A low intensity personal crisis

 

Last Saturday, November 29, early in the morning, I went out with Clara, my pet (a female dog, nine years old) for a walk. I had walked less than a hundred yards when I met a neighbor walking with a couple of pets, dogs, on the other side of the street. I greeted him with my right hand, he feigned not seeing me. I met this man for the first time 42 years ago, when we entered college; in August 1983. He studied a major on civil engineering. His name is Federico and he has lived near my house for about thirty years, or so.

Being neighbors Federico and I come across each other often, sometimes we chat for a couple of minutes. This time he avoided me. That had happened before. He is six months my junior. I was born in April, he was born in October, 61 years ago, 1964. I would not want to be perceived as narcissistic, but I should say that in the seventh decade of my life, I look better than many men of my age group (sexagenarians), and also men 10, 20 or even 30 years younger. Why?

On the one hand, in spite of having been born with serious shortcomings (because I arrived in this world with a twin sister; in multiple births children’s health are more vulnerable than in single births). I can’t see with my left eye, I am neuro-divergent, I’ve lived with ADHD which wasn’t diagnosed until I was almost 47 years old (February 2011). Because of all that, I faced great difficulty to learn in school. My father, a malignant narcissist, a psychopath, attacked me treating me as if I were the worse criminal who ever existed. Being a very small boy he blamed me for everything which was bad in his life (since he was born, almost 27 years before I was born). Being still a boy, he blamed me for everything which was bad in the world in the entire history of humanity.

However, my constitution (physical makeup) is reasonably good. Being a teenager, I became a sportsman. My physical abilities are not great (in fact, real modest, although I was disciplined and built good habits in everything related to health, hygiene, like nourishment, avoiding drugs like tobacco and excessive consumption of alcohol, etc.) Being young (a teenager and during my twenties and thirties) I had the looks of a high performance sportsman.

I was forced to face very serious adversity –being the son of a man and a woman who formed a sadomasochistic symbiosis– not having the looks of a inhabitant of the country where I was born, the looks of a Mexican mestizo (that is what I am, I have never pretended not to be such) and a high intelligence quotient –something never evident, for I was a very bad student from the beginning because I was born neuro-divergent and suffering ADHD– and in spite of all that, I have been perceived by many people as an uncommon individual, from the beginning (since I was a toddler). Some of those attributes are my merit, because I worked hard to develop some talents and even harder to turn weaknesses into strengths. Because of that, envy and jealousy have hurt a good number of individuals (mostly males) who have attacked me. It has been like this almost all my life.

This neighbor, Federico (grandson of a man from Germany) is two or two and a half inches taller than I am. His looks are those of a man who never adopted good health habits, has never worked out; adopted a sedentary lifestyle. He is not seriously overweight, but his abdomen is bulged, his arms and legs muscles look weak, his skin and hair are very damaged, etc. Seems highly probable that perceiving in another man a much better look, slim, reasonable strong and fit, he feels really bad. He cannot handle that.

 I was back with my pet, my female dog, Clara. As I entered my property (garage) I saw a neighbor with whom I had serious conflict (could have ended in a fist fight) talking with another neighbor, a disgusting man who for a long time behaved aggressive (but coward) to me. When we met walking on the street, he raised his smartphone and feigned he didn’t see me, manifesting that aggressiveness through his facial expression, his body language, etc. That despicable individual’s name is Ramón. He works in a law enforcement administration; which doesn’t worry me at all.

Those neighbors above mentioned took part in an unlawful action, with another neighbor. A woman, bureaucrat, her name is Marcela. They spread information about me among settlers where our houses are located, where I have lived for over 44 years (since October 1981, when I was 17 years old, being a student in junior high school). I have been described as a murderer, a psychopath, or some other nonsense.

An employee of a business near my house where I often buy food, has become hostile recently. Seems highly probable to me that Marcela, that corrupt bureaucrat, has been telling lies about me. Were this true, she would have broken the law.

Last weekend, Saturday and Sunday, I felt bad. It was a crisis, but not severe, as would have been in former, not too distant times.  

It has been like this all my life. I have been attacked, when I have hit back, I’ve been described as violent and for a long time my reputation has been damaged because corrupt bureaucrats have spread information accusing me of being dangerous. This has made me feel bad because I am not such, dangerous. I do not worship violence, I do not sympathize with scoundrels nor any kind of wrong doers.

I am not harmless. Which doesn’t mean I am dangerous.

End of the affair