'NICE', afer all, is a four letter word, dear barzune, and interpreted as nefarious by certain people who see such as a 'weakness' (just like so many saw Jimmy Carter's human rights prerogatives with foreign policy as a weakness and not the strength that it actually was; or, indeed, failed to perceive Reagan's love of right-wing dictators as the putrid evil that THAT was). One thing I learned early in life was to understand that some people are really out to get you. Escaping that becomes nearly impossible within an environment that is so structured and largely upheld by one's parents for socially acceptable reasons. Thus, one must look inwardly for answers. My parents loved me, provided for me, but did not want to hear of the trumas I was experiencing in school.
I knew I had it in for me for life from my peers by first grade in 1956: the teacher had a 'litterbug patrol' (her two pet students) who would go around all the desks at the end of the day. Just before they approached my desk all the surrounding kids would throw debris under my desk and I was unable to remove it in time. Result? I was given punishment and had to stay after school several days and had to have my mother pick me up. This was a truma for me at the time that I only gradually recovered from. On the bus, the kids would save a seat for me so that they could punch me from behind, from the front, and from both sides was also something that I was unable to escape. NOTHING said to an adult mattered, as 'pansies' did not have any rights. Period. In second grade I almost had my right eye punched out by a girl sitting in front of me who purposely jabbed my eyesocket with a pencil as she was passing me paper that the teacher initiated at the front of the rows. My mother noticed a scar there and I told her what had happened and she wrote a note to the very young teacher. That teacher (who is still living in Wolcott, CT but APUG would not want that name published) simply laughed out loud and crumpled it up and threw it away with arrogance and more laughter. It WAS that way at that time. When I had to stay in Wolcott for six weeks in the summer of 2013 watching my father die and, afterwards, then empty his apartment, it was very tempting to go to her house and literally strangle her. I did not do that.
You see, as crazy as it sounds now, back then kids did not DARE to refute what adults said. If my teacher accused me of being a litterbug, I was, in fact, a deemed litterbug, it was that simple, as reason was always trumped by authority when I was young. This and similar incidents carved out my cynical and excessively paranoid personality for life and I cannot escape its focus no matter how much I try. To live alone, as I have for all my adult life, is NOT lonliness, but, in fact, 'refuge'. I have NEVER been lonely and cannot understand why people are, since there is so much to do regarding helping others. (Honestly, I believe lonliness to be a form of selfishness, as severe as that sounds.) In some ways I have benefited, in other ways (careerwise) I am surely defeated (even after having passed the formidable CPA Exam three years ago). But I have learned how to survive with my 'handicap' and credit such cynicism with literally saving my life many times over. As a result, I think that I can 'see' people better than most. I know that I am healthier than most, at nearly 65. - David Lyga