Leaving footprints. | #PTSDchat
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Leaving footprints.

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Friday, April 13, 2018, 2010 Hrs.

How is it possible that some people don’t want you to leave your own impression on the world? How in good conscience can anyone expect that you should leave an imitation of their footprint instead of that of your own? Where did common sense fall away to, that we now live in an expectant society, most of which is expectant of others to be someone other than themselves?

 

Are we ready to break these chains and get our own identities back? I have done it, and I’m happier for having done so.

 

I had to do this, when I was a lot younger than I am at this moment, because I had a person of close friendship with my family, try to sexually molest me. He had the indiscretion to assume that my age and my small size would make me a prime target. He under martial arts training came into play, he never expected for me to break his nose, but that’s what the seven-year-old me, decided was prudent to do in response to his suggestion that I take hold of his “private toy”. I reacted calmly enough that it threw him off-guard, and then, with an upstroke of the heel of my hand, he was a blood-spattered bastard, bleeding profusely from his nose and screaming like the cowardly ass that he was!

I don’t possess any morbidly abusive stories outside of this one in so far as someone attempting to abuse me as a child goes. Maybe my story is not so alarming because of the way that it ended, but fate played his sorry ass that night, and I don’t feel any need to be nice and use “soft” language in describing what he did or what I feel about him in response to his actions. I’m conflicted as to whether or not this site is ready to hear this honest of an assessment of such an event.

My whole life has been deleteriously affected because of the actions of one asswipe who thought he had the right to victimize a child. I hated him for a long time, but then, later on, I had the opportunity to square things up with him, (in a way!) I kicked the hell out of him when he went to tease me one day, I was a week away from going into the army, so I figured it was as good a time as any to put things right, since he decided that he had the right to screw with me! I kicked the holy sh*t out of him, and I enjoyed it! I don’t know whether or not to be sad or glad about this, because by nature I am not a violent person, to do so, made me feel sick to my stomach. But as I recalled the sights and the smells of “that day”, it became more clear to me that he was due for what he was about to get from me.

It started evenly, I offered him the first hit. Seriously, I offered him my open face with my hands behind my back, he’d have had to hit me with a steel beam to hurt me and even he knew it! He took his swing, connected, and then I went off on him. First to the “berries”, and then a short punch to his chest, knocking him to his knees, then, I asked him, death or live with the shame I’m going to place on you by going inside and letting it be known why you just got your ass kicked?

Let’s say that I served, so I must have gone inside and told the story. I hated him right up until that moment when his eyes sank into his feet. When his heart rate gave away the fact that it was all true! Right then, I dropped the despisement I had held for him for almost thirteen years! This is a personal story, one that spells out some of the causes of my pains and my anger. This is the person who taught me that hatred is an energy-eating-emotion. But it took me a long time to learn it. I had let so much pass me by. I lost time with family and friends, no girlfriends in high school no dates, just training and focusing on the day when I’d get to kick this jackasses ass! I was prepared and I was willing, he had to provide me with the moment of impact and he did it to perfection. I crossed him into a state of pain that I’ll bet he took t his eventual grave.

I trained my body, and my mind to focus and to be focused no matter what was going on around me. I studied the arts of meditation and usage of meditative philosophy to direct my actions and my reactions to situations. It was really unfair to him that day, but he earned unfairness when he tried to molest me!

There is no good ending to this story, this is where it took me, my attempted molester and sexual predator, laid on his back, crying like a whipped puppy! I have to live knowing that I laid a trap for another human being, I used positive processes to create an extremely negative reaction. I polluted the world with my anger, I protracted the energy that made me stronger and made it into a weakness that has since caused a demolition of my unified ecological harmony. I became a pollutant in the world’s identity, I ate of the apple of discontent and disharmony, and I can’t lie, I enjoyed it, when I finally saw all of the pieces I had dreamed of for so long, finally fall neatly into place. I left my footprints on his face that ay, but I also implanted them into the clay of emotional illness, of where I am still stuck, even today.

Me, the practitioner of gentle and hard martial arts, I became the hatred I felt in my heart for this asswipe who targeted me as a victim, a pollutant that became a soldier, a paramedic, a paratrooper an a believer in the bigger lie. The one that says no one matters if he or she is not a part of a group that follows orders.

This is a story for another time.

This blog was about one of the stones I stepped on to make it to emotional illness.

I can only hope that no one is offended, because it’s my truth, and we need truth here if we have it no place else.

#HarmonyWithSelfProducesHarmonyWithOthers

#TheFormerCombatMedic

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