I hated college, too

Not as much as grade school, junior high or high school, no.

But, in hindsight, I hated St. John's to some degree.

Not just "had regrets" about the college and career path I was "steered into," which I've had ever since I escaped the fowler's snare.

But hated. More than disliked. Hated.

Just popped into my mind June 5, and I decided to do a journaling-type blog post about it over several days.

What prompted this was looking at Marie's friends lists on Facebook, and the number of St. John's girls who I thought were diffident at best, stuck-up at worst. None of them seemed "relatable" to me because ... I was a runt who had zero relational skills and a life crushed by sexual abuse by brothers, covert sexual abuse by mom, and a few sexual putdowns by dad, along with one instance of sexual competitiveness and other things.

I wasn't bullied by guys as an albino wolf. But, no girls "hit on me." None.

Brenda and Debbie did at Gallup. Cathey in her twisted way at Hobbs. And what's her name, in a sick way, the lesbian manhunter in Mineral Wells.

And that's it.

Maybe, without the outwardly expressed anger — and it wouldn't be at those girls, ladies women — that, in addition to the "be married to the church" idea, or maybe even as a subset of that idea, is why seminary was appealing.

That's not to say that my young adult development might not have been worse yet at a state university of 3,000, let alone 10,000.

On the women, maybe, just as boys saw me as the white wolf to be bullied as a kid, girls, then women, saw me as the white wolf to be rejected. Maybe they recognized that I had some subconscious fears, in part because of mom's covert abuse, plus feeling "dirty" otherwise.

Sidebar: Dad would have been 90 on this date. I totally forgot about it until sis mentioned it to me. It's progress that I didn't even remember it. When he died and I cried, I missed what I wish he could have been. I missed still being afraid enough of him to not make that clearer. And I missed "closure," at least to a degree.

But, I also missed that that past couldn't be undone. I still miss that today. And that's all.

Mistakes were made ...

And they were made by me in coming to Marble Falls, Texas, last December.

Yes, I didn't know how crazymaking my current job would be.

But, some other things I perhaps could have investigated better, and had a rethink about coming here.

Driving around a couple of the dammed lakes of the Highland Lakes today, I saw how many gated communities there are here, out in unincorporated areas. That said, when I was here, I saw the numbers of rich houses in incorporated places.

I knew this place was pretty conservative, but had hoped that the money factor might make more of the conservatives at least relatively enlightened. I don't think that's the case, though, and the number of private communities seems to underline that.

I had that knowledge, plus some demographic information, that said, already back then, maybe I shouldn't go.

But, I wanted out of Odessa. And my psychological, PTSD-related fear of being "trapped" was still running. And, I thought this place was close enough to Austin, as well as perhaps more non-parochial, to be OK. And, I told myself that my intuitional fears were just fears of change.

I blame nobody but me for not explaining that to support group friends and others better.

That said, I hope to listen to those intuitions better.