My friend once told me I was like a Vulcan, that's Star Trek, Mr. Spock, the XO and Science officer for your young kids that can't recall. Th reason why, wasn't because of my devotion to all things Logic, though that deserves it as well. But because I was devoid of emotion. Or at the very least, I never showed it, and never let it take control over me.
Like a Vulcan I've found it's necessary to repress emotion. I know that's the opposite of the current pop-psychobabble culture we live in, where everyone is supposed to be open, and understanding, mature and in touch with thier feelings.
But that isn't for me.
I can remember when I was young, four to six or there abouts, I used to have terrible bouts of rage. Something would happen, so minor, so insignificant, that I'd just explode. The phrase "All I saw was Red" and its like is often thrown about to express anger and violence. In my case, it was near a literal description. Just like someone had put some red tinted vaseline over my eyes, giving everything a blurry fiery look. People would hit me, kick me, even one time nail me with a two by four and it just wouldn't register at the time. All I could do was get my hands around whatever it was and punch, claw, rip, and tear at whatever it was. Not even the rough discipline of school yard scrapping, it was, according to my brother after one incident, "Like watchin' some werewolf in a movie maul someone".
I never really remembered what happened when I was like that. Usually just vague memories of "There was this guy, I did something to him, now he's on the floor bleeding".
I did my best to check my anger, and most any other emotion, after that. Star Trek did help actually, as I tried to be like Mr. Spock. Calm, collected, in control and ruled by Reason. It took a while, but I got the hang of it soon enough.
Course, my control and "lack of emotion" was disturbing to some people after my parent's divorced. They seemed determined that I must be some ticking timebomb after that. That I was just bottling it up and waiting to go off. That was hardly the truth. I just calmly, and rationally processed it. It happened, I reflected on it, realized it was inevitable, unchangeable, and hardly worth getting worked up about. I went through that process in about 10 minutes. I was done. I was 'cured' of any trauma it might have caused.
It still ended up getting me sent to the psychiatrist. I went, I nodded along, went through the motions. That girl doctor never really did understand me. Oh, she tried I suppose. She might have even been good at her job. There just wasn't anything there for her to do. No matter what was going on, she only focused on the divorce, thinking it was some root problem. With everyone else nodding along.
You know the behavior that lead people to think I was acting out about the divorce? It was 4th grade English and I wrote a funny little story about an Evil Communist Santa Robot who dropped biological weapons wrapped as gifts under every American Christmas Tree. Odd perhaps. But then again I was raised by military men and the Cold War was still fresh in people's memories.
I got out of the therapist fully intact. The only thing that it really effected was the weekly 11 AM meetings ruined my attendance record. Excused absenses, sure, but it was the only thing that made me miss that award at the end of the year.
Since then I've been a reserved person. I can count on one hand the number of times emotion slipped out of my control:
Reading the end of Dragons of Winter's Night, I cried. I still can't figure why, it was sad, sure, but totally cliche and obvious, other such scenes do not effect me. Wies and Hickman must really be masters at playing the emotional puppetstrings.
Watching some movie called something like "5 People You Meet in Heaven". Again kinda odd as other such things don't bother me like that. Just that one movie. Not even the more emotionally compelling, to most people, "What Dreams May Come" bothered me, not an ounce. But halfway through 5 People You Meet in Heaven I started crying and didn't stop until 2 hours after it was over. And not just misty eyed crying, like full wracking sobs and the snot bubbles, all of it.
Third would be an Anime Series, Naruto. For some reason I cried almost the same way during that series' arc "The Chuunin Exams" during Rock Lee's fight with Gaara.
Fourth? Rage came out when someone decided a nice nickname for me would be "Mr. Toilet". I didn't hurt anyone, but only because the guy who originated the nickname was a good 200+ miles away.
And that has been it. 4 slip ups in nearly 20 years. It bothers me only that I don't know WHY the first three effected me so much. It doesn't make sense, there is no logic to it. There wasn't even a clear memory or sensation that coupled the display, so I can't reason some odd thing in my past that it reminded me of.
Discipline, control, logic.
I love those things. I'm devoted to those things.
Til next time,
Grind Away
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