When you have a wound you keep teasing at the danger period is when you wake up.
Articles from Harrangue Man
It was on the other day—streaming through the big TV—with a pair of YTs playing games. One was American—super American—the other a British girl.My anxiety was up and I wasn't even in the room when she started screaming. It was happy screaming but my brain didn't hear that as happy, it heard it as an incoming threat. I asked theboy to turn it down at first then eventually had to ask him to turn it off because I was in and out of the room.
In the RPG Call of Cthulhu, set in the 1920s as human investigators chase down and gibber at Lovecraftian monsters, they have a sanity mechanic. You start off with, from memory, a stat value x5 (creating a number from 5–100) and you typically go down from there.
One of the crap aspects of PTSD—and there are so many—is being scared by sudden, loud noises.
You'd think it a paradox but theboy got a Ninjago Lego set and as he's building it the team members that came with the set are fighting or training and making a lot of HI-YA!-style noises.They're not PTSD friendly noises so I am staying well away from that rowdy melee.Who are ninjas; I mean I know the classic ninja outfit is actually a puppeteers costume from dramas that used stagecraft with that costume to represent their stealth on stage.
In the '80s to have a volcano face, to me at least, meant severe acne.
With thanks to Tenacious D.In all the efforts to re-secure the tarp on the hutch I hadn't properly closed the side hatch and as such one of the Polish Scruffs escaped. It was a hell of a thing to corner—it can't fly but it can flap and gain about three feet and it flapped / ran into the weird water heater room at the back of the house that contains assorted gardening crap.
I have a womb-warped body with short arms and short fingers. Combining that with injury to my ability to handle objects due to PTSD it means I struggle to do basic things. We had fierce winds and lashing rain so I tried to move the cover on the chicks' hutch. Only I fucked it up and had to take it off and try and put it back on. But with my short arms, my inability to handle fine objects like small D claps meant I could not put it back on.
I was interacting with the guy manning the till and for some reason felt I needed to defend the still wearing of the bike helmet."It's not to hide that I'm bald," I happily confessed, "I just can't be arsed taking it off."Besides, if I did then with all the sweat my hair would sprout out like on a mad professor."I got home, took off the helmet then happened to see myself in a mirror.Every last strand was standing at sweaty attention; I looked like a character from Dr.