With you, with myself?
How honest will you be, with me, with yourself?
There are plenty of things I won’t share, or talk about, and no, that isn’t code for being sodomised as a 7 year old or any of that shit, it’s just that there are some things that a me-centric enough that they are nobody else’s business.
But, while avoiding talking about specific things, some times we can talk about the paths we found ourselves on due to these specific things.
The feeling you get when you look at your family tree and actually realise for the first time you are a dead end, literally. And too old to meet and fall in love and marry and all that shit… so you are a dead end, literally.
The feeling a whole decade plus later, long after you have made your peace with the fact you are a dead end, when a wimminz deliberately and without consulting you or your wishes, gets pregnant by you, goes to term and delivers a healthy baby boy.
I suppose I could sit here and give y’all the proud and happy dad bullshit, but no, that ain’t true, it was duty and no more.
It is not the greatest day of your life, or the happiest, or any other fluffy shit.
Unlike the quiet day a decade before when you had had time to think and contemplate that you were a dead end, and be saddened by it, the day your son (commiserations if the womb turd is a mini slut) is born there is just too much shit going on for you to come to any honest answers.
I’m sorry, was I supposed to be a nice guy, a genuine solid man of integrity who was just used and abused and hurt by wimminz?
I am the sum of my experiences, both at the hands of others and my own, if I am to take any credit for anything it is that I am not some crazed vengeful serial killer.
I am not a nice man, but I am a truthful man, and a fair man, and a stands by his word man, and don’t do unto what I don’t want done unto back, even when it is.
Said to a wimminz last week, one of the few who is honest enough herself to be able to have conversation with her, that in reality raising kids is like raising a dog, it’s not hard, it’s not rewarding, it’s duty, and your kids, however much you may love em, they are not companions, they are sovereign territories of their own.
She just stared at me in silence for several seconds, before casting her eyes down in shame and admitting what we all know, what I said was truth, that level of honesty with oneself is unsettling and disturbing in the privacy of your own mind, scary when it is stated openly.
When I was younger I wondered, and secretly worried, that I might one day be a paedophile, if I didn’t watch myself, you see I had these urges, and you can’t discuss that shit…. and then one day I met someone who I later found out worked with such kids and their abusers, very eminent, very respected, and so one day we had a discussion on the subject… turns out she knew before I did I wasn’t one, if she suspected I could have been we would never have gotten close, turns out that those feelings of awareness of the sexuality of some of the more physically mature 14 and 15 year old girls were just natural biological functions, and I learned new words like hebephile and ephebefile, and that I was neither of those either, being aware of sexual maturity isn’t the same as wanting to fuck… wanting to fuck was conditioned out of me by my family and society and the way I was raised.
Once I learned that I was none of these things because I was none of these things, not that I was none of these things because so far I had resisted urges and impulses, all the shame was lifted.
I had nothing to be ashamed about, looking at the St Trinians‘s girls (pic above) and thinking phwoar as a young man did not make me a paedo, it made me normal… I was not “in temptation” by mere proximity, there was no thin end of a wedge, there was no desensitisation, there was no hidden psychopathy, and then I in turn started talking to others, and found that they had had exactly the same “awareness” of sexual maturity, and the exact same thoughts of secret shame, because they went though the exact same mental processes of being scared to examine it, just in case they were sick in the head.
And suddenly all the shaming language used in society was water off a duck’s back, I knew it wasn’t me.
Sure, I knew I still had to watch my ass, not just do nothing wrong, but don’t get yourself in a situation where things could go wrong, but suddenly….
I was no longer participating in my own shaming and control and self loathing.
I didn’t come out the other side of it a saint, honesty to oneself is not a pleasant experience, but the people most horrified by my ‘gazing into the mirror’ honesty are those who set themselves up as custodians to society, and unease and awkwardness YOU felt reading the above disclosures is magnified a thousandfold by what those who set themselves up as custodians feel.
