Draw your own conclusions.
Take a child.
Constantly tell him that he's to blame for everything & that every bad thing he experiences is deserved.
Psychologically remove his ability to fight when he's about 4 so he cannot defend himself against physical attack.
Deny him the right to express his anger AT ALL so he has massive rage issues all his life.
Then wonder why he gets sexually aroused watching horror films and writes stories in English class at age 15 that cause the teacher to phone his parents.
When someone has a vivid imagination and is super sensitive to virtually every emotional exchange they experience, then things that would mean little of nothing to some of us mean more than the world to him.
Some events that have shaped my life are:
1). Age 4. Being told I should never fight or hit back, even to unprovoked bullying and physical attack. Was also told that being “nice” would make everyone want to be my friend.
Resut = Every time I was hit, bullied or even teased I believed I deserved it as I hadn’t been nice enough to whoever did it and had driven them to hit me.
2). At age 4. Being told that my best friend in the whole wide world, Jason Miller, now wasn’t even a friend at all. Reason being that he said I’d pushed him over at Playschool and hurt him. I knew I was innocent and it was my word against Jason’s. My mother kept insisting, every time I came home in tears because Jason didn’t want to play with me that “you shouldn’t have pushed him over at Playschool should you!”
Result = I fundamentally believed that people I cared about would betray me and that I would never be believed no matter how innocent I was.
3). At age 6. Throwing a book across the bedroom to my brother, who fumbled the catch and caught the spine of the novel across the bridge of his nose. Cue a nosebleed and him howling in tears. My mother came in, assumed automatically it was on purpose and smacked me. Spent the next 10 minutes cradling my brother and saying “he’s horrid isn’t he. I’ve a good mind to give him a nose bleed too”. Took a book and began banging myself under the nose with it in order to pay penance for my horrendous deed. Only stopped when mother threatened to smack me again if I made my nose bleed.
Result = Even mistakes and non malicious acts would result in punishment. My fault, no matter what.
4). At age 7. Being accused of stealing a pen at school, belonging to a boy in the year above me. Had in fact been “given” to me by a kleptomaniac little cunt named Marcus who said he didn’t want it. I believed that telling the truth would help me but as he denied it and I couldn’t prove I hadn’t stolen it, I had to buy the kid a new one (had lost it since Marcus “gave” it me). Not called a thief, just informed that as I was last person known to have touched it, buck stopped with me. At the last minute my form teacher ordered me to say “I’m sorry I stole your other pen” and glared at me when I tried to argue the point. I ended up saying sorry for something I never did, as I handed over a new pen, paid for out of my pocket money.
Result = I believe I am a lying, thieving little boy even when I’m not.
5). At age 9. Dropping a stapler on the table in class while making Xmas party masks. Teacher flew into a rage that lasted about 2 hours. Screamed at me in front of the class “I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU’VE COME FROM BUT I WISH YOU’D JUST GO BACK THERE!!!” (I had joined the school about 6 weeks previously). I had been almost euphorically high with happiness just prior to dropping the stapler.
Result = Believed that enjoying myself would only lead to bad things. Took decades before I could relax again and enjoy myself without believing I was going to end up in trouble. Also believed that I was unlovable and unwanted. Still haven’t gotten over the urge to watch this particular teacher die via immolation.
6). At age 13 asking a good looking girl out at school and having both her and her friends laugh at me every time I walked past them for about the next 2 years. Favourite was as I entered the room they would glance to see who’d come in, look at each other and then start laughing and looking over at me.
Result = Pretty girls are dangerous. Stick with ugly ones because I myself am clearly ugly.
Additional result = I had started to fantasise about killing people. I had 3 lists in my head (can still remember who was on them). They were a). Kill Quickly; b). Kneecap First and; c). Let Live. I started to write very violent fiction in English class and fantasised about coming into school with a shotgun or even a flamethrower. Also created a character in my stories called The Shadow, who was a silent vigilante that entered the houses of bullies and killers at night and slit their throats as they slept.
7). Aged 16. A boy who bullied me to the point where I had black eyes and split lips etc. The school was one of the biggest fuckholes I’ve ever encountered. Staff never cared or tried to investigate why this kept happening and simply assumed we were equally to blame (common lazy method of teaching back then). Headmaster threatened to suspend both of us if it happened again. Didn’t stop the other kid from attacking me. Due to point 1). I couldn’t fight him. Due to point 7, he had ammunition to pick on me.
Result = No matter what I do I will be a victim. I am unworthy of protection or even being treated with basic good manners and courtesy. I am scum.
Additional result = Used to spend most of my day thinking about killing people who had hurt me. Also became royally turned on watching violent horror films.
8). Aged 17. Arriving back from a holiday in Crete in 1988 to find my paternal grandfather had died when we were away. My Nan had woken up 3 days before we got back, to my grandfather’s corpse. My maternal grandfather had blocked my Nan’s relatives from calling us abroad to get us to come home. My mother’s immediate reaction was to loudly state “I think it was VERY good of my father to stop your nan’s relatives from bringing us home from our holiday early. We only had 3 days to go and they were quite capable of dealing with it themselves but they expected your father to be there just because he’s the son. I work very hard in my job and I need a holiday. I think it was VERY good of my father to stop your nan’s relatives from bringing us home early from our holiday”.
Result = Other people’s pain and unimaginable misery mean nothing next to my parents’ short term comfort. My feelings are irrelevant. I have no right to complain.
Additional result = Can’t get close to anyone for fear of being hurt so badly.
9). Aged 18+. Being told that I had to take any job going even if it wasn’t needed and unnecessary to my financial situation. In said job I was to never answer back as “they’re paying your wages”. This basically stemmed from my mother’s reaction to being forced at 16 to leave school and get a job she didn’t want. However I was told that I had to do any work, for any pay, no matter how badly I was treated or how long the hours were. When I tried to argue the point that this was unfair and imposed without necessity she simply said “I had to do it so why shouldn’t you?”
Result= Don’t deserve anything other than financial misery and hard work. Even if the J.O.B is not needed, you have to take it for unexplained yet fundamental reasons. Money is not a friend, only an enemy. I have no right to put a price on what I believe my labour is worth. I have to suffer as my mother had to in order to prove I am worthy of her love and that I am a good son.
Additional result = I am by now about as fucked up as you can be. I have virtually no friends, am passive aggressive, surly and have massive internal, unexpressed rage issues. My life revolves around violent fiction and getting drunk. I am 2 weeks off 20 before I lose my virginity. I am 25 before I sleep with a woman I consider to be good looking. I am also into my mid 30s before I stop believing I’m ugly.
Through all of this. I held on to the belief that life was worthy of being enjoyed. The depths of depression are not so bad as you might think as the only way is up, and you see some pretty lights from other creatures when you are deep below in blackness.
The conflicting messages and misery of my early life have resulted in someone who can write well (forget false modesty, you seen how many 5 star reviews STAB PROOF SCARECROWS has got on Amazon?!!) but feels nothing but pleasure when bullies get hurt.
I stayed the right side of complete freak out and meltdown because I fundamentally held onto the belief that one day things would get better and that innocent people were worthy of protecting.
At the end of it all, I can look back and realise that most of what happened (and we’re talking about 90%+) affected me so badly due to my interpretation of the events.
Be careful who you pick on, who you tease and who you wipe your feet on.
Some people have very long memories. Others can become psychos.
One day you might meet both.