I am posting here something I wrote on my blog yesterday. I very rarely cross-post stuff, but this seemed important to me to share here.
It's December again. I haven't written about this here--and I am not going to write a lot about it now; it's not the time for that--but December is a difficult month for me. It's an anniversary time of some fairly significant trauma I suffered as a child, done by people outside my family.
I get quiet at this time of the year. People sometimes laugh at the contrast. Although I'm a guy who has published a three-volume text about Internet law (which I update quarterly), and publishes a few blogs on diverse topics, much of the time, I'm a man of very few words. Maybe that's because, as a boy, I was told "not to tell," and when I did tell--even nonverbally, by some facial expressions, body language, and things I couldn't hide--there were painful consequences.
Occasionally, the irony makes me laugh. The laughter is cynical, but it's still laughter. I run a Web site to help others with bipolar disorder and depression. Even as I see my own world reeling on the brink of primordial chaos, I am enthusiastically and sincerely encouraging others to keep going, to be optimistic, to cultivate a positive attitude. Who am I to be so brazen in the face of adversity? I have inherited this stubbornness, this tenacity. Yeah, they may eventually stop me, but they will have to kill me first. And they won't do that without one hell of a fight.
zen-boy (aka Steve)