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Skid PTSD

thinkthrice's picture

So during our annual road trip, we stay at this hotel with an arcade room.  Out of curiosity I walk in and there it is!  A "claw" game.  The type where a kid tries to pick up a prize with the mechanical "claw."    This was a favorite of SD26's aka the Animal Torturer.  There was simply never a case where we didn't have to stop in our tracks so that the Animal Torturer would put endless quarters in UNTIL she picked up a prize of her liking.  I O Ws hours of time spent as she fumbled her way through the game (she was not good at it whatsoever).

Chef (with my money) would spend $20 in quarters each weekend on this only to have the ferals break the prize instantaneously or leave it behind in an endless pile of junk, never to be thought about again. 

 

 

Comments

Harry's picture

Recognize that there is a possibility we have PTSD.  You can't live it with out getting it,  just have to tell yourself it's a flash back 

Rags's picture

Too true Harry. If not PTSD, then at the very least significant stress induced anxiety.

It can happen to anyone when exposed to any durable tension or toxicity.  Or when experiencing even a single massive emotional trauma.

In families, at work, etc....

Rumplestiltskin's picture

The claw game! That holds a special place in my heart. Once when my youngest was maybe 9 or 10, we went on vacation and there was an arcade. I gave them a set amount of spending money for the trip. They blew it all on the claw machine and didn't win a single toy. They have never touched a claw machine since. The next year when we went, i asked if they wanted to go to the arcade and it was "Ok, but i'm not giving that scam machine any money!!"

CLove's picture

Ive definitely got PTSD from the Sd's. 

Rags's picture

For some reason many of those  who bring the toxic baggage and histories into the life of a new spouse seem to have some genetic immunity to the failed family PTSD risk.

I am blessed not having that particular stressor to have to deal with.

Lillywy00's picture

I would get PTSD every.single.time I would hear his domestic t3rrorists slam their car doors and talking so loud I thought they're hearing impaired and could hear them pull up from outside a 2k sq ft home 

Anytime he pulled into the driveway and I heard 3 car doors instead of 1 ... instant PTSD unlocked

I usually would "hide" in the bathroom or pretend to be asleep so I could have some respite from the fact it would be another weekend of them taking over my house, using my belongings without permission, roaming all over my house all hours of the night like they owned the place, talking so loudly I could hear them with doors closed, making messes and not cleaning up afterwards, and just overall disturbing my peace the the point I vowed NEVER to live with any man's underage dependents especially if said man is a Disneyland dad who thinks raising his kids with zero home training and letting his exwife use our home as domestic t3rrorist respite from her own kids is cute

Living with a Disney parents ingrate crumbsnatchers IS a one way fast pass to PTSD