When a bone breaks, it heals, reforms, remodels for years after. But it's never as strong again. Surgery shows- in the way the connective tissue reforms. It's never as smooth and orderly as they way it was originally laid down. The pain will ease, function will return, but the disruption is permanent.
My own little irrational belief, and a theory to explain some elements of stigmata, is that of any wound that heals, can at any age reopen. As can all our life's wounds, given enough distress. If you tell me this is not supported by evidence, nonsensical, I will concede you are right, but, I still nurse the idea as seeming right. I don't mind being wrong. But come here and let me know you think me stupid, or mock me, here, in my home, on this odd theory, and you get the boot.
My father broke me emotionally. Wild, illogical accusations, baffling feats of incorrect mind reading, all escape routes blocked. Then I went and married a smart version of him, thinking it was just the stupidity causing all that misery. I had no defenses against an abusive manipulator who could talk sensibly. After he hit me, he would always apologize, and say all the right, insightful phrases to keep me strung along, leaving the implication that it was all my fault, really.
I have grown and healed, but any kind of irrational challenge is far more painful than it should be. So condescending, accusing assertions, in this, my safe place to speak my own mind, rattle me far more than seems appropriate.
The troll who struck me three times, did, after I packed my bags to leave, offer a sweet apology, which I believe as much as I do those of the ex after he slapped me.
I will never be any kind of a manager because of this deficit. I can be extremely accommodating with people, even if they are upset, up to a point. But when the nudge becomes a shove, I simply have to stop myself from killing them. I have no middle ground, no place from which to gauge a reasoned response. I tried to write several posts to warn, to set rules. When that didn't work, I fell apart rather than finding those people, and torching their homes. I hate confrontation, so I prefer people to see me as dangerous. Deep beneath is a well of rage, which horrifies and reassures me.
Have I ever mentioned I know how to shoot an M16? And, I'm a good shot? Had to for the Army. Just, you know, stray thought.
I have learned real calm with D, and with Moby. The pain is less, it is not gone.
Thank you with all my heart for all those who comforted me, and kept me from throwing away the work of five years. I could have just gone to the new blog, but I would have deeply grieved this one. I am not ready to leave here.
I won't be chased off.
I will be far less cautious in deleting posts, without explanation. I will consider the invite only blog option, but that seems so cold. It's just that I had three trolls in rapid succession, one of them a personal acquaintance that I need to stay on some kind of civil terms with, on top of the Inspection at work, and impending move. Skin thinner than usual.
I will never go to anyone else's blog to question their beliefs in gods, astrology, makeup, Disney, creationism, Republicans or ferrets. I may well rake them over the coals, in general, here. They are free to rebut on their own blog, but not here. Unless they offer a kind, reasonable, respectful, response. Maybe not even that, this week, please.