But, but, but I CAN'T!

 Reading comments on a Facebook friend's page that began with a cartoon about the reason for childhood obesity being that a salad is $5 and a pink slime burger only 97 cents (Not the only reason, but one of the top ones.), I commented that I was a fan of urban agriculture and growing food not lawns. I was kinda blasted by a person from Chicago about the horrible issues and why they couldn't do it for reasons outside of their control. (But that's another post!)

 I was struck by her "But I CAAAAAN'T, and here's why!" It forcefully reminded me of my parents. Any time I expressed a thought, idea or anything that was outside the safe and narrow, I got slammed by my parents, just like this person did. They had every reason why something wouldn't work, instead of trying to find out a way to adapt and make it work. Combined with the daily constant abuse, I beceme too terrified to do or say anything, just daydream. (This ended up becoming severe agoraphobia, which I never had before.) With no support and a constant tearing down, I never realized my deams. I am an awesome natural musician, and never was able to do anything with it. Had I tried to play in a band in Burkburnett Tx, every time one of my parent's friends saw me, I would have gotten a lecture about how I was wasting my life, how I was embarrassing them, and I should become a nurse (Yea, right. I have no nurturing skills at all.) or a teacher. (Tried that later in life, almost killed myself from the depression.) Anything I wanted to do was firmly squashed by my parents and other doomsayers around me.

 I finally escaped and moved to the big city, and met some people who changed my life. I was working at the Texas Museum of Natural History, and one of the other curators, Marty Martin, actually listened to my wild ideas, and instead of slamming them and telling me how stupid I was for even THINKING such things, he was a source of gentle encouragement. It had taken all for me to even move to the big city, and without him, I don't think I would have made it here. With that, I finally began to move out of my self imposed realm of despair. Getting rid of my abusive ex enabled me to move out of the darkness of negativity and into the light of positive thinking for the first time since I was a child.

 While I have a good life now, the Doomies like the FB person sometimes just hit me like a wall. They make me start to get anxious (oh my god, I said something that someone else didn't approve of, I fucked up!), and then angry (WTF, how dare that Mo Ron say that!) and I react badly. PTSD is a mofo. No matter what you say, however many ways you can come up with to work around a problem, the Doomies shoot it down, all the while acting like you are such a stupid idiot for even trying, and you should just quit. My sister pointed out a while back that people like this are not wanting a solution, it is too hard. They would rather sit back and whine about how they couldn't possibly do any of that. We've all done it, but the Doomies make it into an art form. Nothing is ever their fault, it is always some other reason. They are angry and depressed people, and I have to be very careful that I do not return to being "one of those". But it still very hurtful and painful to have to even deal with Doomies, even on Facebook, and they are so wrapped up in their doom and gloom world that they do not see that their own self-hatred and negativity affects not only themselves, but everyone around them. I used to try to help these people, seeing something of myself in them, but I no longer do. It is too much of a drain on me. As one of my favorite sayings from ancient China goes, "I find that I spend too much of my time trying to describe the stars to blind men. I also occasionally play the lyre for deaf people".