In my secret family court case the judge, lawyers, social workers, court shrinks and assorted hangers on quite plainly looked at me with absolute hate and loathing, not because of the various things I was maliciously and falsely accused of by my psycho skank ho ex, but because I stood up and looked them all in the eye and had zero internal doubts, I was no longer able to participate in the attempted shaming of me, and I could not be manipulated into making any kind of concessions or admissions or twists of language or allowances.
I was powerless, but I was a fucking rock, unmoved, unaffected, unable to participate in the circus and play my appointed role.
I didn’t *have* to be honest with anyone else, but I *had* to be honest with myself when looking in the mirror, I had to turn over rocks, pull out all the worms, give them a post mortem, and then examine everything for consistency, all the while fighting the urge to just turn my back on it all and ignore it all and pretend none of it is true.
I am 100% responsible for putting myself in a situation where the psycho skank ho ex could make false allegations of DV and FRA etc against me.
I enabled her to do this, I gave her the opportunity.
I kept doing it, even when I had several opportunities to bail, and I am not talking opportunities to walk away, anyone can do that any time, if they are prepared to pay the price.
I am talking opportunities to bail where I deliberately put myself back in the target zone.
She is 100% responsible for making malicious false accusations.
I am 100% responsible for putting myself in a place where she could, and then staying there.
The difference between then and now is now I have faced that internal mirror some more, and turned over far more rocks… not them all, but far more.
Some of those rocks include;
- Being scared of being “alone”
- Being scared of being a dead end genetically
- Wanting to see myself as a knight in shining armour
- Not wanting to accept that my initial impressions of someone were mistaken, there was no good, hidden deep with them, that would come out if only they were given a chance.
Yeah, it was the last couple that really did it for me.
Wanting to be perceived by others in a certain way is a folly.
Wanting to be perceived by yourself in a certain way is the greatest folly.
In a strange way, I am grateful to the psycho skank ho ex, if she wasn’t so psycho I would still be trapped in a prison of my own making. I know it is an anathema to say such things, like those who are grateful to shit that nearly killed them for giving them a whole new perspective and lease on life.
Finding and analysing and eliminating these rocks was key to ridding myself of the poison of anger and hate and loathing that dwelled within me, and I could see that same anger and hate and loathing in the judge, lawyers, etc etc
Don’t make a career out of keeping these rocks alive, Tamagotchi style…
In ages past they would have been called inner demons, and keeping them alive would be demonic possession, and of course da wimminz, well, that was where the word hysteria and hysterical comes from innit….
Guys often ask me why I still associate with da wimminz, and fuck them, why don’t I ghost.
Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, not because I am the meanest motherfucker in the entire valley, but because I am that valley, and I am done fearing me.
I never did fear others, it was always me that scared me, not what I was, but what I was capable of.
No longer, I have met the enemy, and he is me.
We have come to know each other, and come to a truce of sorts, not all of the rocks have been examined, but at least there are none left in our shoes or in our eyes.
How honest do you want me to be, I am a deeply flawed human being, but there is no malice in me, and I am content to get by trying to do unto others as I would have them do unto me, and avoiding them if they aren’t happy with that.
How honest do you want me to be, that son that was taken away from me and his paternal family, I’ll do something as / when / if enough factors change so that I can actually do something, until then I’m not going to beat myself up, or allow anyone else to beat me up, about being a deadbeat dad.
Don’t let this be you.
The old man’s sitting there, his head bowed down
Every now and then he’ll take a look around
And his eyes reflect the memory-pain of years gone by
He can’t regain nostalgic dreams he’ll never see again
With trembling hands, he wipes a tear
Many fall like rain, there’s one for every year
And his life laid out so clearly now, life that’s brought death
So nearly now life once he clung to dearly lets go
But spare a thought as you pass him by
Take a closer look and you’ll say
He’s our tomorrow, just as much as we are his yesterday
A lonely grave, and soon forgot
Only wind and leaves lament his mournful song
Yet they shout his epitaph out clear
For anyone who’s passing near
It names the person lying here as you
And you…and you…and you…
