A delicious part of trauma is the reliving of it; you get sucked back there again to that moment with all its attendant joy.Another yummy part are the anger storms that sweep across you as you recall an incident and all the failure that led to it. Then there are the deep, raging storms fuelled by childhood torment caused by the institutional failures that cruelled the younger you.They rage the longest because you were an innocent; whatever you did back then you were a child and if you fucked
Articles from Harrangue Man
In the shed for laptop seating I use a battered wooden chair—the last survivor of a second hand heavy duty wooden dining set bought some decades before. Only its solid woodeness means a sore arse after about 20 minutes.I had a cushion for the seat but due to IBS and thin ladies PJ pants I had seared one side of it with taint from my taint. So I turned the cushion over.But you can only do that once and it happened again.
My son convinced me to take the internal way to the exit instead of going out the entrance to walk back to the car but even with internal shortcuts it's a hell of a long walk from the front to the back of IKEA—especially for someone who struggles to walk.At one point I semi-lost my shit and yelled "I JUST WANT TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF IKEA!".My son, who is less than 10, had to admonish me to lower my voice.
It made my penis bigger on the inside!
Rubbery confessionI'm back in treatment for recurring bouts of distress. When I have these moments I've been forgetting where I am and what is happening to me—nor caring if I do not stop. I have OCPD which means picking at my body. I chose a part of my face and it got nasty. I cried to my doctor and he upped my head dose and prescribed a cream. So far the cream is holding against the urge to pick it but I had one last crack at ripping the scar from my face before applying.
A bunchy of crappy crap landed on me and I had 48 hours of acute distress with all the trimmings—howling despair, physical pain and Mr Logic not being at home. The latter is the hardest one because when you fall into the void then reason falls away.
Having chewed through yet another cheapie from K-Mart I rode into town on my tricycle and bought a heavy duty gaming mechanical keyboard. It throbs with an unearthly green light. So far the keys have held up to my rapid pounding and they don't feel like they're going to lose their characters after but a week of use. It seems and feels robust.Finally a keyboard that suits my typing style of furious, frenetic and a lot of backspacing.
theboy is the age I was when I got pulled out of a public school and thrust into an all boys private school which is great for people whose bodies work swell and who are tall; it's not so good for the little, non-sporty guy.
One of the many fails of my body, and curiously right from near start of life, is my propensity for middle ear infections. Without antibiotics I'd have been dead from multiple infections as a child. I have stents in my ear drums to let out discharge from the middle ear but it's a two-way street and I have to keep water out of my ears lest it enter the middle ear then pool with intent.
I have a weird body that does unusual things; one is the production and expulsion of "lung lollies", a combo of mucus, phlegm and lung-muck that I can (and do) cough from within.Though I use a plug-in keyboard for the laptop, I hate the fiddly little keys and the weird position your wrists rest in when using the one in the machine, my lolly was expelled some distance and went deep into the crevices of my laptop's keys that lay behind the plug in. I head to tease the phlegm out with a McDonald