Two terrible foes, antagonists; something anal ruled their behaviors. Part two

 

I saw Flavio —the criminal psychiatrist— for the last time in September 2006. I didn’t meet him in his particular office, but in the public health institution where he worked. He knew the story of my life, violence perpetrated against me by my father —a malignant narcissistic, a psychopath. From the beginning (being a toddler) I was forced to face alone very serious difficulties, without any help from anyone, having born without vision in my left eye, neuro-divergent, suffering from ADHD never diagnosed, my mother’s inattention, etc.

Flavio must have identified the very bad pathology I suffered, Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). He must have talked with my parents, giving them material from DMS III or DMS IV, so they could understand how bad this disorder is, the risk, danger it involves. Suicide rate is very high, as substance abuse is (addiction to legal drugs like alcohol and tobacco, and to illegal drugs), etc. Flavio knew that I had faced very severe adversity which had dominated my life since I was a toddler. During my teenage years, and during my youth I had taught myself mathematics, physics, other engineering subjects; and a foreign language, English.

At the time, September 2006, I was 42 years old. My kid sister had died the last day of April, leaving three orphan children, a boy becoming a teenager and two little girls. Flavio told me that my situation was fair; nothing else should be expected. I had told him that I had tried to reenter the electronics maquiladora, as an unskilled worker. Working there, I would inform my employers that I had studied an engineering major (although I wasn’t able to finish it), but my academic background was very good and I was proficient in a foreign tongue, English; I could read, speak, write and translate from English into Spanish.

I worked in that corporation (electronics maquiladora), Solectron (which became Flextronics, then Flex) from December 2003 to July 2004. I made a very big mistake. I accepted translating working procedures from a client company, which would be paid as basic worker overwork between March and April 2004 (when I turned 40 years of age), an offer I should have rejected. I told Flavio that I didn’t have the good fortune to meet someone disposed to help me to obtain a better position than basic worker (which was a nightmare). Flavio, the Evil Shrink, interrupted me and told me:

“Good fortune, luck? Popular wisdom says that man is the architect of his destiny”

This physician’s perversity was astounding. It makes sense to suppose that it would have been very pleasurable for him if I took my life, or at least, ruined myself through alcohol or illegal drugs addiction.

A few months before (maybe on June or July 2006) I had asked this evil physician to see me during a very dangerous crisis. His office was inside his sister’s house, in street named Isabel la Católica. I told him about the psychic suffering I felt and I told him: “I would like to kill myself”. Risk was not small matter. I had done great efforts and everything had been useless. Had been this way all my life. Flavio took my father’s telephone number (he lived in a neighboring state) about 190 miles away. He would tell my father about this crisis.

This psychiatrist knew the story of my life, he had seen me for eleven years. He back stabbed me during a terrible time of my life. My kid sister’s death had been a brutal blow, it made me realize that I didn’t want to live, and it had been this way for a very long time.

Why did David’s condition, anal itching, reminded me of Flavio Evil Shrink? Because when that physician committed that vile act, being in his office in that public health institution, he seemed to be avoiding sitting on his anus; I guess he suffered from hemorrhoids.

I would like to think that it is about time to leave those individuals, David and Flavio, in the past. Both are cases of extreme weakness, not only physically (anatomy), but mentally too; also, crippled in spirit.

The aim is not to forget what happened, for man without memory is nothing. Because of this, Alzheimer, or senile dementia, are terrifying. The aim is to assimilate all this as part of the story of my life, and the fact that I have been able to face an adversity to which many men would not have survived.

Because suffering has dominated my life, I have become vengeful. I’d like to change that. I know well that vengeance is opposite to ethics and my intention (and is a natural tendency of mine) is to do what is right. Erich Fromm (my great professor) says that such trait, search of vengeance, is part of the unproductive personality.

Comes to my mind a very important idea concerning those terrible behaviors of those two foes, enemies: violence is not strength, but the opposite; violence is weakness.

End of the story