Watching Crime

For awhile now, whenever my friend in England goes to bed, or when he’s unavailable, I watch crime stories posted to You Tube. There are hundreds, all different types of shows. Homicide after homicide after homicide case. Watch hundreds of these and one can’t help but notice patterns. I know that only certain types of murders are covered, but there are so many. It’s not a wonder when someone is murdered the police immediately suspect a spouse or family member, or someone the person knows. Most of these cases are never a stranger.

It gets to the point where you’re armchair detective. Actually let me back track. It’s not always someone the victim knows. It’s someone they have had contact with, meaning if the security guard calls the police and reports and dead body in his parking lot, and the person was shot, you immediately get that guard’s info and take a finger powder test to see if he fired a weapon recently. I saw a case where they didn’t do that and I have no idea why.

But you have to start “eliminating” people as suspects, namely the spouse first. Spouse, boyfriend, etc. When every effort is not made to do that it drives me crazy; I’ve seen too many of these. Each department handles things differently. I’ve seen some where I say to myself, man, these guys are good. If I was missing I would want these guys on the case. Other times, I’m like geez, just take a report and file it away boys, don’t let it interrupt your donut break! I’m sure the police in these cases wish the case never went to press, they look so stupid.

Too many times the prosecutors cause more people to be murdered because they want more and more and more evidence to go to trial even though you can’t imagine a jury not convicting at that point. I’m not naive, I know what they have to contend with from the defense attorneys. But some of these cases, I really think the prosecutors were instrumental in subsequent murders happening.

You also discover how crucial it is for the police to withhold information from the press. People try to frame or blame others, and they’ll be proved wrong if there is information that does not fit their story, and the flip side of that is you know when you get good information.

It’s hard to read the stupid comments about the cases. Someone can clearly be in distress when telling a story years later, and there will always be commenters saying they are not reacting the right way. It’s years later. Sometimes a person can explain something to someone without breaking down. It’s just scary how little people evaluate or  know themselves. Most of the time you can sense the range of emotions in people and the various ways people can react just by exploring yourself.

Part of my PTSD comes from a tragedy that I have never come to terms with. I don’t have flashbacks, it’s blocked out. But there’s this sick feeling I get and a sense of panic when I encounter certain things that are similar to what I went through. I think that the more I familiarize myself with these gruesome crimes, the more in control I feel about the tragedy I need to come to terms with.

If I had exposure therapy for this one item, it would not take away my complex PTSD. If it would I would do everything I can to put myself through it even though it’s painful. At some point I need to inventory how I got this way. I look back and know that I had this growing up, but didn’t realize it. It was manageable at that time, I wish I knew. Over the years things happened to compound the issue and that’s how I know that coming to terms with a few major things that happened (things that give anyone PTSD) would not cure it for me.

Years ago when I realized I had this, and before I got involved again with reading more about feminism and involving myself in the arguments, it occurred to me that it’s possible many many men have PTSD and have no idea. I thought to myself, I’m so glad I’m a woman. Society makes it generally okay for me to be introspective and say these things happened to me, and I’m not okay. Men process things differently for whatever reason, likely society and our blind spots. One of the best things that ever happened to me was achieving the ability to say to myself…oh… I’m triggered, and then handle it. I did not feel so completely alone and more stressed because whatever was going on must have been some monumental big deal because after all… I felt it was, so… it must be. I came to realize…no… my feelings are a huge looming iceberg, not the immediate situation.

I’ve learned to say, I’m sorry. Sure, there’s something wrong, or something bad happening, but in the middle of it, I can still say… I’m sorry, because I can realize… I’m over reacting. I’m lashing out. I don’t need to teach people lessons or fight for what’s “right”.  Someone with the type of illness I have should never be in a relationship. I don’t mean that they should not because it’s wrong, I mean how could anyone love me? They would have to be dysfunctional. But it’s not the problems that come up, it’s how you handle things. So now, I’m in a better position than so many “normal” people to handle things in a healthy way. When things happen between my fiancee and I, I say, I’m sorry. That was me. That’s not right. So he feels safe. We can handle whatever comes up.

I found this man… this person that I wish I could describe. He’s so strong and loyal. He’s dealt with my issues head on, and he says it’s fine. When I get ‘home’ to my new home, I have no worries and no stressors. Meaning they’re minimized. Life is full of shit, it can’t be avoided. But I have a house to take care of and my job is that and the garden. What we like are relaxing conversations. He works very very hard and for a laborer’s wage. We like relaxing conversations and time together, and that’s about it. He loves politics and news. He likes to tell me everything that’s going on with the election, and whatever news stories he’s found on the web. He’s very liberal minded and laughs at people that don’t get feminism. I’m surprised he gets it as much as he does, but he does. He’s got this gentle intelligence, and he thinks he’s not so much. He’s had dyslexia his whole life and it makes him feel dumb. He’s not. At all. He lives in a very very very conservative area, and his politics are under wraps. He doesn’t socially speak of his feelings or beliefs. So he’s imported a wife that can hang on every word. I’m an American but he found his wife in the Philippines, ha ha. I’ve been here seven years, bathing out of a bucket and seeing people die in the streets, hand washing laundry, no refrigeration, no television. He said he didn’t have much, and he knew I was for real when I said it didn’t matter. We’re going to be such a great team. We’ve finally got a date where I can come home. I can’t wait to sit next to him. I can’t wait to walk with him next to the river.

I have a video of it, maybe I can post it. The second time he sent it he converted the file in such a way where the frame was really small, but it’s still nice. I can’t post a video here unless I host it somewhere, don’t know if I will But it’s a video of a river. Very nice. I want to say I deserve a quiet life, peaceful, tranquil, etc. But “deserve” is a hard concept for me. I see people dying here, starving.

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