I don't think it was a particularly good idea, but after having weighed the risks, pros and cons, I did make the decision to admit in a post on tumblr about my pedophilia. Let's see how many hundred followers I'll lose and how quickly. Well so far just 10 of them. It was a reply to someone else's post that I reblogged and certainly on topic. I mainly responded to the original post, thanking the person for being considerate to differentiate between pedophiles and child molesters as well as advocating for therapy to be available for that... condition? I agreed that child molestation is utterly atrocious, that I was a victom of it as well, and then that I thought it was shitty to wish death upon non-offending pedophiles who do everything they possibly can to not be around children just because their attraction is icky, before even making my confession. But I also responded to the others' responses attached to the original post, saying basically that I understood their reasons for being callous bigots but that they didn't have my compassion with a kind of vague-ish "fight me" suggestion.
Oh what the heck, here's a copy of my literal post:
"[tumblr.url] I have the same controversal opinion on this as you. I think therapy should at least be an option for non-offending pedophiles who want to keep being non-offenders. In theory this is already available, but therapists can in many countries report you and have you arrested for just mentioning you have any pedophilic thoughts/feelings despite being innocent of any crime, so unfortunately not many even dare to speak up or get therapy out of fear. This I think absolutely needs to change.
Everyone alive could potentially become murderers. Does that mean we should kill and/or lock up everyone just in case they might commit murder in any conceivable future? This is fearmongering and won’t solve anything.
Child molestation is absolutely 100% wrong, horrible and only harms innocent people for life. I know this cause I’ve been through that too and the trauma still affects me today. But I also know that just having an attraction to kids does not mean that person is by default a monster, if they’re disgusted by themselves and actively avoid being around kids at all times and never harm any kids in any conceivable way. And willingly opt out of ever having their own kids. I know that cause that’s also my reality. So I see both sides of that coin, as both a victim and a non-offending pedophile who knows right from wrong. Thank you [same tumblr.url] for being one of few who understands. The world isn’t so black and white.
And to everyone else: come at me if you wish, pretty sure I can handle it. You have my understanding for your reaction but you don’t have my compassion."
Was it brave, was it stupid? Maybe both, for all I know. I really doubt I could face legal troubles for just talking about it like that online, but of course I know there's a risk letting anyone know. And that the more known it would eventually become, the more ostracized I'll probably become in real life as well. Lose friends, become unemployable, and so on. But I'm already struggling to keep my friends due to my political opinion shift and personality shift, and I really don't want to be employable either. In fact I've been struggling hard to make sure I'm unemployable ever since I turned 18. If I had figured it out sooner that it could be that easy to make sure no decent employer/company would want me around, to just say "by the way I'm a pedophile" I probably would have a lot sooner as well. Even though that word doesn't exactly roll off my tongue easily, or even off my fingers onto the keyboard. It feels like sticking my hand in rot, or putting rot in my mouth.
Words are harmless, but sometimes the consequences of using them in certain ways and contexts feels like getting an internal bleeding. But the only way to possibly change the impact of the words is to keep using them until you're desensitised. The word "rape" had the same feels-like-internal-bleeding impact on me not that long ago, until I started using and reading and hearing it more and more. Now I still flinch at it, still get a little uncomfortable, but nowhere near the original suicidal nausea it used to cause. And I will keep using it until I'm okay with it. That's also why I came to change my mind about the use of "trigger warnings" but I don't feel like getting more into that now.
I've been feeling more wreck-like these past few weeks or so. Not to an alarming degree, but I certainly feel off. Forcing myself to go to that "job training" place in Visby twice a week, or at all, has been starting to dig its ugly claws into me and pulling me down. I keep going more and more seldom, blaming it on "accidental" sleep pattern chaos even though it's very much not unintentional. Lying, deceiving, while firmly stating I'm being honest, while it's crawling under my skin how much I want leave that place and never come back, as I don't know what else to do. It's not bad to be there, it's literally only because I can't opt out of it that my entire being is resisting it. I'm allergic to being forced. (That's why I'm a hopelessly submissive bottom in bed.) And then with the hassle of trying to figure how to possibly become a "legal" prostitute in some kind of future which just has me running into dead ends. And then just my past creeping up to remind me it was still real, as far as I can determine my own reality and deceptive memories, at least. And of course the frustrating waiting time to get SRS that just keeps weighing heavier and heavier on me by the day.
I become irrational as my feelings start sprouting in all and every direction like fireworks, but not nearly as pretty. In fact it's rather ugly. I wouldn't be able to name what feelings even if I tried harder. I did give it an honest try when I was in the shower, couple of hours ago, but my words just got more abstract instead of less. But I think mostly it's various, very vague, ever-changing, shifting and kinda strange forms of fear, anger, frustration, resentment and irritation with a bit of schadenfreude, sprinkled with hopes and dreams. That pretty much sums up my entire past year, come to think of it, at least if I'll add in lust and pride as well. A lot of really dark and selfish moods and feelings, and then the odd dreamy hopefulness that basically carries all the other feelings afloat so that they don't sink me.
