I just wrote – though did not post – the following quoted text on Facebook. I think nevertheless, to be absolutely honest with myself and also with yous, I do need first to post as publicly as I can on the open web. For what it’s worth, my WordPress stats indicate a maximum of four to six views a day for my content. This admission of mine with respect to the obvious racism I detect in myself is hardly going to break records: mebbe in the future it might be held against me, of course; but hey-ho, I have written so much now in the past decade and a half that exactly I do not know where I might not be injunctioned – and possibly quite rightly I would add. Quite rightly.
Let it be clearly understood, though, that as I acknowledge my racism, I ask – perhaps plead desperately, even – for outside help to overcome it. I believe I have a linguistic form of PTSD, due to hugely traumatic events that took place fifteen years ago in a part of the world which forms a half of my upbringing. These events were compounded by serious consequences in my life in the part of the world that forms the other half. The quote below providesall the explaining that is needed.
I have been meditating the awful events – only yesterday I think – where a Bosnian Croat took poison in court on hearing his sentence for war crimes. He later died in hospital. My initial reaction was prejudiced and racist: the long shadow of what happened to me in Croatia in 2002, and which some months later directly led to my being locked up in a mental institution in the UK, still hurts me utterly irrationally. Even today, not a few minutes ago, on hearing Croatian – or something similar – spoken by a passer-by in the street here in Dublin, I could not help the waves of nausea – bordering on revulsion – which easily, so easily, overwhelm me. I am completely wrong when I react like this, of course, and yet the reaction is firm and clearly entrenched.
I do not believe therapy for a linguistic PTSD such as this exists as yet. However, if you know otherwise, if you know both that the condition exists and of a solvent practitioner sympathetic to the concept of mental distress over mental disorder (for I believe in the first and rarely will ever be convinced of the latter), then do let me – do let us all! – know where, and how much.
Be mighty grateful, yer know. Be mighty grateful. It’s horrible living under the yoke of being this prejudiced.