Will not call it PTSD since it really doesn’t negatively impact my quality of life.
Every now and again it gets triggered. My mind goes back to the whole ordeal and I get mad as hell.
Today it started with a seemingly innocent forum comment concerning Banksy. It quickly deteriorated into amateur delineations between art and vandalism and what they need to do with people like that.
I can never comment on such public forums. Up close and in person, one on one, a gang of the ignorant versus me solo, yes. But not anonymous forums.
Flash back to over 20 years ago, the hate mail, the anonymous phone calls, the letters to the editor by people who claimed to know my character and motives from a little news clip they read or saw on TV. I want to find every last one of them and tell them in person what I think of the character of a person who sent threatening words to and made disparaging remarks about a teenager they had never met.
In my archives from when this all went down, I have a rare editorial that gave me at least some support and a little advice.
“There is nothing ignominious in taking refuge from the fury of your detractors behind a wall of impenetrable indifference.”
Yeah, I’ll just go hang out behind this wall for a bit. Maybe I’ll run into Banksy there.
by 
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