Or, maybe I’m not that nice a guy, part 2.

I have realized that it really comes down to limits. Boundaries. Without some kind of outer limit to my niceness, I can’t set boundaries to protect myself and my interests.

It’s a difficult subject to really get a grip on. Because I am not talking about the more obvious kinds of boundaries. I definitely have those. There are things I will and will not put up with and for the most part, I trust my emotions to tell me when to fight back.

Subject to verification by my reason, of couse. Sigh.

No. what I am talking about is subtler and more existential. I often feel wide open and vulnerable in life. That’s why I used to talk about feeling like the wind blows right through me and used imagery like being naked in the Arctic and such.

I think my abandonment issues play a big role in that. I really was abandoned as a child, emotionally speaking. No friends, no family support, etc et al ad nauseum. And then there was my broken antenna isolating me further and pushing me even deeper into my ice cold tomb.

Quite the double whammy.

Had I been raped when I was older, perhaps I would have retained the strength to react to my abandonment with anger and learned to use that anger to keep the fires of my ambition stoked and propel me into some kind of world conquering type life.

Or at the very least had enough strength to learn to protect myself in a healthy and engaged way instead of simply withdrawing deeper and deeper into myself.

But I was only four when I was raped, and it destroyed me inside.

That has to be the reason I responded how I did. I remember taking my mind away during the rape, like so many victims of sexual assault. I told myself this wasn’t real, this isn’t really happening, and withdrew into my mind in order to survive the trauma.

And, as I have said before, I never really came back. FRom that point on, I did everything from that place in my mind, and therefore I did it rather clumsily and weakly because I was doing it from one or two steps removed from reality.

And that has continued unto this very day. I types this to you from that icy cage within that might be killing me but it keeps the world away from me and makes sure nothing can touch me, EVER, and thus it is doing its job.

It was a shock when I discoered this snarling, crazed, psychotically angry animal screaming NOBODY FUCKING TOUCH ME inside me. I would not have suspected that something so raw and utterly insane seethed at the heart of my crystalline cage.

Remember how I used to talk about being just a scared little animal inside?

Well it turns out that animal isn’t just scared. It’s pissed. It is the cornered rat, desperate and terrified and freaking the fuck out. Fear and rage and tension and agitation level are all completely maxed and the adrenalin taps are all the way open. And it is ready to go full psycho on anyone who even looks like they are moving toward it.

Poor little thing. Like a bear that has stumbled into an outlying suburb, it doesn’t understand anything about where it is or what is happening to it or what all these strange lights and sounds mean and it is thoroughly freaking out.

That’s what happens when you are damaged and abandoned at a very young age. That’s why seemingly normal everyday situations can leave me overwhelmed and panicky and even when I handle them well, it takes a whole lot out of me.

A big part of me is stuck in the panic from being raped so long ago. Therefore the distance between myself and conscious panic is far shorter than in a healthy person.

Thus its status as my primary trauma. It’s the one that made all the others possible. If, in theory, I could open it up and finish processing it, a very large part of my strength and vitality would be returned to me and I would be far better off.

And I am getting there. The further I go along my road to recovery, the closer I get to being able to handle the Big One. These blog entries of mine are getting more and more intimate and I feel like I am clearing the road of debris and obstacles so that when the time comes to finally face the Big One, I will be able to focus on it exclusviely.

Kind of a rambling metaphor, but it gets the job done.

Wow. Once more I veered wildly away from the niceness issue. Well done, psychologicla defenses. You so sneaky!

The key issue, I think, is that I need to modify my self-image to include and accept a limited version of niceness. That would mean giving myself the kind of permission to be unreasonable and emotional that I have been talking about for a while now.

It all boils down to permission to be human.

And that also entails limitations on my sense of my own power and responsibility as well. Part of the curse of the unopposed and/or undefeated life is that I have never discovered the limitations of my abilities and so, be default, I have ended up with a feeling like there aren’t any.

And if I had less of a deep seated sense of responsibility, I might revel in this feeling of unlimited power and go out to conquer the world with my cocktastic awesomeness.

And the irony is, that would attract people who wanted to put me in my place, and God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, one of them might actually succeed, and then I would know the limitations of my power and be able to calm the fuck down some.

But instead, I practice an excess of restrained out of fear of hurting people.  Like Gulliver in Lilliput, a giant amongst pygmies, terrified his slightest motion will kill someone or destroy someone’s home.

I would like to think that there is someone out there who could truly put me in my place. Someone who could not only withstand my full strength (which I have never used on anyone) but who could actually take me on and win.

I mean, I can’t be the smartest and strongest of will of mind and wit person in the world, can I? There’s got to be someone out there who can defeat me.

Maybe I should set up some kind of tournament,

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.