I’m traumatised. No, I haven’t had to frog a project. This is for real. I’ve just had a totally unexpected freakout and it has showed me that I was traumatised by events some years ago.

It wasn’t pleasant at the time. It certainly rattled me. I would not have judged it as trauma then, but clearly it has stayed with me.

I’m not sure that I want to explain. I don’t think I want to think about it hard enough to write it down. It might be better for me if I did. Not now, though, because I’m shaky and my head is reeling.

What brought it on? An item on the radio at lunchtime, discussing something that I was close to in the early Nineties. How odd that it should surface now, completely out of the blue (and so soon after a relevant conversation I had yesterday.) I had to turn the  radio off. I sat and looked through my tears at Mr L and said, “I can’t listen to this. I don’t want to listen to this… TURN IT OFF!” and just sat there, shaking and crying.

I think I resent the outside world coming into my peedie part of Orkney and reminding me of all its awfulness.

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