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Episode Transcript:



Welcome to Episode 415, our final one of 2018. I got some surveys I wanna read: Some really beautiful ones, some really fucking dark ones, too. A couple of happy ones, and one that's just awfulsomely odd and beautiful. And, a Christmas one at the end that I just think sums up Christmas so beautifully. Cuz I, uh, have some thoughts about traditions. For the longest time, I felt like there was something wrong with me, that I didn't enjoy weddings, I didn't enjoy Thanksgiving, I didn't enjoy Christmas. New Year's I enjoyed, and that's where everyone would be as drunk as I normally was and I could blend in. But, um, I just don't like getting or giving gifts out of obligation, you know. I … once a year, we're essentially getting together and stocking each other's future garage sales. And, it's not that people don't give a shit in giving the gifts. Sometimes, just people really close to us don't even know us. And I believe that most people are inherently good, but silently just consumed with something that's making them hurt. And, so we don't often connect to other people. Or, we avoid them out of shame or sense of feeling different. And, for me … maybe I'm alone in this, but the happier the tradition, the more fucked up my thoughts are. Like, sometimes if I'm watching a father walk his daughter down the aisle, sometimes I'm really moved. And other times, I'll think, “I wonder if she secretly hates her life? Just feels like she's walking the plank. Because she wants to be with a woman, but her family would shame her for that, and she can't find the strength to speak her truth. And every time she has sex with her husband, she's gonna think about her college roommate so she can cum. And then, when she goes into the bathroom afterwards, she sits on the toilet and cries. I wonder if she secretly hates her dad, because he's one of those dads, and they have that secret that makes her wanna throw up. And she hates her mom, because she knows her mom knows, but did nothing because she doesn't want to get a divorce; bear the gossip; or satisfied, pitying looks in her social circles. You know, the unspoken secret of the wealthy or the wanna-be wealthy. Instead of opening up, the only way they can feel better, or know how to feel better, is if someone else feels worse or has less. So, they make small talk, we make small talk. And underneath it, we're dying on the inside.” How many of us have ever been in a group of people, we're all dressed up and you just want to just say to somebody, “Is that emptiness in your chest ever feel like it's just gonna pull you off of a bridge?” I know I've wanted to say that. Maybe I didn't have the words to say it, but I've had that feeling. But instead, we talk about the weather, and how beautiful the bride is, and inside we're just hoping we don't look as ugly as we feel inside. So, needless to say (chuckles) I'm not a huge fan of Christmas.

[00:03:40] This is an email I got. And, uh, she wants to be referred to … she says you can call me “Al:” “Paul, hope you're well. Been a listener for over a year. Your podcast inspired me to begin therapy.” That, by the way, is one of my favorite things: that people start therapy or get into a support group from—or just opening up to a close friend. “I've a question I hope you can provide insight on. My therapist is great. She laughs at my shitty jokes, and is extremely empathetic. I'm very glad to work with her. Today, we had an appointment. We even confirmed the appointment time earlier in the day. I show up five minutes early and wait. Our time comes, she doesn't come out. Five minutes pass, I feel frustrated and ten minutes … and I think the irony of needing a therapist to deal with this. And 15 minutes pass, she still doesn't come out. I call her phone, no answer. Twenty-five minutes passed, and I decide to knock on her door. I knock; I wait. My heart is pounding, I'm sweating, she doesn't answer. At this point, I'm concerned for her safety and wonder if I should just go on in and check on her. I decide to knock louder. After a few moments, she comes to the door and is clearly out of it. I tell her we had an appointment, and she realizes it is 25 minutes past. She tells me that she fell asleep on the couch. She offers to see me for the remainder of the time; I decline. We reschedule for another day. I tell her that, hey, stuff happens and that's it's ok. I leave the office and check my email when I get home, sensing an apology email coming my way. I'm right; she apologizes; but, I still feel angry. While I understand that therapists are humans who make mistakes like the rest of us, I feel gypped. If a patient cancels within 24 hours of the appointment time, she charges $50. If they don't show, she charges the whole amount. Our sessions are 50 minutes long; I spend 25 minutes waiting for her—not including travel time to her office. I even had to use up some of my paid time off at work for the session. Am I wrong for feeling like our next session should be compensated for the half-session I spent waiting for her? How do I possibly bring this up?” And I wrote back: “I think you should read her what you wrote me. It's diplomatic, honest, and might even be an opportunity for you two to process other stuff in your life that relates to and the feelings it brings up.” And she wrote, “Thanks for getting back to me. I want you to know that as soon as I sent you this email, I felt inspired to email her my concerns. She completely understood; told me she was happy I had the courage to ask her and will discount our next session for my lost time. She thanked me for continuing to trust her for handling my therapeutic needs. It felt like the weight of the world off my shoulders to read that. It also showed that I really had made improvements through therapy. Before starting counseling, I would have simply said nothing and silently resented her for it.” What a great example of … instead of blowing something off and just feeling hate and resentment or exploding at somebody, just taking a deep breath. Maybe bouncing it off somebody to find the right words to express your feelings and to do it diplomatically. It's like, the best tool in the world.

