Tales of Woe

So there I was, a two-year-old baby, with scarlet fever, and a temp of 106.8 F, according to my mother. Who knows what brain damage that inflicted?
Explains a lot, doesn't it?
Anyway, she also says I changed completely, from a lively, active baby who never met a stranger to a quiet, shy introvert. I have no memory of this, naturally, but I do certainly remember growing up so timid I rarely spoke unless spoken to.
For those who know me, I realize this boggles the mind, but trust me - it's true!
A decade later, I began experiencing emotional trauma I don't propose to go into here. And in college, there was an episode where I suddenly started having some rather alarming physical symptoms for no discernible reason. When that passed, (and I still don't know the reason, although it has occurred to me recently that there may have been a tick bite - two-inch hard red circle, with a white center. . . Might I have had Lyme disease? Might I still have it in some form??)
What on earth does this have to do with my ability to take criticism??
Well, from that point I have had lifelong difficulties with my memory and with clumsiness. You know how people talk about "senior moments" beginning in your 40s, or even your 30s? Try 21. I began forgetting not just small things, but things of great importance, either to myself or to others, or both. Try as I might, I could not remember. I missed important appointments, failed at previously simple tasks, lost things. . .
There followed another couple decades of emotional trauma including divorce, poverty, single motherhood, and depression, just to name the major ones. People never remember or function well under extreme stress. I recall I once measured 700something on that stress scale where anything over 300 is supposed to mean you're riding for a fall.
It was somewhere in there that I wrote that journal entry I mentioned, about being flat in the mud but determined the enemy of my soul was not going to laugh over my limp body.
So the little donkey got up and took one more staggering step. . .
To be continued. . .

Restoring the Breach,
Debbonnaire