Seventeen years ago I was at a park and ambushed by 2 women and that forever changed my world view.

I struggle because of that day so insignificant to them they probably don’t even remember. That was the day I met the devouring mother, my own special demon built on repressed trauma. I just didn’t realise it yet. The devouring mother was the voice that convinced me to touch myself when I was very young, telling me how good it felt, that I was doing a good job. It was the voice telling me to watch porn as soon as I knew of its existence. And that voice was unhealthy. And later growing up, the ideas spread, they got riskier. Talking to women and meeting up with women who I knew could take advantage of me. Who wanted to take advantage of me. I’d be so compliant to steady their nerves. The Devouring Mother held my hand, validating my trauma whilst at the same time adding to it. Telling me how good I was for letting it happen. It was so validating that they would put themselves at such risk just for you. I was so special. Drink some more vodka and lay back down and just let your head fuzz over for her. Good boy.

Obviously it was a disaster. None of that should have ever happened. I distanced myself from it. Grew up a lot. I got lots of friends, made goals and plans to achieve them, and actually started doing it. So much ambition and memories made already. It wasn’t just my own trauma I could sate, it was life I could sate.

But the urge to crawl to the dark corners of my psyche are sometimes there. The need to sink deeper into the shadow of the overbearing, controlling, manipulative that imprinted themselves on me when my shape was still forming. I used to think this whole experience made me know myself better. Thats a half truth. It made me period.

I used to talk a lot online about my experiences on a different account. One time a woman messaged me in depth about how I deserved everything that happened to me and even more. She encouraged me to touch myself to it, and everything I told her, my triggers, memories of those days, what they said to me, she used against me, to strengthen my triggers and condition me to slip back down that path even deeper than before. Nothing was off the table for how far I’d let myself sink. Even having my own independence taken from me for good were the hottest thoughts I could have.

I distanced myself again, but after that experience I did realise that it was entirely possible to end up right back there. I’d probably live with the devouring mother forever. And with the right tricks she could be unlocked and made so much stronger. What really scares me is she could be made so strong that I could never put her away again. But the scariest realisation is there is a small part of me that wants that more than anything.