Bad Habits
Aug. 16th, 2022 10:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootForgiveness comes really hard.
I can do the latter when things stop hurting. Then I forgive because I don't care, or because I'm happy right now or because I really do see more clearly, and that's kind of pulled out the jagged glass. It's not exactly a triumph of virtue. Forgetting is easier, though still not second nature to me.
And I learn now, from people who know a bit more about about neurodiversity than I do, that some of my traits are extremely ND typical. It is reassuring to know that there is a kind of... I don't know, physical reason behind my endless over-reactions. I've enough wisdom not to treat inexorable resentment as some badge of willpower; it is a trivial childish fault in me, a petty thing that doesn't have any place in a healthy psyche. And as I really am in pursuit of happiness, I want this crap minimised.
But I do recall a very painful occurence from the Fringe way back when, around 30/40 years ago. And awful though it sounds, I honestly wish the perp as dead as a doornail. Still. How dreadful is this, that I would actually feel more satisfaction in seeing his grave than that of the man who tried to assault/kill me? Crazy, no reasoning to it, just pain. But I must respect this latter, however stupid the source. Here's what I hate so much; how can a memory over half my life ago just lie there and be forgotten, and then turn up, vivid and fresh as though I had just cut myself?
This is the point of umbrage, I think, of going over and over an injury in one's head. Absurd as it is, it actually has its place in healing. Stage 1: the pain/anger gets built up out of all proportion. Stage 2: it feeds itself and multiplies if it can. Stage 3: It fades because the brain gets bored. That's when reason and sensible perception can get involved. Stage 4: it dies.
I never did that with this incident, I just tried to forget and put it behind me. Had I been trivial and dragged it out, and nursed my injury like a big weepy baby (which, let's face it, I was) I'd be over it by now.
To clarify, what happened was no crime, great or otherwise, it just hurt me and had a long term effect. I bring it out now, I pop it like a balloon, like a pimple. I forget and go enjoy the Fringe.
I can do the latter when things stop hurting. Then I forgive because I don't care, or because I'm happy right now or because I really do see more clearly, and that's kind of pulled out the jagged glass. It's not exactly a triumph of virtue. Forgetting is easier, though still not second nature to me.
And I learn now, from people who know a bit more about about neurodiversity than I do, that some of my traits are extremely ND typical. It is reassuring to know that there is a kind of... I don't know, physical reason behind my endless over-reactions. I've enough wisdom not to treat inexorable resentment as some badge of willpower; it is a trivial childish fault in me, a petty thing that doesn't have any place in a healthy psyche. And as I really am in pursuit of happiness, I want this crap minimised.
But I do recall a very painful occurence from the Fringe way back when, around 30/40 years ago. And awful though it sounds, I honestly wish the perp as dead as a doornail. Still. How dreadful is this, that I would actually feel more satisfaction in seeing his grave than that of the man who tried to assault/kill me? Crazy, no reasoning to it, just pain. But I must respect this latter, however stupid the source. Here's what I hate so much; how can a memory over half my life ago just lie there and be forgotten, and then turn up, vivid and fresh as though I had just cut myself?
This is the point of umbrage, I think, of going over and over an injury in one's head. Absurd as it is, it actually has its place in healing. Stage 1: the pain/anger gets built up out of all proportion. Stage 2: it feeds itself and multiplies if it can. Stage 3: It fades because the brain gets bored. That's when reason and sensible perception can get involved. Stage 4: it dies.
I never did that with this incident, I just tried to forget and put it behind me. Had I been trivial and dragged it out, and nursed my injury like a big weepy baby (which, let's face it, I was) I'd be over it by now.
To clarify, what happened was no crime, great or otherwise, it just hurt me and had a long term effect. I bring it out now, I pop it like a balloon, like a pimple. I forget and go enjoy the Fringe.
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