whathappenedatschool

So. This is some barbed wire in my theory of strings.

I went for golf with my wife yesterday to try to patch things up. Trapped in a cart, on a course, playing a game I don’t really like, unable to communicate adequately. I made it 13 holes before melting down (not bad) and then wound up crying like a baby, having a nap, and seeing the strings in my meditation.

I woke up this morning feeling fine but an email that was waiting for me triggered the meltdown to start again and I just… I couldn’t see a way out. The conditioned brain went back to the dark places, so I decided to try the regulation methods I devised.

I got on my bike.

Within 5 minutes I knew what it was. It was school. The trauma from school has not been fully wiped; what was wiped was the trauma of being an undiagnosed and self-masked autistic guy who could never satisfy his own shifting standards.

The stuff from school is still there. But now there’s no centre for the wool to coalesce around. I can remove it.

So… I stood up for a friend who was being attacked on the first day of 5 year secondary school and knocked the bully down with a single punch. Turns out he was the ‘hardest kid in the school’ or some such nonsense and this put a target on my back for the rest of my days.

After that the violence was daily. I don’t remember much; it has been blocked out. I remember making a pizza once. That was fun.

But I also remember having chairs thrown at the back of my head when the teacher left the room. I remember being head-butted in the face in the middle of class, both nostrils gushing blood while the girls at the back laughed and jeered. I remember walking down the field with my friends, blackness, seeing lights, and waking up in a building a kilometre away because someone had launched a brick at the back of my skull.

I remember groups of 5-10 larger boys throwing me to the ground and kicking me in the face and stomach and back. I remember a girl kicking me between the legs from behind as hard as she could. Minor violence and verbal abuse was daily, and one-on-many fights happened 2-3 times per week.

I learned fast. The groups generally only had one real fighter. Go straight for the jugular and beat him into the ground before his cohorts know what's happening then walk away; don't run. Never run from a feral animal.

I learned that nobody would help me and to never be surrounded. Keep them on your front.

I learned that friends would leave me. They left me in fights all the time, but halfway through school they outright disowned me. Self protection I guess. I learned that I was alone.

And I learned that authority figures were as bad as the bullies. 2.5 years in, as things were only getting worse, they moved me to a new class because moving the multiple bullies would have taken more paperwork. There went my remaining friends.

I never knew why this was happening. All I knew was to fight, alone, and to never let myself get trapped.

Conditioning eh.

Barbed wire.

So this needs to go. This is the next target for The Kid.

The Kid is fucking done with this shit. And it’s floating around outside now because there is no construct of self. The Kid will get the job done, with time.

This explains a lot of my neuroses and why I melted down yesterday. I want to be clear that my wife is a wonderful person. She has *never, ever, ever* given me any reason to doubt her. She has *always* been on my side. She has always looked after me. And the golf was a way to try to ease things along, not to trap me. But I guess I don’t know my new limits yet.

Anyway.

As I said, I got on my bike. Within 5 minutes I *knew* what the problem was. My thoughts didn’t even drift back to my wife and the immediate kerfuffle. They went straight to the root cause.

Those fucking guys in school man. The ones waiting at the gates in groups of 5. The ones I had to go through to get home.

This is why I feel trapped. This is why I explode.

Never be surrounded. Always know your exit. And if you are surrounded, one or two hits is all you get so don't give any warning. I was taught to never hit someone who has gone down, but my adversaries were not; when I went down is when the rest of the group had their fun.

This programming remains. It is no longer ‘me’, but I am still a conditioned creature. I am listening to trance music and eating fruit gums right now; 90's school-hood much?

Anyway I’m done with this. I’m done with not trusting people just because my friends proved worthless. I am done with feeling trapped just because I’m on a golf course. 

So this is the next target.

I cried a few times on the bike, as the dopamine got itself together. This morning my mum told me that before moving to Sheffield I used to like double bass and dance. I remember the bass, but not the dance. The Kid built a shell. When we moved, I stopped all music, dance and eventually art. All I knew was the fight.

But that fight is over.

And it wasn’t my fault.

I had to survive. And I learn fast. If only I could unlearn as fast.

Well… maybe I can. Bike ride, followed by meditation, followed by a little instinctive headbanging. It’s not quite lined up yet, but it will be. The protocol works.

The weaver is weaving. The Kid at his loom. And he has his spool spinning in the form of exercise, knives, vocalisation and meditation.

This barbed wire ain’t long for the world.

/jb202509101348