Life-long Victims (partial entry)

(During construction, pieces were cut and pasted back in and repositioned and misplaced and subsequently lost forever in the bottomless garbage bin under the delete key; so you’re right in thinking it reminds you of Frankenstein’s Monster. I got so bored of this torso with only some of its appendages just lurking around in my “unpublished” list so here it is green, lumbering, and half-formed.)
There’s some ancient bit of insight that says, “No one escapes childhood unscathed.” I don’t know who said it, but there is truth in it. That’s not to say it’s entirely true; there are those rare people who have charmed youths and who enter adulthood under a veil of naiveté and optimism. But that’s not most of us; so there is some truth to it, or at least to the idea of it.
The thing is, most people had a personal hell to endure through childhood, and most people turn out ok as adults. I mean, yes, we carry our baggage, but we’re not usually severely demented or damaged. But there are some people who even after years of being removed from it, bearing children, experiencing religious conversions, and all sorts of things that ought to change a person or heal them or at least dull the point of the childhood pain who cling to that gaping wound in innocence.
They are perpetual victims and try to claim martyrdom to their unique flavor of personality disorders and father issues. And everydbody around them has to step lightly because, “She has abandonment issues,” and “As a child, he had a bad relationship with his father,” and “She had so many problems growing up that now she projects all her baggage onto other people so they look like the basket cases instead of herself.” To which all I want to reply with is, “Oh well.” And I’m not being mean or coarse or unsypathetic. I have my own history to contend with, but I think it’s about time we stop making the bad circumstances of our lives rule who we choose to be.
The biggest problem here is not that we recognize our psychological problems (and those of others) or even why we have them, but that we make someone else accountable for how we behave as a result of them. And then we make them pay. We probably don’t have access to the originator of our problem so we slowly and daily act out our vengence on the people around us. It’s sublte yet pungent. I bet we don’t even know we do it.
I guess what irritates me about our society’s reliance on the excuse of childhood trauma is our inability to implement and fully sucumb to whatever particular coping method we’ve chosen to help chase away the nightmare of our youths.

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