I keep being a self-centered savage, especially online, as my lack of empathy tends to get me carried away in the many debate-like situations I get myself caught up in, but I still manage to remain calm and at least pretend to be compassionate in less political conversations. Basically, if someone says something fucked up about any demographic/group of people, especially one I'm part of and/or know well, I just can't help but verbally feeding them with their own shoes - but if it's just someone sharing any personal story or opinion without making false claims about any objective truth or attacking any entire demographic of people, I'll be kind to them. Is it uncalled for and unnecessary? Sometimes, yeah. I do regret some things I say from time to time, but you know what? I'd rather have more regrets over things I have done in life than more regrets over things I wish I had done but never dared to. I'd rather know failure than not know at all. At least with some things.
I've developed a sharper tongue as of lately and obviously it's gonna sting me back from time to time, but I really need to learn to not feel as though the entire world is going to end over one little social mishap, and I also need to learn when and how to properly apologise and learn from the mishaps once they do happen. I don't know how credible people think I am as a person these days, if I come off as honest, deceiving, trustworthy, creepy, dangerous, sweet... I try to adapt myself less now, like I used to adapt drastically depending on who with and where I was speaking, which was extremely exhausting. So now I'm only adapting a little when I think it's actually necessary, otherwise stay pretty much the same regardless of who I'm talking to or in what kind of situation. But problem still is that I'm extremely all over the place with my personal opinions which can switch back and forth by the minute, my crappy memory combined with that, and my cognitive dissonance, as well as my deceit and hidden agendas. All of that makes it pretty much impossible for me to actually be credible regardless of anyone's personal opinions on whether they think I am or not. But I'm still curious if people's perception of me matches up with my own.
I've noticed that as a manipulative, deceitful and more or less abusive and half-kinda narcissistic person - I really don't get along well with other people that are like that too if they pull the same shit on me as I on them. Holy shit we rip each other apart like rabid, starving dogs in a boxing ring. Just an interesting phenomena I've come to have some experience with, also rather lately. They're not difficult to get into in youtube comment sections. People are savages there, and you can easily find quite a lot of dark minds, and if you jump in freely, don't expect to come back out of it in one piece. But do it often enough and it eventually it doesn't phase me much anymore. Just feeling a little bit roughed up and shaken at worst. But if I ever thought two or more truly dark-minded people with extremely different opinions could have an even remotely civilised discussion... I was completely and utterly wrong about it. However, as long as we do have rather similar opinions, the outcome is entirely different, especially if it's unpopular or uncommon opinion to have. Then it's actually liberating, especially to both talk utter shit about other people or gang up on someone weaker who joins in later on... oh fuck, what a hypocrite I am.
I've found different, far more comfortable, ways for me to talk to people and it isn't exactly appreciated by the sensitive, although it often is by the more rough-skinned. My change in personality lead to a change in my language (far less pandering and "softness" and more direct, sharp and blunt instead) which furthermore lead to a change in what kind of people are either drawn towards me or start to back away from me. So I'm saying that was an unintented change that just came with the territory. And I just feel it in my gut and heart that there's no going back should I want to.
Of course I never thought it was a bad idea to make friends with sketchy people even when others adviced me not to, cause of being a kind of sketchy person myself. And it seems apparently this is a common trait for sociopaths: to basically treat friends, family members and strangers alike. Like you may be unnecessarily mean to a friend for no good reason or let a complete stranger into your home as if it's nothing. Basically that you have no actual personal barrier between who to reasonably trust and who not to. I always thought that was just me being weird and having a "different approach" to coping with my trust issues. But ugh, of course it's much more likely due to my lack of empathy and exploitative ways of making friends, as well as being drawn to creeps and sleezy types in general, but not entirely without some amount of compassion and care for both complete strangers and friends alike. I don't think my brain or my heart knows what the fuck they're doing.
I still sometimes wonder just how horrible of a person I am, when it comes down to it, you know? If my albeit small but still existent compassion and care and random feelings of positive connection to other people is now just the faint sparks of a dying flame, or what actually keeps me from turning into a literal monster. I still think about my past, latest relationship a lot, but unable to come to terms with my actions or to even grasp what I did. It still is unreal for me. Unfathomable. Never have I acted in such a horrible manner before, to the point of... I don't know how badly I broke him. And I might never know. Nor is it my place to.
It took me a while to even notice when he had stopped following me on tumblr. I didn't want to keep pouring even more salt in his wounds that I caused, so I unfollowed him too, out of courtesy or just feeling iffy about it. Worried I might accidentally click "like" or reblog unintentionally when not paying attention on who's post was in front of me in my tumblr dashboard feed of everyone I follow. Only occasionally I visit his blog manually now, mostly out of curiosity, but also cause of me having trouble of completely letting go of what happened between us. At some point I saw a post of his about how he had broken contact with someone he described as "extremely toxic" that he warned others about, and I just knew it was me. It felt surreal to read such harsh words describing me as an abuser.
