As a preadolescent I punched, kicked, bit and pulled hair of my triggers, once I stabbed a classmate in the shoulder with a pencil (let's ban them). One of my high interests distracted me from most episodes enough to become the school hero for the rest of my time there. That, and being switched from Ritalin to Cylert. Middle school brought on crying spells and excessive fatigue, and trying to express my struggles to the school counselor led to a hospitalization. High school I managed to avoid most fights, but for a friendship with the kid across the street that I royally turned to crap and morphed into a neighborhood feud, I spent about a year hiding in a barn every day on the way home from school. Presently they moved away and there was just a minor scuffle or 2 with a cousin. My mother began dating a guy just a few years older than myself and he played Jekyll&Hyde on me that I isolated a lot. My younger brother stole my savings and I held a pillow over his face just to the brink of 'what have I done?' That's the closest I've ever come to murderous rage, after that incident I felt so disgusted at myself I didn't feel deserving of anything good ever, to the point of being a doormat. From then on I've never laid hands on another person, I punched walls and the floor, breaking bones in my hands. I'd gone about 10 years solid not striking out at anything, instead taking benzos and random painkillers, chasing them with alcohol
A new high interest came into my life and I spent a lot of time exploring my newfound freedom it allowed me . The creepback I've noticed a lot more that when I am not just able to jump on and go, I'll be down to desperately trying to get 1 machine back to working order and something that should have taken 2 minutes to tighten a bolt becomes half a day extracting the broken bolt, if I'm lucky and haven't incurred worse damage chasing the original problem. I feel a lot like the story of slapping the tar baby these days.
So of course my hopes for 1 simple request ends up with my world collapsing, So the most rational thing I can do at that time? Shove the rebellious object of my interest, say some colorful words to it under my breath, rip my shirt from the collar down, ruminate again on how IT failed me, I failed me, God failed me, I failed God, I failed it. I suck. It's a POS, I'm a POS, it's a POS because I made it that way, thought I could do better than some engineer in China. FML, F-me, F-you, F-you very much, F-,me, no you've already F-ed me, at least KISS me. F-s a lot. God I'm SUCH an idiot...Gut wrenches, face burns, redding out, somebody please beat me up, guess I'll have to do that myself. Not always the same script and I'm probably not saying anything nobody else knows, but I haven't tried to add staying in a safe zone to ride it out to the mix, not having known of that until I arrived here. At this stage the hitting is the only thing I've seen on my own that seems to make it all go away sooner. Obviously I need an alternative for fear of eventually being found out and resulting in not being able to lurk or post for a looong time