Light Phobia
My eye pains first began emerging in Germany in the mid 70s. My optometrist was an old German who displayed no hesitation in his diagnosis that the problem was my new profession in front of computer monitors beneath fluorescent lights. Tinted work lenses were the elegant and effective solution. Sunlight never was a big problem for me. Conditions under which the sun causes me pain are few. The sun's zenith on my car hood or mountain sun on a snowy field are only temporary discomforts in me and I do not trigger to them. The problem is definitely electric lights. I totally empathize with the bees who attack sport arenas, etc. Lend me your stinger, sisters!
Handing the problem of electric light sensitivity over to the shrinks began in the 90s in my personal time line. Within that time line I was fully consumed with procreation in the 80s. Gynecoligists and pediatricians were the only doctors I could afford in the 80s. For all I know, the trend started then. For sure, psychotropic drugs were the standardized solution by the early 90s. The most common explanations I have heard since is, "Your mother shouldn't have pulled you back from the television." In my personal reality, the statement is as assumptive as ignorance gets. However many of my peers were thusly traumatized, no such occurance was part of my own childhood.
In therapy I have conceded to my childhood habit of hiding in dark places as a connection to my light phobia. The sudden flood of light meant my hiding place had been discovered and rape or forced porn participation was inevitable. Pretty potent psychosomatic linkage and it fits. Even stronger than the smell of too many beers. Maybe. I could smell the beer before Daddy found the door of my hidey hole. When I was hiding outdoors, flashlights announced their presence from far enough away that I didn't have to endure the drunk smells. Someone with a flashlight doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of catching prey with night-adapted eyes. Might as well be a butcher standing in the back-lit door of a slaughter house calling, "Here piggie, piggie, piggie." Not even domestic pigs are usually that stupid.
Handing the problem of electric light sensitivity over to the shrinks began in the 90s in my personal time line. Within that time line I was fully consumed with procreation in the 80s. Gynecoligists and pediatricians were the only doctors I could afford in the 80s. For all I know, the trend started then. For sure, psychotropic drugs were the standardized solution by the early 90s. The most common explanations I have heard since is, "Your mother shouldn't have pulled you back from the television." In my personal reality, the statement is as assumptive as ignorance gets. However many of my peers were thusly traumatized, no such occurance was part of my own childhood.
In therapy I have conceded to my childhood habit of hiding in dark places as a connection to my light phobia. The sudden flood of light meant my hiding place had been discovered and rape or forced porn participation was inevitable. Pretty potent psychosomatic linkage and it fits. Even stronger than the smell of too many beers. Maybe. I could smell the beer before Daddy found the door of my hidey hole. When I was hiding outdoors, flashlights announced their presence from far enough away that I didn't have to endure the drunk smells. Someone with a flashlight doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of catching prey with night-adapted eyes. Might as well be a butcher standing in the back-lit door of a slaughter house calling, "Here piggie, piggie, piggie." Not even domestic pigs are usually that stupid.
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fascinating read.... this brings me back to my childhood ...many similarities