[00:07:10] This is a happy moment filled out by ... um—hold on one second; this is a long name, and I need a sip of tea (sips tea in background)—a woman who calls herself “I'd Like to Formally Apologize to Paul For Him Having to Try to Read My Cats' Names Out Loud. They're Finnish.” And her happy moment: “About a week ago, I had had a really stressful couple of weeks. Way more shit than I could realistically handle, and I noticed some of the symptoms resurfaced that I thought were gone. That night—it was Wednesday, and that meant there were still a few really busy days ahead—I sat down on the kitchen floor to feed my cats (that's just a thing I do; nothing weird about it). I have two cats. Others from Facebook's flea market and a little dim, but your basic cat.” Oh, I guess Others is one of the cats' names. “… but your basic cat.” I dunno, maybe there's a typo in here—“… but the cat's name is Takunah Cooliest Chilly Klanku van Nellerkirk (sp. for the WHOLE name!).” (chuckles) I'm sure I'm not even getting close to that! “The other one is from a rescue society that trapped her from the forest or something and she is still feral-ish. Her name is Pootie (sp.), and when she arrived almost two years ago, the poor thing stayed motionless under the couch for over two days. I've worked really hard to domesticate her—as hard as I can, being exhausted, chronically, mentally ill. But she is stubborn in her ways. But, nowadays, she hangs out, doesn't run away when she notices I've noticed her, and generally is more accepting of my presence. So I was sitting on the floor, feeding the cat kibbles as is our nighttime ritual. I felt so exhausted and numb. I wanted to cry for so many days, but couldn't. It felt like I was crumbling to little pieces, knowing I still had two more exhausting days ahead. The cats were eating next to my legs,”—It's better than eating her legs—“I poured some of the kibbles on the floor cuz I was too exhausted to clean their cups. I had my hand near Pootie's (sp.) food as she was used to eating from my hand, so it wasn't a big deal for her. She doesn't understand that hand is part of a scary, big human. She pushed her head against my hand, trying to get a kibble underneath it. Instead of moving my hand, I gently brushed it over her head. She didn't mind. I did it again. She continued eating. I petted my cat for the first time! She was soft and fluffy as fuck. I started crying, trying not to sob too loud as to not scare her away. At that moment I thought, 'Oh, wow, look at that. Almost like there will be moments that make the life worth living. Who would've known?'” Thank you for that. Your English is very good! It's so funny, people that write in from other countries that apologize about their English, their English is always so … so impressive. Thank you for that.

[00:10:22] Oh! I wanna give a shout-out to our sponsor, Betterhelp.com. They're great, if you've never tried online therapy. I'm a huge fan of it. Love my counselor, Donna. She helps me through every issue that comes up in my, in my life. And, uh, she's empathetic and wise and … like … the previous, uh, note, laughs at my shitty jokes. So, if you wanna try Betterhelp.com, go to betterhelp.com/mental and make sure you include the “/mental” part. They'll match you up with a Betterhelp.com counselor and then you can experience a free week of counseling to see if online counseling is right for you. And you need to be over 18. You can also communicate—if you don't want to do video, you can do audio. You could do live chat or texting, talk on the phone. This is normally where I would inject a bunch of jokes about smoke signals, Pony Express, Morse code (chuckles), but I will refrain from that. So, check it out.

[00:11:29] This is a body shame survey filled out by a woman who calls herself “Sweet Caroline.” And to the question “What do you like or dislike about your body, and why,” she writes (clears throat), “I've always hated my scars. The scars from self-injury and the scars from cystic acne. They reminded me of a past that I wanted to forget. They reminded me of loss, abuse, sadness and pain. I dissociated from my body and orphaned my story. Went away to college and I was able to forget. Ten years later, I found myself drowning in depression and anxiety. I started therapy and the very painful process of coming back into my body. Today, my scars remind me that my past was, in fact, very difficult. Whenever the mean voices in my head try to tell me that my childhood wasn’t that bad, that I don't deserve help, that I'm exaggerating … I sit down and look at my scars and they reassure me that I was a worrier back then, I am a worrier today, and I will always be a worrier.” Beautiful … beautiful. Thank you for that. It's so … it's so common that … we tend to just solely focus on the struggles we had behind us or the things we feel like we'll never be able to achieve ahead of us, and we forget how much fight we had in us. And we're still … we're still here.