It's like I'm only half aware, while half trying to accept, half trying to deflect. It's like trying to fight my own reflexes, like trying to keep my hand on a hot stove while my reflexes keep pulling it away to protect it from getting burned. Simply, my own mind is fighting itself. I don't mean to deny what happened or what I did, but I also cannot make myself openly admit it completely. Only in hushed tongues, and never face to face. I can't even figure out if it would be better to keep it private or be more open about it, if I don't lie or distort the truth. But I would be careful of who to tell regardless.
It also fucks with my head that so much of him kept reminding me of Robin, my first boyfriend who was abusive towards me. Even so to the point I was extremely close to accidentally calling him by the wrong name, several times, only just barely catching my tongue before it formed the name. Their names not at all alike, but their personalities kinda were to me, and it frightened me. Cause it took months into the relationship for me to realise. I saw a familiar pattern that pulled me back into a very confusing and painful time of my past. And I know it probably caused a confusion in my head that made me think that he was abusing me too (I can't say either one way or the other if he actually did or not cause I honestly don't know, it's not me trying to smear him, it's because I simply can't figure it the fuck out), which was one if not most of the reason why I started to act badly - but not the reason why I fucked up horribly at the end. At that point I was just mean and had lousy reasons such as being tired of constantly trying to explain myself, wanting to keep my secrets to myself, thinking he was too sensitive. It was like I wanted for him to fight back and bite me hard like he had said he would, but he never did so I just kept going until I thought he was pathetic and not even worth it anymore. (So this is probably what the saying "kicking someone who's already down" means...) While at the same time I felt horrible for what I kept doing and I tried to stop but I kept messing up at every turn. I had lost control completely and by the time I finally managed to get even the lightest grip of myself I knew the only thing I possibly could do was to let go of him completely. But I still don't know why I did it. Maybe I too just wanted to watch the world burn.
It's not exactly something I'd want to put on a CV like "I'm also a domestic abuser". I joke about it to cope with the reality, not to make fun of anything about it, just to be clear. It's comparable to that kind of sudden, awkward laughter that slips out when you're so scared you think you're gonna die. Brains are strange, but my jokes are not malicious, no matter how dark the topic. They're coping mechanisms. That's why my absolute favourite type of jokes are about suicide, mentall illness and sexual abuse. So of course I didn't just call myself a "domestic abuser" cause of actually thinking that's fun or laughable. I made a joke about it cause it's a hideous thing to be and I don't know what to do with that kind of insight that I'd rather get off of me like a hot potato, so I made a poorly constructed joke at my own expense so that I can lightly and carefully hold on to it without drowning in my own despair over the realisation that would otherwise have me hyperventilating. Jokes are the opposite of problematic, they're therapy. The cheapest, most ancient form of therapy that literally everyone can access at will. They're the most healthy form of self medication there is. With no side effects at all. Realising that the act of joking about misery is not harmful but actually the exact opposite, is one of the most important and amazing realisations I've ever had.
But of course humour won't solve any actual damage even though it can absolutely relieve emotional pain. I did hear a really damn good rape joke not that long ago, actually, and I thought I'd tell it to you, but then I thought it seemed a bit forced.
Get it, get it? Isn't it just marvellous? It had me laughing for minutes at least. Though it took me a while to get it at first too. It's a sneaky one. But once I did I laughed and it was so liberating. To be able to hear a joke about something horrible you've been through, and feel a sudden laughter burst out of you like a sequence of velvet soap bubbles dancing out from within your darkness, for several minutes at an end (neighbours must have though I was utterly crazy if they hadn't known that already) until your stomach hurts from the tension and you're left with a silent, warming smile and tears in your eyes. A step further on the road of recovery: let go, just a little bit more, until you're flying. I do not take credit for that joke though, but I don't know who to give it to, but I did hear it from youtuber Sargon of Akkad in one of his videos. One of my favourite "skeptics" over there. So, unless he got it from someone else, I'll give credit to Carl. At the very least he should get the credit for making me aware of the joke's existence and making me laugh like that.
Sorry, got side-tracked. My attention span is always this crappy when I'm writing, so not exactly like I intended to get off topic. That's just how my thought process has always been like. It takes a new unexpected turn in the inner monologues (or dialogues if Anna is in on it too) pretty randomly. I might manage to get back on topic a little before I have to go to bed. Ugh, it will be the second night in a row I'll end by going to bed feeling like I've been emotionally mangled by a wood-chopper. Not so strange it's been getting more difficult to force my lazy ass out of bed every evening. Sometimes I just lie there half awake for 4-5 hours until I either get too thirsty, pee-needy or cigarette-needy. Or all three, for that matter. I barely eat these days as well, barely get down one meal a day, except from yesterday I didn't eat at all. So that probably fucks with my mental well-being too. Apparently I can't manage to get back on topic now, but I'll surely get back on it at some point later on again. Processing that shit certainly isn't over yet either. Like most of my burdens.
OOMPH! vocalist sings: "my fuck-up is keeping me blind" (from "Swallow") and I think he knows how I'm feeling. I'll leave it at that for now. Then just one more cigarette before I face-plant my pillow.
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