The “joy” of cruelty, as described by Sade and others, comes from the temporary cessation of shame it enables. I feel sure this is true. It is a relief, a burden lifted, and thus a huge source of satisfaction. It is, of course, drinking saltwater to slake thirst, since cruelty breeds more shame, even if that fact is denied and suppressed, with psychopathy perhaps most directly consisting in the ability to do so effectively and quickly. I don’t think anyone is purely cold all the time, although many come close. I think even serial killers have short moments when they wake from their trance and feel momentary regret, which they immediately suppress with drugs, alcohol, and perhaps more cruelty.
I seem to be growing, and growing, for me, is consisting in feeling a lot of pain I had suppressed, which kept me moving all the time emotionally, from here to there and back again. The movement was the method, and the method was running in circles without calling them circles.
Both of my parents poisoned me in their own ways. My mother by withholding love she did not know how to provide, while often losing her temper with me, and my father through more or less conscious cruelty of the sort described above. He was a bully. He liked cutting people emotionally, while proclaiming his innocence and good heart.
But neither provided so much poison that it destroyed me. I lived. And looking at it now, with eyes slowly opening, I see countless small rebellions, countless darings, and facings of the dark, that enabled me to live. With my past, it would be easily understood if I was a middle aged suicide. If I had not taken the risks I did, then I would be hopeless right now. Helpless.
But I did take those risks. I did rebel. I did take chance after chance after chance. Some worked, many didn’t, but I never allowed myself to be fully boxed in by my past.
In contrast to most of the history of this blog, I am feeling some satisfaction NOT posting things. I have a long list of ideas I keep, but I’m just not feeling the need or desire to post them. This is good. This means the squeeze, as I call it, is lessening, which is a key goal in my inner work.
They will show up eventually. This may even be the year I take another stab at a book. I think I have some useful things to say.