[00:12:59] This is a shame and secret survey filled out by—boy, do I love this name!–a woman who calls herself “The Over-Exaggerator Minimizer.” She identifies as pansexual, in her 40s. Ever been the victim of sexual abuse? “Some stuff happened, but I don't know if it counts. My brother tried to have sex with me in early grade school. He's a couple years older than me. He got on top of me and I could feel his gross little pecker on my leg and I remembered telling him to get off and pushing him and he got mad and said, 'It's not like you're gonna get pregnant or anything.' We were on a family vacation, and he and I had to share a room and my parents took the other room. I remember pounding on the wall, trying to get them to come into our room, but they didn't respond. I feel like my brother has been mad at me ever since. That was probably 34 years ago. I brought it up with him over the phone a couple of years ago, thinking it would resolve something for me. He said he didn't remember that happening and asked me to not tell his wife, which I thought was kind of weird, but I get it. I told my parents, too; that was weird, too, because I feel like they were sort of, 'That's no big deal. Kids do weird things.' But it fucked with me. I'm pretty sure it fucked with me. The first time a boy …”—And I wanna say that it's not uncommon for siblings to experiment with each other in, um, in a wanting to see each other's body parts and stuff like that. But things that your brother was saying sounded a little more advanced, you know. Talking about getting pregnant, um, age difference, and stuff like that. Anyway, it's not for me to decide how to classify something—(laughs) I do it all the time! Anyway! “The first time a boy kissed me …”—I did kind of enjoy that noise (makes sound with his mouth). “The first time a boy kissed me, I even had a panic attack. I felt so scared and confused and grossed out. It was at a hotel. It happened in the hot tub, with a boy that I had been talking to around the hotel for the last couple of days. I remember my mom coming in the hotel bathroom, asking me what happened. And I was crying in the shower and I think she kind of felt sorry for me.” It's interesting, too, that the thing that happened with your brother happened in a hotel on vacation, and then this happened as well. I wonder if, um, that was especially triggering and … Like, when I go into the hotels that were … like, when I go into the hotel I used to stay at when we would tape Dinner and a Movie on the road, I would put so much pressure on myself. And just the smell of the soap that was in that hotel. When I smell it today, my stomach gets into a knot and, uh—how's that for turning it around and making this about me?! “I squeezed the travel shampoo bottle so hard, the top flew off. The boy and I just made out. I just remember him sucking on my chin; so gross. He had given me a hickey and I had to …”—(chuckles) Sucking on the chin; that IS odd!—“I had given him … he had given me a hickey and I had to wear a stupid red mock-collar turtleneck THAT WAS MY MOM'S! Ugh, so embarrassing! So, from that point out, I had to drink to be sexually active. Oh, and also in college, I was locked in a dorm room with five football players. I was dating this boy who was college football player and, really, we would just get drunk and mess around. One of the times we hung out, I went to his dorm, thinking we were just gonna have a regular make-out session. But he and his buddies had this plan all set up to trick me. I don't know what else to call it other than a trick. Before I got there, four of his football buddies hid in the guy's closet in a small dorm room. So the whole time this boy and I were messing around (not sex, but everything else; I was naked) the guys watched from the closet. And while was all happening, someone outside of the dorm door 'penned' the door (stuck pennies all around the door, which somehow jammed it and locked me in). I remember the guy I was dating laughing and looking at one of the closets. And when I realized what was happening and people were in the closet, it took me a second. I lost my fucking mind. I was screaming and crying and trying to get the closet doors open to see who was in there, and they held the doors shut so I couldn't see them. Finally, someone took the pennies out of the damn door and I got out of that room. But, you know what? I fucking waited outside that room until they all came out. I screamed in that hallway that I wasn’t leaving until I looked each one in the eyes. What a fucking strong-ass spitfire I was, right? Fucking yeah! And then, the next day, I told the guy I was dating I wanted an apology letter with all their signatures, saying they would never do anything like that ever again. I threatened them, that if I didn't get an apology letter, I would go to the local paper and their fucking football coach and tell them everything. I was so mad. I still am. So, they met me at a Taco Bell and gave me the signed letter. They only signed their first names. Dicks! But I made the biggest football player cry. He said football was his life, and he couldn't fuck that up. Motherfucking men! The following months, I was a mess. I went to the pastor at my school, and he shamed me for the incident. I told my dad, and he asked me why I was there in the first place.” —What the fuck?!