I’d like to start out with a story of a person howling from behind his masks.
“The other day, as I was waiting for a subway train, I suddenly heard soul-piercing howling. I looked around, and there he was, a man in a winter hat howling like a wolf, from behind a mask covering most of his face, howling from the depth of his gut, again and again.
He was not saying anything, not asking for anything, not being violent, just standing still, bothered by whatever was bothering him, and howling like a wolf, from behind his mask. After a while, somebody else across the tracks, howled in response.”
People have been making remarks like, “Oh, it’s New York, what do you want.” And I used to be fascinated by how that scene was a mirror of what has grow to be of us after three years of organic poisoning and psychological abuse. Howling from behind the masks whereas ready to be taken away someplace is the place we’re proper now.
Many years in the past, I married an abusive man. He was very candy initially, after which — gradually-then-suddenly — he was an irrational maniac who was messing with my head, performing bodily violent after which frantically apologizing, yelling with a purple face, gaslighting me, making me really feel loopy, then performing violent once more, then begging me to please not inform anybody as a result of he was so embarrassed, and many others. and many others.
Ironically, the wedding had a really presentable facade, good parents-in-law and all, and I used to be ashamed to inform the world about what was behind the facade, and even admit it to myself. I used to be simply steadily fading right into a shadow of my former curious self. I grew to become afraid to do issues like go to the shop and purchase a can of juice as a result of I assumed I’d find yourself shopping for the “wrong kind.” I used to be solely nominally alive.