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Introspection
Oct. 27th, 2014 06:06 pmHad an interesting come-down from Saturday's excitement yesterday, a friend did warn me to beware the inevitable adrenaline crash, it just took a few hours longer to arrive than anticipated.
Thoughts:
I wish I knew if I helped or not. I certainly pulled their attention away from being solely on their victim, which was exactly what I intended to do, but I'm not sure if that helped overall, the situation certainly seemed to become more fraught once I intervened.
I may have seriously scared my friend when I did it, one moment I'm next to her, the next I've walked straight into a bunch of fascists and am yelling at them. I'll have to talk to her about it, I may owe her an apology.
I really, really, utterly loathe losing my temper. This is tied up with childhood bullying that was deliberately directed at making lose my temper, which is truly explosive when it goes (seems to be a family trait). I got it under control of my own accord, to the point even family have forgotten how bad it was, but I haven't, and even when I'm utterly justified in losing it, I hate that it happens. I think there's a balance that remains to be found. And annoyingly the loss of control means I struggle for words when verbally engaging people I could write circles around. (Of course this whole personal history thing is one of the reasons I loathe bullying with every shred of my being).
I think I was slightly too pleased with myself. I still think I did what needed doing, but a bit too pleased with the praise. More humility needed, I think.
OTOH, I do wish more people had come and stood beside her while it was happening. Half a dozen people arrived as soon as they had gone - a couple justifiably as they'd looked out of the windows of upstairs flats and had to run down to the street, but someone else said 'we were going to pile in if they touched you, but you seemed to be holding your own,' maybe she was, but that was one young, slight black woman facing down the better part of a dozen fascists, him, his mate, and the three uniformed squaddies they were drinking with standing shoulder to shoulder with her would have made a better show of standing up for what being British really means. And if people did that everywhere, then there would be no place for the fascists to peddle their hate.
And I'm absolutely not telling my mother about this, it would scare her half to death!
Thoughts:
I wish I knew if I helped or not. I certainly pulled their attention away from being solely on their victim, which was exactly what I intended to do, but I'm not sure if that helped overall, the situation certainly seemed to become more fraught once I intervened.
I may have seriously scared my friend when I did it, one moment I'm next to her, the next I've walked straight into a bunch of fascists and am yelling at them. I'll have to talk to her about it, I may owe her an apology.
I really, really, utterly loathe losing my temper. This is tied up with childhood bullying that was deliberately directed at making lose my temper, which is truly explosive when it goes (seems to be a family trait). I got it under control of my own accord, to the point even family have forgotten how bad it was, but I haven't, and even when I'm utterly justified in losing it, I hate that it happens. I think there's a balance that remains to be found. And annoyingly the loss of control means I struggle for words when verbally engaging people I could write circles around. (Of course this whole personal history thing is one of the reasons I loathe bullying with every shred of my being).
I think I was slightly too pleased with myself. I still think I did what needed doing, but a bit too pleased with the praise. More humility needed, I think.
OTOH, I do wish more people had come and stood beside her while it was happening. Half a dozen people arrived as soon as they had gone - a couple justifiably as they'd looked out of the windows of upstairs flats and had to run down to the street, but someone else said 'we were going to pile in if they touched you, but you seemed to be holding your own,' maybe she was, but that was one young, slight black woman facing down the better part of a dozen fascists, him, his mate, and the three uniformed squaddies they were drinking with standing shoulder to shoulder with her would have made a better show of standing up for what being British really means. And if people did that everywhere, then there would be no place for the fascists to peddle their hate.
And I'm absolutely not telling my mother about this, it would scare her half to death!