—“My mom didn't say anything. I almost dropped out of school, but I finished with a degree in women's studies. Ha, I love that! One more thing: I dated women for 16 years after that. Now I'm dating men again, and it's really fucking hard. They are awful. Most of the men I meet are emotionally stunted and have no idea how to please a woman sexually. But also, I pick addicts and I'm super codependent. So many issues, but I'm not giving up; I'm working through this shit. Your episode about emotional neglect really ignited something in me.” She's also been physically abused and emotionally abused. “My ex-husband is an alcoholic. He would gaslight me all the time and was really manipulative. One time, when he was drunk, he was trying to smash my phone with a hammer and I was trying to get it away from him and he put me in a headlock and the hammer was really close to my face. I got away and ran out of the house and stayed somewhere else that night. I was truly scared he was gonna hurt me. He was so ripped then: Ju-jitsu and weightlifter. But I find myself wondering if that's considered physical abuse, because he was laughing while he was doing it, and his intention wasn't to hurt me; just to break the phone. See, isn't that sick that I'm questioning the abuse right now? I think because of his intentions, he wasn't seeking me out and beating me up. I don't want to seem like a baby.” Abuse, in my opinion, is what we experience, how we experience that. And, ultimately, our healing doesn't depend on what that person's intention was, you know? It depends on us going back and feeling those feelings so we can let the emotions out that we stuffed down or minimized or ignored (clears throat). But, yeah, that's fucking scary, man! That's scary. And somebody putting you in a headlock, that's physical abuse. You know, you not allowing somebody to move … that’s, that's abusive. Any positive experiences with the abusers? “Yeah, it's weird with my brother. Our relationship is so forced. Whenever I'm around him, there is the grossest energy in the room. But sometimes we connect. For his birthday this year, I sent him a crumbled $5 bill and a card. I thought he would think it was really funny. And he did. And he sent me five bucks a couple months later, with just a note saying 'Happy July.' He called and we laughed about it. We rarely ever talk, so that was kind of fun.” Darkest thoughts: “I would let my dog lick my vagina when I was in grade school and sometimes I think about that when I'm masturbating and I cum so quickly. I had my first orgasm with my dog. So much shame wrapped around that because it felt so good.” Again, a fairly common thing, and, you shouldn’t shame yourself, um, for anything that makes you cum, as long as you're not doing it, um, hurting somebody. Darkest secrets: "The previous one. Oh, and I smell the crotch of my underwear almost every time I go to the bathroom. I feel like it's a way to stay on top of my health. Like, if I start to get a bacterial infection, I can tell right away. Plus, I just like the smell of my own vagina. No, I know it, I like it. It's pretty great, even when it's not." (chuckles) That's awesome! I think all the things you're describing are so fucking human and, and common, um … yeah. And I've talked to other women who say the same thing. Sexual fantasies most powerful to you? "I like to imagine a burly guy with a big beard who is a woodworker. He's super dirty and stinky and thinks I'm the cat's meow. He's really sweet on me and thinks I'm super funny and sexy. He likes to pick me up and tenderly fuck me all over his shop. Sharing this makes me feel horny." As a woodworker, and to any woodworkers who are listening, if you're like me, my first thought was, "Well, you wouldn't want to do it on cast iron, because then it would get wet, and that would rust. So, you'd have to do it either on aluminum or on a wood surface. And then there might be splinters. (laughs). Thank you for, uh, sharing that, that's awesome. You’re so honest, you know. I bet you, um—and you've got such a core of strength inside you, you know, that confrontation in that dorm hallway is just ... amazing, and people that are friends with you, um, probably feel really grateful to be your friend, because you're probably really fiercely protective of, uh, of people. Cuz most of us can be more protective of other people than we can of ourselves. So if you're that protective of yourself, I've gotta imagine you're pretty loyal. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. What, if anything, do would like to say to someone you haven't been able to? "I would like to say some choice words to those football players that sexually tricked me. I would like to just spit in their faces and tell their wives or girlfriends or co-workers or neighbors how fucked up they all are, and then I wanna fuck with each of them secretly for years." What, if anything, do you wish for? "I wish for the ability to have a super-fun, non-codependent, loving, kind, sexual, silly relationship with someone. I think it will be a while; I'm an awful partner right now. I know it will happen, but I'm not ready." That's so awesome though that you recognize that you're not ready, and that you wanna break the cycle. And there are SO many support groups for codependency and, um, overcoming childhood dysfunction and sexual trauma and stuff like that. Have you shared these things with others? "Oh, for sure. I've been talking about codependency, love addiction, and emotional stuff so much lately." How do you feel after writing these things down? "Really scared someone is going to hear this and piece it together that it's me. Cuz I've been telling all my friends about this podcast and how awesome it is." And, you know, I was gonna hold off on some of the things that you wrote in there, in case that was true, but you are somebody—First of all, anybody that listens to this podcast, I think is pretty open-minded and wants to connect with other people. And if a friend of yours did recognize you from this, I think that they would ... you know ... be like high-fucking five for speaking your truth, and it's nothing to be embarrassed, and they probably hear something I don't talk about that I kind of feel weird about, or struggle to not feel shame about, or ... Anyway, thank you for that.

