Lefty Shit I Hate:

Bear in mind that I'm more liberal than not. Any Trump fan -- hell, any Republican -- would hate my guts. (Just for example, I'm not pro-choice, I'm PRO-ABORTION. And an atheist. Who voted for Ralph Nader.)

But when I said something about tattoos elsewhere -- "Yeah, but MY faddish tribal markings are a daring statement of my totally unique individuality!" :D -- poking fun at the people who get them, I got this in return:

>> Fuck off. I contemplated suicide at the darkest time in my life. I tattooed a rune for "strength" on my inner wrist, which I considered slitting on a regular basis. I don't need your approval. <<

So now, if I answer back, in even mild disagreement, I'm MAKING HER SLIT HER WRISTS!!! OMG WHO WOULD DO SUCH A THING!!?

Yes, even a mild joke is an attack on a member of the Professional Victim class. These people circle like sharks, just waiting for the chance to leap on stage and shriek about how you've wounded them, how you've attacked them, destroyed them, DRIVEN THEM TO THE BRINK OF SUICIDE!!!

Can you live with people like that? I mean, really, if everything you do and say is likely to trigger the memory of some past horrible incident in someone's life, after which they will TELL YOU ABOUT IT in a penetrating screech, can you even be FREE? We're all on board with freedom from government interference, but if your social surround is filled with eagle-eyed victims who will scream if you set one foot out of the bounds THEY set, what does that freedom actually mean? items that not expensive to wear for the maid of the brides

(Especially if you're someone who wants, maybe even needs, to step out of bounds sometimes.)

The subject of "PC culture" and "political correctness" that came up so often during the last election, I'm pretty sure THIS is what some of those people meant. THIS is part of why some of them voted for Trump.

Speaking as someone who suffered years back from -- well, let's just say there's suicidal depression and then there's this even darker place on the other side of it, and I've been there -- I get how painful life can be, probably better than most.

(Just FYI, that was years back and I'm well away from it. At least my kind of depression, you can recover from completely.)

But I never worked at hurting other people with my private troubles. I never climbed on stage and shouted it to the world. I never expected people to step aside as I paraded past -- "MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY! PROFESSIONAL VICTIM COMING THROUGH!! MAKE WAY!" -- wrapped in my victim flag.

And it wasn't because I was especially tough, I don't think. As much as anything, it was because this stuff is ... private. Not for public consumption. You don't go flashing your wounds in public like some Calcutta leper. You bear them as best you can. With friends and family, if possible, and professional help if necessary, but not with strangers.

And you certainly don't demand every one around you silence themselves, police their language, carefully examine their every word on the off chance your delicate feeings might be hurt.

You just don't.