Monday, 26 April 2021 8:15:27 AM

On what determines our ''Killer'' instinct - that point where we recognise that things we did or are involved in are getting out of hand; and how that determines our responses. [What I may have learned from that is that despite those moments being forgotten or bundled away over time or repressed along with the bad memories that are associated with it the responses persist with us for the rest of our lives.]

I understand where that came from in my own life experience, I understand that each of us has varying levels at which a certain point is established that can be called our kill spot - its the level that takes things as being very real life affecting moment and its the tool that sets us in motion when it deems/thinks (amygdala) the danger level is elevated to the point where we are moving into a heightened state of risk or danger.

I got mine from my mother and grandmother in a moment that was so powerful that it determined so much in my life and yet the actual moment I had forgotten or more precisely I had put aside in that part of the mind where we put unanswered questions in the hope that the next question that comes to mind will pass by and not be forgotten in some manner. Mine was buried in the egregious trauma of a nun sexually abusing a 3 and a half year old child.

There is an understanding in what transpired in what has become one of those early recollections that usually just hang out in this part of your recollections without having some dynamic in a broader dialogue

re-evaluation given the newer understanding of those core element in my life. This review will be quite wide reaching. Who was it who said a life unreviewed is a life not worth living or --- Seneca I think

I was musing on the different levels of safety and warning/distress we put out and how varied they are and how close they can be to those who have a major influence on us. My grandmother though I only have a few recollections very early her effect on events to come in my life are amazingly strong and strengthened by the actions of my mother.

I was reviewing a moment that came as a result of my (natural enough but humanly unhealthy response to my mother answering my question about the gears that I imagined were inside women according to me as a 3.5 year old child when she smiled and hugged me saying that I should not be a Duffer. I lashed out and hit her quite hard and took her breathe away. My grandmother was on to me in an instant with a sharp and loudly shouted "Stop that boy" as she lunged out and grabbed my arm and pulled me away from my mother while she cooed about catch your breath Kath I have that little monkey right here as she pulled me without kindness into a position where she had me pinned and unable to escape if I had wanted to try that. I was perhaps only 2 or 3 seconds of my life.

The urgency of the moment bypasses the need to know the boys name. It was a natural and very human moment that only now am I beginning to see how much that moment would affect my life in so many ways and how the policeman who was there at that moment would shape my life and the way I respond to events. As well it goes toward answering an often asked question about why I did things differently or how where I got my form of resilience from. His name was Pat Harrisson. This is possibly one of the few early recollections where I understand that Herbie was not involved in my abuse although within a few hours or days he was to became deeply involved right up until his murder on St Patrick's day 1962.

In hindsight I now say that I did not ask the question if Pat Harrison was Catholic; not until I asked online about 6 months ago and was informed that Pat had gone back to Ballarat and got involved in Rowing there like he had been during his time in Yea. He went on to be involved with the Westgate Bridge in some manner through his job in policing.

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