I’ve stepped on many figurative landmines in my life. Sometimes I know where the landmines are and I try to avoid them, but you can’t avoid every landmine. Sometimes you think you’ve stepped in a safe area, only to discover that you’ve placed your foot on an unmarked landmine and BOOM.
And in that BOOM, your whole world falls apart. You’re yelled at. Maybe punched or kicked. Definitely emotionally clobbered. And in those moments, all you think about is “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please don’t hurt me any more.”
It isn’t just at that moment. Any moment involving that instance can trigger those feelings of worthlessness and pain.
Those first landmines were touched by my adolescent feet. And they were set off when my stepfather, powered with rage and a few cans of Schlitz, went after me for anything and everything.
The next landmines were verbal bombs, when I chose to live with my biological father and his wife – and I learned the cruelty of insults and denigration and contempt. I still bear those scars.
Landmines existed in college. Landmines existed in two marriages. Landmines were there, and even when I tried to avoid stepping on one, it was normal for one to step on me.
And when a landmine hits me, I react in different ways. I shut down emotionally. I close myself off from people. I try everything under the sun to distract myself from the ache and shrapnel.
They say “That which does not kill you, makes you stronger.” That’s crap. You might survive that which does not kill you, but it makes you weaker inside. More vulnerable for another attack, another stab, another kick.
I’ve dealt with these landmines all my life. And every time I keep thinking to myself, “That’s the last one, I’m good for now, let’s continue.” It’s almost as if there’s a new landmine just waiting two steps from my feet, and I’m mentally anticipating stepping there whether there’s a landmine or not, because it becomes my norm and not my exception.
Because after you’ve stepped on so many landmines … it’s hard to walk without expecting one. It’s the other shoe falling. It’s the twist in an O. Henry story. The old “it was too good to be true” mantra.
Landmines are not fun. Not in the least. And I hope you never have to deal with landmines.
They’re painful in more ways than one.
Chuck The Writer 
“I shut down emotionally. I close myself off from people.” I totally relate, and I was not always even sure why.
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Coincidentally, lately I’ve been feeling that my entire existence has been a mistake. Too much stress now, and no sign of it easing up.
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Stress, yeah. i offloaded two things last month and still. Someone sent me a breakdown of the current state of the Presidential election and I reacted badly. And I know why. “One thing I often warn against on this blog is speculation: It can eat up all your time and drive you nuts. And since no one actually knows what’s going to happen, speculating about it usually serves no purpose beyond entertainment. So if you enjoy trying to forecast things in a who’s-going-to-win-the-World-Series way, feel free. It’s harmless. But it’s also unproductive. One way or another, the election will happen and we’ll find out then who wins.
Personally, I find that I’m not enjoying whatever time I spend on speculation. Predictions, good and bad alike, just raise my anxiety. So I’m trying to avoid them.
Speculation also has an addictive quality. Anxiety about the future just leads to looking for more speculation to find reassurance, which usually just raises more anxiety.” https://weeklysift.com/2024/10/21/the-monday-morning-teaser-579/
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