Under the hood of the pram



Every now and then, I have a tendency to proverbially throw my toys out of my pram. Sometimes my life gets frustrating, especially now that it’s settled down because there’s less to frustrate me. It does take a lot for me to lose my patience and often, my anger will be directed toward an easy target, which makes itself available. It was an avoidable situation, if more thought had been applied but my reaction was slightly more venomous than usual.

I’m not in the habit of withholding information and I certainly don’t lie any more, as it’s got me into too much trouble in the past. There are some things which are relevant to more than two parties though and each besides me, needs to know only how things affect them, if at all. It may seem a little secretive but it’s no more than need-to-know. My slate is clear with family and I am providing ongoing finance for at least one of them. I’m doing what I can with the money I have.

The life that I’ve lead has left a lot in its wake and although I’m square with most, sometimes old debts catch up with me. Late last week, a creditor came calling: not physically but some negotiation was necessary. One particular situation is no longer a situation. The details are private between myself and others but there are still others who I’m indebted to, or who think that I am.

The way that my damaged brain works, is that it needs to focus. I was concentrating on finances. When I’m diverted from concentration, I get irritated. I can ignore phone calls; I can ignore a stunningly attractive 17-year-old girl in the room. I cannot ignore the kind of ignorance which set me off recently: that has to be dealt with first and in making it a priority, I deal with it fast and violently because it’s in the way of more important things.

The other coping mechanism was to remove certain distractions from my mind, specifically those who I feel I’m indebted to, or who feel that I owe them. With financial distractions out of my mind, I was better able to deal with monetary necessities. In my annual Facebook clear-out then, I removed a few of those distractions. One had told me previously that they wanted nothing further to do with me, so it was a subconscious act but one or more others may have been a little hasty, as they’re friends I don’t need to run away from but whom I need to understand the situation, even if they still don’t understand me.

In addition and to clarify a point, late last week a satirical website appeared to have copied an idea of mine, which I had posted in a public forum: as such it was published and if the satirical article was based on my draft idea, then it could constitute a breach of intellectual copyright. That situation is being looked into and is completely different to contractual breaches, which include sharing confidential passwords and revealing plotlines of incomplete and unpublished work.

This may all seem a little dramatic on my part but it’s how the psychopath deals with things. Potential psychopathy aside, it’s how PTSD affects me. I really trust that all who know me can understand how someone might be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, after being robbed at knifepoint, drunk himself into the gutter, then spent a year on the street with all which that can entail: violent encounters, attempts on my life and many acts of petty crime. You have to live it to fully appreciate PTSD and I wouldn’t advise that, nor getting involved in the situations that lead to it.

A pleasant weekend of rest after sorting a few things out, means that I’m back in my cage now and not about to throw things out. It was safer for the people involved temporarily being removed, so that they didn’t get eaten. Anyone who feels they’ve been abandoned wrongly on Facebook, may approach the cage if they wish.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s