irregularreconcile
i'm such a coward; these wretched things i do
- Jun 15, 2023
- 65
Discussions of: OCD, Pedophilia, abuse
Mainly just getting my thoughts out here. Idk whaf advice works anymore. It's a long one and not super coherrent, so keep that in mind.
Haven't posted here in a long time. I considered that a good thing. I was sure I was getting better.
Of course, it always ends up the same. I succeed for a while after a deep, deep low. Sometimes I even almost feel normal, functioning. Sometimes im making strides to be a true adult. Sometimes I think I'm really healing.
But then everything crashes down. Each time harder. Each time, no one can see it except myself.
I'm aware I'm slightly different than some individuals on here. It's arguably a debate, constantly, of whether or not I truly intend to die. I consider myself a gray area, and should I exist occasionally in a space that is pro-choice such as sasu, I would like to hope my feelings are respected.
They've never been disrespected here. I appreciate you all. But I am being really open in this vent thread;
Theres a lot to supposedly look forward to in my life right now. My partner just found us a place to live, I've tackled some od the anxiety with my art and became passipnate about a subculture close to me once more that I want to do research on historically, I've been going to therapy and making strides... A lot of good things. Very good things. Things that should keep me stable.
Today I got triggered into a massive OCD flare up, specifically POCD. I haven't been able to speak to anyone about it, but it has me in a chokehold. My functioning, artistic, knowledge hungry mind has instantaneously shifted. I am now (quietly) refusing to eat, barely fighting off self harm for the sake of my partner only, and am planning my suicide... Once again. Who would have thought.
Maybe I never truly wanted to die before. I expressed during a recent few months ago to a therapist I truly wished to just be heard, to maybe take enough pills to be hospitalized.
Now I see no other option.
I have been diagnosed with OCD since being put in foster care. However, my PTSD, dysphoria, and chronic depression became the focal points of my treatment. These are all still chronic and ongoing cases already, but my untreated OCD seems to sneak up on me worse and worse each time.
Truth be told, I actually don't even know if I'm really a pedophile. I could be. After today, I think I could be. I'm not totally comfortable sharing what triggered the OCD, but it was intense. I had to take a shower and just sit for hours.
Either way, there is certainly a part of me that knows it's OCD. But... It's also OCD. So-- I could very well, in my own mind, be attracted to real children. Thus, I can't live to do potentially do such horrible things. I guess it's the same with the ZOCD episode I had earlier this year. This one has been so much more intense, though. I can't take it. I cannot live with this. Even Knowing it's OCD, I just can't do this. It's honestly so realistic in my mind, even speaking about it I know I am twisting my words. I can't trust myself.
And I never will. I am not a safe, sane person to have in this world. There will come a time I really do end it all. It's a strange feeling... Inevitability. I imagine the seriousness will continue to come in waves. In the coming year I see myself making a first attempt. Then a second. A pattern, over and over until I get it right.
I haven't been able to tell anyone in my life the nature of my current OCD intensifying to this degree. I don't know if I plan to. Even writing this, I feel so Aware of it, creeping up on me. A dirty, dirty, horrifying thing under my skin. It's like I am entranced into being a terrified, disgusted sort of animal. Where else can I go, to voice my horror? Perhaps here, somewhat-- This still remains the only true place I can remain quite open, aside from therapy. But even then... Where else can I voice the complexities of my relationship with suicide? Nowhere. Not without a slap on the wrist and losing my rights all over again.
I don't have a plan yet. I probably shouldn't right now, to be fair. We're moving and my partner needs support. I need to make sure they're somewhere stable before I do anything rash. Maybe, honestly, to get to a place where I can sustain myself again, and let them find someone not as self-volatile. They love me dearly, unlike any other. I do the same. But even in love, living comfortable and happily is seperate. I'm not sure if they'll ever have that possibility with me in their life.
Why end it with them involved directly? I have a lot of people in my life, and I have already accepted the fact that I will horribly, indescribably wound them with my eventual death. But in the coming years(?) as I get closer and closer to my eventual death, perhaps there will come a time where it would be best for me to try and let them go. Go live, and be something greater, if not for a moment.
This is a lot. Sorry. Still going.
I'm using a lot of cryptic language for my eventual suicide. I know it's weird. The best way I can describe it at this time is through my own [cursed] self analyzation and awareness. Outside of the mindbend fuckery of the OCD, I know myself. I know myself well enough as to where I have been looking through to the "other side" for well over a decade, since I was a little child. I know what happened to me (for the most part) to make me a helpless case. I had my first derealization episode in first grade, beginning to dissociate at a very, very early age. The abuse was lively. It shocked me, and left me with something I can't displase, no matter how fucked my head is.
I don't need to recount what happened to me again. But fuck. FUCK. The things happening to me now.
The best outcome I can think about is leaving an impact before I die. Because for me, this IS a sickness. And I'm going to die from it. I look down at myself and as hard as I fight, I'm still drowning.
But anyways-- Impact. I started writing fanworks. Fanworks exploring my own experiences through characters I can design and understand different facets of. There is one fanwork I created that madd a decent amount of traction, at least 2 years ago now. A lot of people have a reached out to me about it, saying they love it. That it helped them. All that stuff. I have more things to write and make before that happens. Hopefully I can.
Kind of losing my words now. If you read all of this, Jesus Christ. If I had money, I'd venmo you a buck for your time. But I don't, so... Take a cookie or something. Idk anymore
Mainly just getting my thoughts out here. Idk whaf advice works anymore. It's a long one and not super coherrent, so keep that in mind.
Haven't posted here in a long time. I considered that a good thing. I was sure I was getting better.
Of course, it always ends up the same. I succeed for a while after a deep, deep low. Sometimes I even almost feel normal, functioning. Sometimes im making strides to be a true adult. Sometimes I think I'm really healing.
But then everything crashes down. Each time harder. Each time, no one can see it except myself.
I'm aware I'm slightly different than some individuals on here. It's arguably a debate, constantly, of whether or not I truly intend to die. I consider myself a gray area, and should I exist occasionally in a space that is pro-choice such as sasu, I would like to hope my feelings are respected.
They've never been disrespected here. I appreciate you all. But I am being really open in this vent thread;
Theres a lot to supposedly look forward to in my life right now. My partner just found us a place to live, I've tackled some od the anxiety with my art and became passipnate about a subculture close to me once more that I want to do research on historically, I've been going to therapy and making strides... A lot of good things. Very good things. Things that should keep me stable.
Today I got triggered into a massive OCD flare up, specifically POCD. I haven't been able to speak to anyone about it, but it has me in a chokehold. My functioning, artistic, knowledge hungry mind has instantaneously shifted. I am now (quietly) refusing to eat, barely fighting off self harm for the sake of my partner only, and am planning my suicide... Once again. Who would have thought.
Maybe I never truly wanted to die before. I expressed during a recent few months ago to a therapist I truly wished to just be heard, to maybe take enough pills to be hospitalized.
Now I see no other option.
I have been diagnosed with OCD since being put in foster care. However, my PTSD, dysphoria, and chronic depression became the focal points of my treatment. These are all still chronic and ongoing cases already, but my untreated OCD seems to sneak up on me worse and worse each time.
Truth be told, I actually don't even know if I'm really a pedophile. I could be. After today, I think I could be. I'm not totally comfortable sharing what triggered the OCD, but it was intense. I had to take a shower and just sit for hours.
Either way, there is certainly a part of me that knows it's OCD. But... It's also OCD. So-- I could very well, in my own mind, be attracted to real children. Thus, I can't live to do potentially do such horrible things. I guess it's the same with the ZOCD episode I had earlier this year. This one has been so much more intense, though. I can't take it. I cannot live with this. Even Knowing it's OCD, I just can't do this. It's honestly so realistic in my mind, even speaking about it I know I am twisting my words. I can't trust myself.
And I never will. I am not a safe, sane person to have in this world. There will come a time I really do end it all. It's a strange feeling... Inevitability. I imagine the seriousness will continue to come in waves. In the coming year I see myself making a first attempt. Then a second. A pattern, over and over until I get it right.
I haven't been able to tell anyone in my life the nature of my current OCD intensifying to this degree. I don't know if I plan to. Even writing this, I feel so Aware of it, creeping up on me. A dirty, dirty, horrifying thing under my skin. It's like I am entranced into being a terrified, disgusted sort of animal. Where else can I go, to voice my horror? Perhaps here, somewhat-- This still remains the only true place I can remain quite open, aside from therapy. But even then... Where else can I voice the complexities of my relationship with suicide? Nowhere. Not without a slap on the wrist and losing my rights all over again.
I don't have a plan yet. I probably shouldn't right now, to be fair. We're moving and my partner needs support. I need to make sure they're somewhere stable before I do anything rash. Maybe, honestly, to get to a place where I can sustain myself again, and let them find someone not as self-volatile. They love me dearly, unlike any other. I do the same. But even in love, living comfortable and happily is seperate. I'm not sure if they'll ever have that possibility with me in their life.
Why end it with them involved directly? I have a lot of people in my life, and I have already accepted the fact that I will horribly, indescribably wound them with my eventual death. But in the coming years(?) as I get closer and closer to my eventual death, perhaps there will come a time where it would be best for me to try and let them go. Go live, and be something greater, if not for a moment.
This is a lot. Sorry. Still going.
I'm using a lot of cryptic language for my eventual suicide. I know it's weird. The best way I can describe it at this time is through my own [cursed] self analyzation and awareness. Outside of the mindbend fuckery of the OCD, I know myself. I know myself well enough as to where I have been looking through to the "other side" for well over a decade, since I was a little child. I know what happened to me (for the most part) to make me a helpless case. I had my first derealization episode in first grade, beginning to dissociate at a very, very early age. The abuse was lively. It shocked me, and left me with something I can't displase, no matter how fucked my head is.
I don't need to recount what happened to me again. But fuck. FUCK. The things happening to me now.
The best outcome I can think about is leaving an impact before I die. Because for me, this IS a sickness. And I'm going to die from it. I look down at myself and as hard as I fight, I'm still drowning.
But anyways-- Impact. I started writing fanworks. Fanworks exploring my own experiences through characters I can design and understand different facets of. There is one fanwork I created that madd a decent amount of traction, at least 2 years ago now. A lot of people have a reached out to me about it, saying they love it. That it helped them. All that stuff. I have more things to write and make before that happens. Hopefully I can.
Kind of losing my words now. If you read all of this, Jesus Christ. If I had money, I'd venmo you a buck for your time. But I don't, so... Take a cookie or something. Idk anymore