[00:26:46] This is a happy moment filled out by "Lilock (sp.)" and, uh, Lilock (sp.) is agender, and they wrote: "After having countless 'bad days' this summer, I finally decided to use what I learned from therapy and podcasts, specifically self-care: a nap. I desperately wanted and needed just a simple nap! So I found a nice, soft blanket and laid down on my couch. Just when I was drifting in that wonderful in-between stage of consciousness and sweet oblivion, my six-month old puppy jumped up on my chest and settled down for a nap. Then my cat joined us. Best.nap.ever!" I'm jealous! I'm just straight-up fucking jealous! My girlfriend has an adorable little cat named Pablo, and, um—and, yes, I know that's the equivalent of my name in Spanish—and he ... he's kind of affectionate, but I always want more affection from him than he's willing (laughs) to give. And, like, as soon as I get to her apartment, I'm like, "Oh, so good to see you baby," give her a kiss, and then I lay down on the floor and try to get Pablo to let me pet his belly and ... I just love the way he purrs. But taking a nap with a dog—when Ivy was a puppy, she would lay her neck across my neck. I would lay on my back, and she would lay her neck across my neck and we would nap. And it was just, the best. The fucking best.

[00:28:26] This is another shame and secret survey, uh, filled out by a woman who calls herself, umm—anybody new listening to the podcast: yes, we do have male listeners and they do fill out surveys, sometimes. But, there's been a little bit of a, um, what is the word ... dearth, of them lately. So, fellas? Get off of your asses and share some of your insides with us. This is a woman who calls herself "Sea Glass," and she is straight, in her 30s, raised in a totally chaotic environment. Ever been the victim of sexual abuse? "Some stuff happened, but I don’t know if it counts." Hold on one second (sips drink in background). "I've been attending 12-step programs for my sex and love addiction and because I come from a dysfunctional family. Yesterday my younger sister came to visit me, and I noticed she was being inappropriate—something we always used to be and then joke about it to take the edge off the awkwardness. For example, she was freezing and pointed out to me that her nipples were peeking out through her shirt before she hid it behind her hair. I had to make a joke and quickly move on to avoid the awkward situation. Later, when she had to leave, I gave her a big hug because I know we won't be seeing each other for a while. But when the hug lasted too long for her, she turned her head and sniffed my hair and ear and I shrugged away laughing. I remember that my mother and other sister did this when hugs went on too long for comfort. It's always been hard to put my finger on this slight discomfort that always arises. I realize, when oftentimes when we hug, I get the feeling that we a pressing our female bodies against each other. And the situation feels weirdly sexualized. Looking back at my mother and stepfather's families, I don't think that they ever got truly intimate hugs from their parents. I think that they only know intimacy through boyfriends and girlfriends, and that's why the hugs in my family have always been so stiff and awkward. My stepfather also has very poor sexual boundaries. His eyes can get stuck in my cleavage, and the only time he ever complimented me was when I had tight-fitting clothes that showed off my newly-developed body as a 14-year-old. He's always been bad at disguising his feelings and his porn, and I've always felt slightly disgusted by him without knowing exactly why." Uh, I think you just said exactly why, you know. And somebody's porn ... somebody's feelings ... you knowing ANYTHING about your step-father's porn predilections is super fucked-up, um, you know. And that's, that’s on him. That's something an adult is—if you're doing that, that's something that you need to go to great lengths to make sure it doesn't cross your child's, uh, path, you know. Whether they’re looking at your browser, or, you know, whatever it is, that's on that parent, in my opinion. "My mother was never really present when I needed her, but could suddenly get clingy when she felt like it." That’s another inappropriate thing, is a parent being clingy to a child is SUPER fucked-up and SUPER damaging. It's ... yeah. "She would oftentimes objectify me as she pulled me towards her, calling me her doll and infantilizing me. When I would pull away from her, she would ask me why I didn't want to hug her, but I couldn’t answer and felt bad that I didn't want to be close to my own mother. I always wanted a real hug from her, but could never appreciate the hugs she gave me." Boy do I relate to that! It took me ... it wasn't until I was in my mid- to late-40s that I realized I hated being hugged by my mother because it felt like I was bring drained by her, like I was doing it for her. And that I never felt comfort by her hugs, that it was for her. And I'm not necessarily putting that on her. I'm just saying that that's what I , what I felt. And I would feel drained by it, and then I would l blame myself and say, "You're a bad son, because you don't enjoy hugging your mother." And that not that I never enjoyed hugging my mother. But there were many times that I just wanted to be away from her, and she would infantilize me and call me "Mom's Cutest, Dearest, Sweetest ...," you know, “Little Peaches" and it would just be, you know, there was ... a part of me would be like "My mon loves me. This is her way of trying to express love to me." But it was very possessive and