The effects of the relationship I have had with my Father are interesting. 

Well, at least to me.

I had frequent meltdowns as a child, it started when I was two and I would slam my head over and over into things when I got upset. 

Both of my parents resorted to physical violence in order to try and control me during these meltdowns. My father’s default emotion was rage. He would scream, hit, push, pull hair , slam me down on the ground. My mother’s default emotion was victimhood, She would cry, scream, blame, hide and tell my father to “deal with me” and then intervene if he was too physical. 

They had this thing called “The Police Hold.” which is when they would yank my arm behind my back and inch it upwards until I calmed down. Hurting me into submission. Out of love. 

My father’s stepfather was really abusive, like severely. Two of my uncles are permanently mentally fucked up because of how abusive he was. 

He was Pop-op to me. I was taught and told to love him. 

It’s interesting because my father today is my best friend. 

The therapeutic boarding school cult I was sent to forced both of my parents to do the same exact intensive therapy (Attack therapy and other crazy shit) that I had to go through. My mom struggled a lot with that. But something happened with my father. 

My father had a personal epiphany that he had perpetuated a cycle of feeling unsafe. He had felt unsafe in boyhood, and felt like there was no male figure present in his life to keep him safe and didn’t stop to consider that he could in fact be the protective male figure in his own life. 

My father radically changed, he became slow to anger, he remained curious, and everything that I had loved about my father remained which was something that I needed at that age (17). 

We slowly became closer and closer, sharing a love of art, music, and film, My father was the one to show me all of my favorite movies at that age. 

He reads everything I write, he listens to every song I make, he watches every film I recommend. 

He’s the father I needed him to be. 

There had been a moment that we had shared where I looked him dead in the eyes and and very calmly threatened to kill him if he ever hurts my baby brother the way he hurt me. But i don’t think that was the catalyst for change. 

With time, I had realized that I was a manifestation of my parent’s childhood trauma. I was the exact person they had wanted in their childhood to protect them. It hurt my feelings that the reason I didn’t have the father and mother I needed was because I couldn’t go back in time and show them how. 

In therapeutic exercises and meditation I went back in time, to when my father was a little boy and when my mother was a little girl. I was keeping them safe, letting them know that they are unconditionally loved, parenting them and protecting them from the bullshit. It made it possible for me to do the same with myself. 

But there is a lasting effect that I didn’t truly account for and it’s something I have been recently unpacking. 

The attraction I have to physical danger and violence. 

Its hard because logically I know that when someone is hitting me they don’t love me, but its almost like this sick twist up in my brain that confuses the two feelings. Like I have been conditioned to expect the people I love to hurt me or it doesn’t feel real. 

I used to think my attraction was just regular attraction, the simple thing of “I like you” and it not having any other meaning. Now looking back on who I am/was attracted to, its very obvious that I was attracted to the feeling of being unsafe. 

The reason I stayed in abusive connections so long is because in a sick fucked up way, the love from an abuser is far more potent and feels far more real to me than the love from a lover. 

The love from a lover hurts me. It feels awkward and uncomfortable. I want to either cry or just masturbate to the thought of being hurt. 

I wish it was as simple as Kink. But the pretending, its almost as taxing and exhausting as just vanilla love making. I feel like the director, and I cant fully relax into my role, because I have to make sure the entire production goes the way I need it to.  The only kink that can truly get me off is degradation. Because I genuinely thing I deserve to be degraded for what I want. 

I want to be controlled, I wanted to be slammed to the ground, I want my face kicked in. I want to hear ringing and feel the hot rush of adrenaline and blood. I want to hear knuckles cracking against my ribs. I want to be physically restrained by another person or multiple people. Held down struggling. 

I want to be the perfect victim. 

I want my sexual partner to take their rage, anger, and contempt out on me. I want bruises and scars. I want them mad at me. 

Because that’s what love is.