes your friend or partner just needs you to still be there when it's over. No advice. No motivational speech. No normalization. Just unconditional acceptance of their truth.