infantilizing. And it took me a long time to realize that I don't like that, and that I have a right to say, "Can you please not talk to me like that?" "I've often wondered if I was abused ... Now I realize why I can't be close to my family: the emotional incest and poor boundaries make true intimacy impossible. I’ve often wonder if I was abused as a child, but had no memory of being raped or molested by anyone. Yet I always had this feeling that some sexual inappropriateness started my sex and love addiction at a very young age." That makes sense to me, cuz the stuff that you've described is, you know, that is on the continuum of, uh, abusiveness. From what I have read, um, books by therapists and psychologists, and, um, therapists that I've had, and my own personal experience. "It took me a few years, but I'm finally beginning to understand how the mixed messages have affected me. And I wouldn’t have figured it out if it wasn’t for the podcast. Thank you talking about emotional incest; I'll make sure to spread the word wherever I can." I say you do it in line at fast-food restaurants. You say, "Before I order, I just want everybody to know, if someone in your family gives you creepy hugs, it's ok to not feel good about it. Now enjoy your meals." She's been physically abused. "They had rage issues, and they pull my arms, pull my hair, and spank me as punishment for doing something bad or ‘having a bad attitude’ (standing up for myself)." Any positive experiences with them? "There've been good times. My step-father's a real pushover, so I could get him to buy me whatever I wanted and feed me candy all day, if I wanted it. Looking back, I see how that's abusive, too, and a lot of my good memories are tainted by poor boundaries, even if it felt good at the time." So often, that spoiling is part of the, the gaslighting, in, like, a way of trying to soothe the hurt that they did in other ways, whether it's conscious or not. Darkest thoughts? "I’ve been having incest fantasies, and also imagine that I'm a child having sex with an adult man. Anything taboo has been especially sexually triggering. I also used to have a lot of violent fantasies about killing people who were mean to me, but I don't feel that way anymore." Darkest secrets? "When I was a child, I tried to make out with my younger sisters. And I gathered the boys I played with in my basement and we'd undress and laid on top of each other. I've used my mother's vibrator and my step-father's porn to get off. The worst thing that I've done in adult life is acting out at work with objects or food that belong to other people and then cleaning it up and putting it back. I regret this deeply today, but can still have triggering fantasies about doing it again." Thank you for being honest about that, and, um, you know. It's, it's—to me, it's all about trying to find the healthiest way to express what we're feeling inside because, you know, if we don't open up and talk about or set boundaries with people, you know, the things we do that cause us shame are gonna remain the tools that we go to, to soothe ourselves or to feel something, you know. To just feel ANYTHING intensely—when you feel dead inside, ANYTHING will do to feel alive, even if there's shame attached to it. Sexual fantasies most powerful to you? "Acting out in public with the risk of getting caught, or using people's things without their consent. Having sex with someone while they are sleeping. Having sex with animals. Incest." How does this make you feel, sharing that? "It makes me feel horny and ashamed, though I understand now that it's common to feel this way, and that it gets better with recovery." Anything you'd like to share with someone you haven't been able to? "Please don't kill yourself. I need you in my life." What, if anything, do you wish for? "Recovery and true intimacy." Have you shared these things with others? "I've shared some stuff with people who have the same fantasies in order to create sexual tension, but this is the first time I've shared about it in order to boost my emotional recovery." And that's something that I had done in the past in early recovery. I would have conversations with women that I now can look back and say, "Man, that was inappropriate on my part." I was getting off by opening up to them, but telling myself, "Oh, I'm just being emotionally honest," but I wasn't checking in with them and saying, "Hey, is it ok that we're talking about these things?" And, um, I'm glad that I don't do it anymore. But it's still, it's ... sometimes it hard to forgive ourselves for things, especially if feel that that person, you know, might be grossed out by us now, or not feel safe around us. But that, that's also a part of recovery, man—is finding a way to move forward and not continue to shame ourselves, but find a better tool to deal with what we're feeling. How do you feel after writing these things down? "Powerful, humble, grateful. I feel some much love for other people who are going through the same battles in their heads." Anything you’d like to share with someone who shares your thoughts or feelings? "Seek out a 12-step program and continue to listen to the podcast. You will be amazed how good you will feel. You can't even imagine the relief and love that will flow through you when you start to recover." That's been my experience, man. Support groups, especially for intimacy issues. That … the work that I did there and the healing that I felt there inspired me to start this podcast. Cuz once I learned how to be vulnerable and let safe people in and love me ... All of a sudden, earth looked differently to me.

