many, many years ago, i realized in a biofeedback workshop i couldn't close out sound. as soon as i started to relax a horn from the street or the whirring of a fan would startle me. (as i've said, i now sleep with earplugs as a matter of course.)
maybe it all came from my four month highs-school time in bluffton, indiana. i had a roll-away bed in the living room. the room had no door. my alcoholic uncle would come home, repose by the stove, smoking a cigarette. once he'd dazed himself enough with memories, he'd come sit by my bed and tell me about visiting the whores in ft. wayne. "one i lay on all night. we joked about it the next day. never marry a catholic. they'll get you in the end."
i lay there with my stomach getting tighter and tighter. my personality fled underground as my brain gradually filled full of holes. an older person's disappointment with life can certainly affect you.
and then there's time somewhat before this when my mother appeared in my room. in a breathless voice she told me my favorite english teacher 'HAD BEEN CAUGHT WITH SOME MEN.' we all know what that means. he'd been shipped back to the states the next day, peroxided hair and all. he'd praised my imagination, appointed me sports editor on the paper, wrapped himself in the schoolroom curtains while wildly making a point. he'd rock back and forth on the desk, informing us what constituted manners. alas, my mother's jealousy shot me in the foot. writing became a clandestine activity.
of course, maybe all this mental decay came later. from the french girl who seduced me in an english youth hostel. afterwards, she told me maybe she had syphilis. boy, did she hate men. my nurse sister gave me a heavy dose of penicillin in frankfurt. did it prevent those wicked little termites from doing there worst? after forty years i still can't be sure.
yes, i keep falling for borderline personalities. maybe i've finally learned my lesson. today, i received a note from eva bidding me goodbye and condemning me for my selfishness, even after i wrote i couldn't spend more than two hours with anyone. my focus goes. i damn near kill myself driving my truck. it's a luckless limitation have. o boy, am i relieved! i do feel she's in a good place and will do well. she's moved to a new town and entered therapy. now it's time for me to shake my head vigorously and clear my mind.
here's an account of therapy from the past. we are who we are: