Counseling/Disturbing thoughts, desires, and abuse
I hope I've approached the correct professional for my issues. I understand if this seems kind of like a long and tedious bombshell. I hope it doesn't blow up in my face. I don't really expect much, but it's just a relief to even type it. I'm a fifteen year old girl who as of late has realized that my thoughts are not the type of thoughts healthy people would be thinking. Nor are my desires or daydreams. I've done extensive research but don't trust a self diagnosis. I am a very calm individual but I realized that ever since i was a little girl I've experienced a strange compulsion or desire to hurt things and people.
I was always good with animals, very gentle, but something would just hit me like an adrenaline rush. I didn't understand the finality of death when I was five and strangling my hamster, I just knew that it felt great. I killed a few other pets too, but I have a dog now who is dependent on me and I've never hurt him or wanted to, unlike our other dog. I think it's because mine relies on me and I actually love him. In regards to hurting others, I was always careful about that. Sneaky. On the soccer field my foot collided nicely against some ribs. The only reason I stood up for others and was ever brave was because I wanted to slam my fist repeatedly against people's faces and have a good excuse for doing so. I was a little martyr. Never the bully.
My parents divorced when I was six and I felt strongly that my dad had abandoned my mother and I. As a result I am unfortunately attracted to men exclusively over the age of thirty. I am not attracted to boys my own age, but I am attracted to girls.
My mother was childish and immature and I still feel as though I am the one who must take care of her. Consequentially I dislike her a great deal. She once threatened to hit me when she was drunk but all it took was me raising my fists at her to have her crying and screaming about how I didn't love her and was a terrible daughter for threatening to punch her mother. I didn't even say anything or move to touch her. Since then I have abhorred any signs of weakness and I refuse to feel any kind of guilt or react to her guilt tripping. It makes me angry and the same quietly violent feeling overtakes me whenever I see or sense someone is weak or emotional. My step father is a nice idiot. I still fly out to see dad in the summers with his new hipster girl friend. He's a starving artist now with a beard. I like him very little but I respect him as a person and less as a father.
I've also realized I was kind of sexually precocious as a kid. I was technically molested by a friend's older brother when I was nine. And when I was thirteen I entered into a toxic mock relationship with a 21 yr old man who I met at a christian summer camp where he was counseling. Even then I knew he was an idiot and severed our fling before it damaged me too much. And still, i feel that thirteen year old me was leaps and bound ahead of 21 year old him. I am also no longer a christian. I used to be driven by my spirituality and a deep, unquestioning faith and love for a God that under the harsh light of logic and reason I now know does not exist. Because my grandparents and what feels like every extended family member is a pastor or pastor's wife, I have no real relationship with them other than surface.
Funnily enough, my mother is a mental health case worker going for her BA in counseling. She's going to ruin lots of peoples lives.
Anyhow, I've lived in countless houses and cities and states so change is not uncommon for me. I tell the truth so that when I need to lie I've never been caught. Since I was a child I've known how to manipulate people for what I wanted. I used to feel bad. At the beginning of this school year, my sophomore year, I was shown an important video. A friend of mine thought it would be funny. I'm a vegetarian, which is ironic considering I don't mind killing animals. I just don't like eating them. Anyway, this video was shown to me because he assumed I was squeamish about blood. I've got a good stomach for that type of stuff, at least I thought I did.
I almost threw up. I will not go into too much detail since it is quite alarming. How he found it, or why he was watching it, I've never asked. But I can say that there was absolutely nothing fake about it. Nothing. I watched a man die. Brutally. He was so weak he could not even attempt to defend himself. The attackers carried blunt weapons and common hammers. Dnepropetrovksy maniacs. Brains, blood, gore. I was so horrified that I laughed for lack of a proper response. But I watched the entire thing because I felt that I owed it to the man. Not to just click off the phone, or run from it, but actually take in what was happening.
I don't like overt cruelty. I do like the idea of killing, of feeling the life leave their body, and holding that control in the palm of your hand. Except I felt what I've never felt when I saw the man die. I felt sorry. Sorry that his death was prolonged into excruciating agony, sorry that I couldn't kill someone like that, sorry that I was watching it, sorry that no one valued his life enough to remove the video. It was very confusing. I remember the panic and the desire to do something and hurt someone and cry and throw up all at the same time. Even thinking about it now makes my stomach lurch in a repulsive way. But still, along with the nausea is the intense giddiness and desire. I'm tingling.
I looked him up. It seems somehow important that I knew him on a more personal level. He was 48 and his name was Sergei and he had a disabled mother, a wife, two sons and a grandchild. He also had a cancerous tumor in his throat. And I watched him die horrifically. So have others around the world and I can only wonder how this affected them.
Covering that base and moving on. Even harder now, is a recent development in who I'm attracted to. I don't feel bad, but I also don't wish to hurt anyone, mentally, emotionally or physically. In truth thats only because I'm too lazy to deal with consequences and probably not smart enough to evade detection. I guess technically I'm bisexual, but it's not really important and I've come to terms with it. I don't equate love and sex with one another, and I have no interest in romantic involvement. My most recent boyfriend was a smart guy. Sensitive, and kind, and everything that I could not handle. He was clingy and possessive and prone to showing more affection than I liked. He started to remind me of my dad so I ended things. He thinks I'm a heartless monster who broke his heart on purpose and then stepped on the pieces. I can't blame him.
But, and I promise I'm winding this down, I was baby sitting two girls recently and discovered something even more alarming than usual. I know. Even I cringe at the thought of me babysitting kids. I found out that night that I'm surprisingly good at it because kids like to be treated as equals. We ate pizza, they tried to run away when the pizza guy got there, we watched Cinderella and they did my makeup and we laid on the trampoline and looked at the stars and I told them stories about made up creatures and it was exhausting and brutal on my nerves until- the stupid little one started sitting on my leg and masturbating.
I was disgruntled, to say the least. I know its a normal part of growing up and some little kids just get that what they're doing feels good. I get it. Ok. Whatever. But she was four, only four, and even i'm not so complete a monster that I didn't realize that the sudden adrenaline and compulsions I was feeling were most definitely not ok. Fantasies about killing people, fantasies about strangling them and dragging knives through skin, scraping against bone and doing it all n e a t l y are not the same as wanting to hurt a four year old. I wanted to do it, I knew I could do it, the only thing that kept me was a sense of self preservation. I did not harm her, or touch her, except to place her very far away from my body under strict instructions to draw a pretty picture.
Great things await me in the afterlife, I'm sure. If hell doesn't exist, my mind has more than made up for it.
I am not a pedophile. Not to my knowledge at least. Kids are gross and snotty with awkward little bodies. Not something that is attractive. A pedophile is primarily attracted to prepubescent children, and they do not have to be a child molester to be a pedo. And not all child molesters are pedophiles (Thank you, Wikipedia) But wow. I can't even bring myself to type it. So I won't.
My only healthy relationship is with my dog. Well actually, thats probably not healthy. He's great. I adopted him about three years ago. I can honestly say I love him with all my heart and he's probably the only one. He's getting older. I've fantasized about my own mother dying painfully at my hands and yet I can't come to terms with the idea of my best friend ever leaving me. But logically I know he will. Probably soon, and that scares me more than anything. He's warming my feet as I type my heartwarming story. His presence is therapeutic for me.
God, it feels nice to put this down in times new roman font and just let it go.
In short, I'm clinging to little scraps of humanity here. I'd like to really let go and just plummet. Free fall is wonderful, after all. I can't though. Obviously I've gone into great detail already and yet left out so much. I won't make you suffer through anymore anecdotes or boring biography.
Here's the facts I've compiled since I don't like to lie to myself. I'm narcissistic. I'm charming. I'm immoral. I'm not easily pushed to confrontation and I'd like to think I keep a pretty cool head. I enjoy being the quiet in the chaos. I'm publicly very outspoken about the mistreatment of others. I'm critical, logical, and yet I indulge unrealistic fantasies. My room is a maneuverable mess of cluttered papers and books. I hate the idea of being vulnerable and take advantage of others weaknesses whenever I can. It does not bother me but I know it is unhealthy. The great thing is that because I'm a tomboyish, lovable bookworm with a triangle smile and flowery words, no one suspects how disgusting I am.
I don't like the fact that it sounds like I'm submitting myself for a stupid buzzfeed personality quiz but here we are. This sounds like a fake story. The funny thing is that I'm telling nothing but the truth. And at the end of it all, I'm still just another lost kid. Who knows what my initial question was anymore.
I'll make up a new one. How should I go about seeking medical help without raising red flags? And how might I navigate through the teenage experience without causing harm to myself or others, directly or indirectly?
Hope you're well. I await your response, referral, alarm, or indifference.
Post Script: I apologize for being the exact opposite of concise but I never have taken well to authority. Also, I understand if you are unable or unwilling to help, but I decided not to discount any sources in my search for answers, regardless of your expertise. Instead of abuse recovery maybe this is abuse discouragement.
Yours is one of the most disturbing stories I've ever heard from an abuse survivor. I believe you can change into a less violent person, and learn to live with the sadistic abuses you have done, but you need to realize that you were sexually abused. Camp counselors and older kids violated your body and soul, breaking down the boundaries of your childhood innocence. It is possible that the abuses you remember were not the first abuses that happened to you.
I encourage you to get professional counseling for childhood sexual abuse. Beyond sharing those observations, I would not know where to start. But it's good you opened up and shared your story.
>>How should I go about seeking medical help without raising red flags?
Start off your therapy by explaining that a counselor you met said you were sexually abused, but you do not feel you were, or you are not sure if you were. That will start things off on the right note. When you trust your therapist, and your therapist understands you, then you can get into the satanic/sadistic things you have done.
Best wishes on your therapy.