The Sound of My Phone Buzzing Still Feels Like a Threat Sometimes

I know it is just a vibration. I know it is just a sound. But that little buzz from my phone still shoots adrenaline through my ribs like it is a warning siren.

It does not matter what the notification says. Does not matter if it is a food delivery update or some spam text offering solar panels. My body does not know that. My nervous system only knows one thing. Danger. Because for a long time, that buzz meant a fight was starting. It meant I was being accused of something I did not do. It meant court threats, custody drama, character attacks, or getting blamed for someone else’s chaos. All of it packed into a single screen lighting up at two in the morning.

And no matter how much healing I do or how many months pass, the reflex stays. Heart races. Breath shortens. Hand hesitates. That is what trauma does. It does not leave. It waits. Quietly. Until something familiar shows back up.

Some people flinch at loud noises. Some duck when doors slam. I flinch at message pings. At green bubbles turning blue. At three dots that vanish with no reply.

This is not about being overly sensitive or dramatic. This is about the kind of conditioning that forms when peace becomes rare. When the absence of messages means safety and the presence means incoming chaos. When one person used my calm against me and another tried to paint me as unstable for reacting at all.

I do not have a good resolution here. Sometimes I toss my phone in another room just to remember what it feels like to exist without bracing. But most days, I still check it. Because even if the buzzing feels like a threat, the silence feels worse.