crazy / depression / Sociopolitical crap

She Who Roars.


Right, so it wasn’t all that long ago when I received one of those annoying Facebook Instant Message Chat Popup Hailing Textbox Conversation-Starter thingys. Honestly though, it wasn’t the chat format I loathed (I shouldn’t blame IM). It was The Person who’d just suddenly appeared out of nowhere right there on my screen without any warning, right there with a cheerfully forced hello. This was then followed by forced small talk, followed by an uncomfortable string of non-apology apologies, the kind of apologies blaming anything OTHER than the person dishing out the apologies.

The Person was lacking in self-awareness, as ever. The Person blamed PTSD (“Did you know I had PTSD from my service?”). I wanted very much to tell both The Person and his PTSD to bugger off, while another part of me wanted to educate The Person and inform him that his PTSD wasn’t caused from his military service. He’d never been a real soldier. He’d never seen or experienced actual war trauma. His supposed PTSD would’ve been more likely caused by his lousy upbringing. But I let him…Yes, I stupidly let him (and I cannot believe I’m using this godawful term, but it suits) mansplain away his condition as an excuse for his general awfulness. I stupidly indulged The Person in further small talk.

I’d been stupidly indulging him this way, going back to my old pattern of cowering- submissive nice girl.

(Meanwhile, I’d been — and still am —  suffering from air hunger, dizziness, headaches, rapid palpitations, insomnia, shakiness, and nausea due to Lorazepam withdrawals. I’d been prescribed that hell because of my insomnia and panic attacks. However, The Person would never have understood the goddamned irony about having PTSD.)

So anyway, I let my vulnerability take over. For empaths, it’s kinda sorta easy to be vulnerable. The Person, however, was quick to grab hold of it and shred it just as he used to do. I’d opened a door for him as soon as our small talk focused on family. I’d mentioned my mom’s death, stupid me, but it seemed a natural response to his mentioning his stepfather’s heart attack.

Of course, that opened a door, the wrong door.

The Person was instantly all remorseful, all kindness and sympathies, not the sort of thing I’d wanted to hear in the first place, but I told him it was fine…I was fine. We were dealing with it. Etc. Contrived platitudes, etc.

Then he attempted to wax nostalgic with me.

He’d remembered how wonderful she was. How sad though. Just how very sad though.


Should’ve stopped right then, right there. I know this now. The Person then got all weird and said he’d remembered when he was at the house — while I was off at college and my dad was on TDY during the Gulf crisis — and he and my mom had had such nice, little private chats, just the two of them. Naturally, he didn’t elaborate. He just let it hang there.

But that was the sort of creepy as fuck thing he always did, like a true sociopath, where he’d offer up half of the information but tossed in some sickening implication to go with it.

The Person — That Person — doesn’t know that mere months after that conversation, he’d inspired me. Yes, he’d actually inspired me…

I’m currently in the process of heading a Domestic Violence Awareness Month campaign on my campus in October. I’ve already set the wheel in motion with the help of some great people (and am still meeting with more of them), and it’s going to be something fierce. Next year, it will be even better, I predict, because this year’s is merely laying out the groundwork for the next.

All it took was a crack in the door for me to get my will back all over again.

Funny how that worked out, isn’t it?



In response to the Daily Prompt “fierce.”


11 thoughts on “She Who Roars.

  1. Hello, Weirdly I was trialling citalopram for 8 weeks just there. It left me wiped out so came off it and the withdrawl is just shocking. Insomnia especially. Never would have though they’d be so destructive. I tried fluoxitine as a teenager (perhaps for bad attitude syndome at that stage) and they had zero side effects I cant believe this citalopram shizz! End now please! Jaysus. I saw you mwntioned buspirone before and that is was a guddun for anxiety. Was curious about it but looks like they dont prescribe it here. Anyway, samesies!

    Liked by 1 person

    • There have been numerous studies conducted on the withdrawal effects of benzodiazepines, but for some reason, it seems as if so many in the psychiatric community have absolutely NO knowledge — sort of a mass form of willful ignorance — on the very drugs they so casually prescribe to treat anxiety. If I’d not found a community of others who were going through the same thing, I would not have learned about the research — such as Dr. Ashton’s manual — on benzo withdrawal.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. The Person sounds like a total dick, but even so I’m glad he at least inspired you to channel your energy into something positive. (Also, so sorry about your mom’s passing).
    What you just described about him randomly popping up and forcing conversation is what I simultaneously love and hate about social media. As much as I like keeping in touch with old friends/acquaintances/co-workers/whathaveyou I would have otherwise probably never talked to again, all it takes is one person to just pop up out of nowhere and sour the experience.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The Person is a flat-out bag of awfulness in shiny packaging. (What is it about previous mistakes coming back when you’re happy? Do they have some sort of psychic ability or something — “Hey, she’s doing great. Time to pop in and scare the shit out of her!”). Ugh.

      Oh, and thanks kindly for the sympathies re. my mom. She’s been gone for 4 years now, and while I’ve finally reached the acceptance stage of grief, it certainly didn’t help when the land-shark from my past had to say what he did and re-open nearly healed wounds (bastard).

      And what you indicated about the popping up thing on social media…I don’t even like talking on phones…to force a chat on the screen…I get you. Just. No.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I see a few using PTSD to exscuse all kinds of awful shit they get up to. Then you ask them what they use to do in the service, “oh, I was a mechanic. Oh, i was a clerk.” Dude, what caused your trauma? Was it that time the PX ran out of Twinkies? It’s utter bull. Anyhooeys, I’ve long admired your strength…you know this. Your ex is a complete waste of a human being and I’m glad to see that he is unable to get the best of you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well, thank ye kindly, as always. 🙂 Re. the PTSD excuse, I’ve a colleague — an army vet psychologist — who subscribes to the theory that all who served, no matter the position, more than likely have PTSD. I don’t know why — maybe the very idea of the POSSIBILITY of death? Who knows? I’m just gobsmacked like you though that there are those who just casually offer it up as an excuse for their reprehensible behavior. With The Person, I find it much worse coming from him because I teach/have taught a number of kids who’d survived sheer hell over in Afghanistan and Iraq. It’s ten steps past absolute offensiveness, delving into the realm of the psychopathic. Fuck that guy.

      Liked by 2 people

  4. I feel for you having been in a similar situation myself with That Person (not once but twice, as in two different That Persons and I like an idiot fell for it … twice), making excuses for how they treat you because they have problems.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ditto that. Feel for you as well (and thank you for your empathy, btw). I wonder if it’s just how they were raised, that whole being unable to just flat-out apologize rather than offer pseudo apologies and blame whatever or whomever else they can. Shitty People.


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