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Evil? Maybe It's Just Fear + Expediency

The majority of "evil" -- or just nastiness -- I think is less due to malice, hate, or cruelty.

I think the majority of bad things people do happen because they're (1) afraid, and (2) they take the expedient course.

Fear is a mess, of course. Scared people do all kinds of idiot moves.

(Which isn't to say that fear is irrational. Maybe the fear is justified. But scared people do stupid and crazy things.)

But fear... fear is probably okay, even. If you work through it. If you understand it. If you take time and work at it.

A thousand words for Thursday

On Getting Real

I mentioned in yesterday's post that I've been on my own since I was 16, without saying very much about the circumstances. I don't plan to discuss much about the circumstances here, or possibly at all, other than to say that part of those circumstances not only caused my untimely emancipation but also a not so healthy case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

For the first few years after my escape, PTSD manifested itself primarily through avoidance, though possibly also through disruptive, destructive behavior, though I can't be sure that wasn't just part of my personality. But then, who really knows what was a natural part of my persona and what was PTSD or if they can even be separated. Maybe there's no manifestation of PTSD, but simply the way I've processed a rather horrific period of my life which happened to take place during the prime developmental time of adolescence, a way of being wired to survive that now needs to short circuit.

I said it originally manifested through avoidance , which basically meant I avoided everything that could have reminded me of my life before say, the age of 16. I stayed away from friends and family, I drank to excess every chance I got, and at first, dabbled in quite a few drugs, though I did pick and choose in that area and wouldn't allow myself to get into the really creepy ones...except LSD. I kind of liked that a lot. Not for the hallucinations but for the wildness and hilarity that usually ensued. I usually laughed a lot and I really needed laughter. I really needed anything that could help me forget what had happened and what was happening as I struggled to survive without support...except for from friends. I was fortunate to have supportive friends that tried their best to help me in whatever way they could, but hey, they were kids, too. None of us knew what was going on or what to do about it. My friends tried to help me keep a roof over my head I couch surfed from house to house for years, rarely staying anywhere for long and often never knowing where i'd sleep the next week. My friends gave me rides to whereever I needed to go, sometimes just handing me the keys to their cars. It was thanks to them that I made it through High School at all. Whoa. I didn't mean to go into all that, it's just hard to figure out, well, like painting a picture, it's hard to figure out how much paint different parts of the picture actually need. How much background info does this entry need to convey the place? I think that probably gives the lay person enough to get the idea.

Sounds like scary times, huh? You'd think so, and I admit that there were a few times that I was nearly paralyzed with fear, but for the most part? Well, I kind of remember having a whole lot of fun in all honesty. Thanks to other mental defense mechanisms like denial and disassociation, it was pretty easy to immerse myself in the present and my present seemed to be surrounded by fun, interesting people for the most part and like a leaf in a stream I went with the flow and either was extremely lucky or extremely well-looked after by God. I managed to survive that period without taking anything too far...just barely. Many girls in a similar situation think they have just one option, one tool: use their bodies to survive. I didn't have to do that. It was actually very important to me that I didn't.

Again, I digress, but that's what you get with stream of consciousness writing. I was actually planning to talk about some new developments with the PTSD. So I never really did get that taken care of. I went to therapy a few times, knowing that I must have this ticking time bomb of neuroses just waiting to drive me crazy, but for the most part, I was able to pull off a pretty spectacular life, eventually putting myself through college, finding a job that I loved, then a man that I truly loved and now I'm all snug and secure in my sweet little life where I get to still be who I am and still loved. Cue PTSD. We recently moved from a little mountain hamlet where I'd been blessed to have my car break down at the tail end of adolescence, and where I was able to lick my wounds, heal and do all of the cool stuff I just mentioned above. And something happened.

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