[00:40:22] This is a great happy moment ... it's so odd and beautiful. This is filled out by a gender-fluid person that calls themselves, "Perputually Walking Home in My Hades Costume." I don't know if you guys remember, but there was a fucking great survey, maybe a month ago or so, where the person described walking home in a Hades costume, and I've gotta imagine this is them again. "December 2nd was the first day of Hanukkah, and one of my closest friends is Jewish. She wanted to make marshmallow dreidels for her synagogue, so I offered to host a dreidel-making party at my house. My friend dubbed herself “the resident Jew,” and proclaimed out little gathering to be the Dreidels and Skulls Sorority. It bears mentioning that she and I and another friend who came to helped out are all on the autism spectrum. We all experience the same feeling of not fitting in and failing to connect with others on some vital level that's impossible to describe and impossible to escape. But as the three of us say around the table together, singing oldies along with the radio, not worrying about what we sounded like, but just enjoying the feeling of togetherness and harmony that’s created when you join your voice with other voices in joyful surrender, I had the most profoundly spiritual experience I have ever felt in the presence of other humans. My whole being was lit up with the feeling like a higher vibration. Like the inside of my mind was pure sweetness and light. No doubts, no anxiety, no depression; just sweetness and light. Towards the end of the party, we wrote our names on marshmallow and stuck them on a menorah my friend had brought along for the occasion. Since it was our party, and we could celebrate it anyway we wanted, we decided to decorate the menorah with dreidels and Halloween skulls. And then we lit all the candles, even though it was only the first day of Hanukkah. And what probably counts as an awfulsome moment: Eventually the candles burned low enough to set the marshmallows on fire, and we watched with horrified glee as our namesake marshmallows were incinerated between the glaring grins of our Halloween skulls. And the song, which just so happened to be on the radio at that moment? The old Doors song, The End." (laughs) Such a fucking FANTASTIC dark song! "And, if you’ve never heard it, look it up right now and listen to it before you finish reading the rest of this, cuz it's just so great. I have to admit I was both horrified and gleeful in equal measure. It was so perfect, so macabre, so gorgeous. I asked the resident Jew if she was ok with so much Holocaust symbolism. After all, skulls in the menorah? Cremated marshmallows with our names on them? Jim Morrison singing, "This is the end, beautiful friend, the end?" I mean, geez Louise! But, she loved it. Maybe because the moment embraced the reality of the Jewish experience on a level most people who aren’t autistic don't even allow, let alone celebrate on a holy day, and brought on a sort of spiritual catharsis. I dunno, but it was such a glorious and moving display. We’ve decided to make it an annual tradition. And an annual tradition of togetherness and spiritual connection and a lifetime of emotional and spiritual poverty. It truly is a happy moment and a cause to celebrate." Thank you for that. That is just so fantastic. So fantastic.

