(I’ve been avoiding blogging because I’m in the middle of hauling this antiquated pile of code across to a new server and adding content complicates matters, but what the hell. I refuse to be silenced! Even by my own common sense.)
When I was a kid something nasty happened to me. Not terribly nasty by world standards – in fact a normal person would have completely shrugged it off in a couple of days. But to a naive, overly sheltered, undiagnosed autistic kid it was devastating. I don’t think it’s inaccurate to say that it gave me PTSD. It broke me badly and left me with fears and insecurities that I’ve lived with for over 35 years.
Except I woke up on Monday last week, and they were gone. Vanished. Evaporated. Disintegrated. They’ve run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. They are an ex-terror.
Maybe years of therapy have actually worked? Or is it that getting older makes you more content with life thing?
It’s weird, but probably good?
I guess we’ll see what happens next.
