Trying Times

One of my favourite books of all time is “Only You Can Save Mankind” by Terry Pratchett. It was a rite of passage for a teenager such as I, not only because it was essentially steeped in gaming contexts, which is just ball-crushingly awesome; but more importantly because it dealt with, what Pratchett describes as “Trying Times”.

Johnny Maxwell is your average kid. Not really good at anything apart from blending into the background and not being noticed. It’s usually these kids I think, that are the most philosophical. He struggles to find a voice, an identity amidst the trauma of an impending family break-up.

I have went through Trying Times in my teenage years, which is possibly the worst thing. And I think neither acne, ignorant girls or failing grades can top that.

At the time where we need the most mental support, when we just begin to think seriously about the world and people around us, our two main pillars of support are taken from us, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

I’m not saying “Oooh, love me cuz I’m wretched.” or anything like that. In fact, I think it came with it’s pros. I became very independent in my opinions, and I have my own set of unique, and I believe, functionally useful mindsets and opinions.

The damage of such a trauma is never easily removed however. I have managed to bury them over the years, but they still lurk in the shadows of my being like a demon lying in wait.

Needless to say, I have hit upon Trying Times again, and it is shocking how easily the memories come flooding back.

I will not go into details, but the arguments, the fights, the huddling in dark corners come hurtling back like relentless nightmares, and I am wrecked once more.

I consider myself quite a loner. As Shrek so elegantly puts it: “I like my privacy”. And I think this might be an automatic response to cut off emotional ties so I don’t get hurt again.

So I always considered myself quit well isolated from these impacts, but I am not at all. This cuts through me like a hot wire through butter.

The fear is extraordinary too. I’m so afraid it might escalate and end in a crescendo of tragedy like last time.

So what do we do in such times? Stand up as stolidly as we can, despite our weakness, and push against the tides?

Or get out of the water and leave them to it?

Everyone has their skeletons. Time to open the fucking closet.

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