The Boiling Rage

It’s funny how childhood memories are remembered, when as a grown-up you look back to a time in your distant past: trying to recall specific instances and vague nuances, the mind can and does form stringed-together sequences that sometimes need an adult’s perspective to bridge the missing gaps. These ‘mental gymnastics’ can lead to a falsified recall and contribute to all kinds of health problems in later life if not analysed properly, from such extremes as being convinced you were molested as a child at the hands of a family member to believing you were abducted by Aliens and underwent medical examinations while you slept! I only mention these as dichotomist examples because I had a personal flashback to a long-repressed and quite disturbing memory last week; the occurrence had been tucked away deep within my childhood brain-box for so long that the brevity of its middle-age disclosure meant I had to scrutinize all its aspects for any false memories I may have juggled into existence. Frighteningly, I’m pretty sure things happened the way I’m about to relate them and this makes me even more thankful for the eventual outcome.

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