[00:44:11] This, I debated on whether or not to read, cuz it's REALLY dark, and it's pretty graphic. It is a snapshot from someone's life, and I normally don't do trigger warnings, um, but you may want to fast-forward a minute or two, um, because this is pretty, it's pretty heavy and it's pretty graphic. But it really moved me and I feel like this podcast ... I want this podcast to be one of the places where people can hear stuff that they can't hear anywhere else. Because, for some people who've had really, really dark experiences, the feeling of being alone is exacerbated by people not wanting to hear their truth or to talk about their truth. This is filled out—again, this is a struggle in a sentence—filled out by a woman who calls herself "Dabstress (sp.) G." About her depression: "Like I’m missing some intrinsic part of being human." About her sex addiction: "The only natural high I get is from the thrill of having sex with a new man." About her codependency: "Being in a codependent relationship feels like being on a shitty, rickety old seesaw for eternity." And then, this is the snapshot that I was warning you about. "The fresh, self-inflicted cigarette burn stings my hand, as you bend me over the cold, marble bathroom counter. You lean into my ear and whisper, "If you move or make a sound, you will never see me again." And my blood runs cold. You're fucking my asshole, as I lay there like a dead fish. I don't feel anything, and I'm not here anymore. I didn’t move or make a sound. You pushed me down and jack off onto my face. You're staring down into my eyes. Your face twisted up horribly, in an expression I can only describe as terrifyingly primal. And I can see how much you truly hate me. When you're finished, I look at myself in the mirror. Your cum drips down my face and my eyes are dull and lifeless. My makeup I had spent hours on that morning for our date-day, is smeared and ruined. I hate the dead girl staring back at me, and I still see her since then." Sending you some love, man. I hope you're processing that with a professional, or in a support group. Any comments to make the podcast better? "Stop apologizing for censoring out the more intense and disturbing content. I'm a loyal fan, and I pay for the back catalogue on Stitcher, and the darker episodes are honestly my favorite. They keep me coming back for more." Thank you for that; sending you some love.

[00:47:37] This is a happy moment filled out by a trans-masculine, uh, person who refers to themselves as "Gene (sp.) E. " They identify as trans-masculine, uh, gender queer. "When I voiced my worst fear of transition to my husband, he said 'You're straight. You fell'—" (phone rings in background) Who the fuck was that?! My phone—Oh! "When I voiced my worst fear of transition to my husband, ..."—and this is what they said to their husband—"You're straight. You fell in love with someone who looked like a woman. You won't be attracted to me with a beard and chest hair and no boobs. He responded, 'Honey, if you're a man, I'm not as straight as I thought I was. I loved you by your other name, and I love you by your new name.' In a split second, he was willing to accept that, as my gender identity changed, so would his sexual identity." That is one of the most beautiful things I've read. And, thank you for filling that out.

[00:49:05] And then this is, I think, the fucking hall of fame moment, especially cuz it has to do with Christmas. And this is filled out by a woman who calls herself "Just a Mess." And she writes: "I'd ordered two bikes for my fiancé and I as Christmas presents on Black Friday. When I ordered them, I didn’t realize I had to pick them up by the following Tuesday or the 50 percent discount would no longer apply. So, Tuesday evening, after receiving a warning email, I drove to the store with my car, thinking I could fit them in the back of my car after putting down the backseats. After waiting for 30 minutes to be helped, the worker brought down these two bikes and I immediately realized there was no way they would fit in my car. I asked if they had a bike rack I could purchase. The clerk showed me one that was WAY more than I wanted to spend and I asked if it was easy to install. He said it was. I brought the rack outside in the dark and rain to try and install it on my car. The pictures made no sense to me, and I couldn't figure it out. The papers began flying all over the parking lot, and I had to chase down the box the rack came in. Feeling frustrated, I went inside the car to warm up. I looked down and had not only gotten my period, but bled through my leggings. Feeling defeated, I went to go inside to tell the workers I would be able to bring the bikes home that day. I'd been in the store for over two hours and knew that my fiancé would be wondering where I was. While in line, I got a text from my fiancé, saying, 'How soon until you’re home?' I clicked on it to respond, but then the clerk was ready to talk to me. He seemed to be looking down, when I realized that my fiancé had not only sent the textual message, but a dick pic that was now taking up most of the phone screen. I awkwardly shoved the phone in my pocket and explained to the worker that there was no way I could install the rack. He then said he could probably help me out. In his shorts and t-shirt, he went back outside and helped me for a half-hour installing the rack and getting the bikes on it. I was so grateful for him. He restored my faith in humanity. And my fiancé better like those goddamn bikes!" FUCK! That's so ... (chuckles, snorts) ... THAT was Christmas to me! THAT survey was Christmas to me.

Well, I hope you guys liked this episode. And, if you're out there and you're, uh, you’re struggling, you're not alone. That's a simple as I can put it! You're not alone, and thanks for listening.

Outro