2. Kennedy
Kennedy
I made it home with my hands still shaking and slid down the back of the door like some clichéd horror movie character. Then I burst out laughing.
Not because it was particularly funny, but because I’d let myself get all worked up over something so ridiculous, and now I was sitting here like the final girl after a chase scene in a slasher movie.
I wiped my palms on my jeans and tried to catch my breath.
I’d just recalled that there was a popular haunted house attraction near the bypass.
Some year-round thing with jump scares and chainsaws and whatever.
So that guy with the skull mask was probably just some bored employee messing with people for fun.
Or maybe he thought someone on the bus would look at him and laugh, and I just happened to be the only one looking.
It was just a silly moment. Nothing more.
Still, I was breathless. I stayed by the door for a while, back pressed right up to it, trying to convince myself that the tremble in my hands wasn’t a warning. Just adrenaline with nowhere to go.
But I knew the truth. My anxiety wasn’t going to get better on its own. Whatever was happening inside me, it wasn’t just leftover trauma anymore. It was creeping into places it didn’t belong. Twisting things.
Earlier, Dr. King had suggested I keep using the grounding techniques we’d established a while ago, but he’d also mentioned a few online forums. Places where people shared their experiences anonymously. Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk, but I could at least read. See if anything felt familiar.
I stood, pulled out my laptop, and curled up on the couch, typing slowly at first, like the search bar might judge me somehow.
Anxiety recovery forum.
Thread after thread, and nothing quite landed. Then something else popped up. A Reddit post titled: The forums that actually helped me when therapy didn’t.
I clicked.
Most of it was what I expected. Basic wellness boards, mindfulness subreddits, the kind of spaces where people traded breathing techniques like recipes. But tucked in near the bottom was one with a name that really stood out.
Deepest Desires.
It wasn’t a therapy forum. Not officially, anyway. But the post said it helped people ‘untangle their darker instincts’, and some users had effectively utilized it to explore suppressed sexual dynamics, shame, confusion, and compulsion.
I almost clicked away, because it wasn’t really what I’d been looking for. But something about the phrasing ‘ untangle their darker instincts’ made my stomach tighten.
“Guess it’s worth a look,” I muttered to myself, clicking on the link.
I ended up spending the next couple of hours scrolling and reading.
The site was a real rabbit hole. Part confession booth, part therapy couch, part… something else entirely. People shared everything on it. Desires they were terrified of, and secrets they swore they'd never tell a soul in person.
It should’ve felt voyeuristic, reading it all. But instead, it felt like I was breathing for the first time in weeks. Maybe even years.
Some of it was dark. Really dark. But not in the way I expected. Not exhibitionism or shock value. It was just people trying to understand themselves. People who were scared of what lived in their own heads, but brave enough to drag it into the light anyway.
I was wrong earlier. This site was exactly what I’d been searching for.
I kept reading, and eventually, I summoned up the courage to click ‘New Post’.
I stared at the empty box for a long time before I finally began to type, slowly and haltingly. None of the personal details I provided—like age and location—were even remotely accurate, because I didn’t want to risk anyone figuring out who I was, but the feelings I wrote about were all true.
Posted by: greyveil013
Age: 27
Location: Oregon
Hi everyone. I’ve been holding on to a secret for a very long time, and it’s been driving me mad, so I think I need to put it somewhere to get it off my chest. This seems like a good place for that.
Anyway, here goes…
When I was a kid, my father was murdered. I didn’t actually see the murder happen, but I saw him being taken. The man who killed him grabbed him right in front of me and dragged him away. One second he was there, and the next, he was gone.
For years afterward, I dealt with horrible nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety, and night terrors.
I’ve had therapy for those, and it’s really helped a lot.
But the thing is, I just can’t be transparent about the other issue that contributes to my bad mental state, and I think that’s really been stalling my progress.
I’ve tried to talk about it with my therapist, but I just can’t make myself say it, because I’m too ashamed. So that’s why I’m posting it here anonymously instead.
So anyway… here’s the big bad secret.
Over the last few years, I’ve started to develop some pretty dark sexual fantasies. Not about the man who killed my father specifically, but killers in general. Brutal, psychopathic men who take and hurt innocent people.
I feel sick admitting this, even to myself. Also, it scares the shit out of me. Because what does it say about me as a person? What kind of monster fantasizes about stuff like that after seeing a killer kidnap their own parent?
I know how wrong it is, but it’s still in me anyway, and I don’t understand it, or where it came from. And I feel like I’ve betrayed my father’s memory somehow, just by thinking it.
It makes me feel like I deserve the nightmares. The paranoia. The constant feeling that something’s wrong with me, rotten deep down where no one can see. Maybe this is who I really am. Maybe I’m just a terrible person.
Anyway, sorry for the word vomit. I just really needed to get that all out.
I hovered over the ‘post’ button for a full minute, palms damp. Then I clicked it and slammed the laptop shut.
A few minutes later, I cracked it open again. And there they were. Responses. All soft and kind.
Lostherox : You’re not sick. You’re human. This is a trauma response, and it’s more common than you think.
Timtam77 : What you’re describing is actually a documented psychological pattern.
It’s like how sexual assault victims sometimes have rape fantasies - not because they want to be harmed, but because their mind is trying to rewrite the narrative and give them control over something that once left them powerless.
I realize you weren’t assaulted, but I’m sure you can see the similarities between that and your own case, right?
Destyne: Yeah, exactly. It doesn’t make you an evil monster. It makes you someone trying to survive something senseless.
XStephX : Agreed. And you don’t ever have to say this out loud if you’re not ready. That’s what this space is for. We’re all anonymous strangers. There’s no shame here.
I stared at the screen, throat tight. I still felt sick to my stomach from the shame coursing through me, but for the first time in a long while, I felt a little less alone.
I typed out another post.
Thanks so much for your responses. I really appreciate your understanding. I have a question now. Even if I can understand where the fantasies stem from, that doesn’t stop me from feeling terrible about it. So do any of you have any advice about dealing with the shame and guilt?
I checked the site again fifteen minutes later to find another six responses.
ShadowLoom: Shame really thrives in silence.
So you’ve already chipped away at it by naming it.
For me, writing helped. Also, therapy helps too, but only when you can be honest in it.
So maybe show your therapist this thread?
You said you have trouble saying the words out loud, but letting her/him read them instead could work.
Timtam77 : Please take what I say with a grain of salt, because I’m not a qualified psychotherapist. Just a middle school librarian, haha ??. But I do have a bit of experience in what you’ve described, so I wanted to suggest something that personally helped me with the shame I used to feel.
Instead of trying to suppress it (along with your fantasies/urges), you could try to lean into it instead.
Accept and embrace it. If and when you’re ready, you could even try to find a trusted person to help you explore the fantasies.
Or you could do what I do and write stories (feel free to check my profile if you’re interested in reading a few!).
Lastly, it’s probably helpful to look up general shame coping techniques that therapists recommend, if you really can’t face the thought of talking to someone in person (or showing them this thread like ShadowLoom suggested before).
Not all of the techniques helped me, but we’re all different people, so it’s worth a try for you.
Whatever you end up doing, make sure you stay safe! Much love from Minnesota.
Lostherox : Seconding what Timtam said! The way you’ve repressed your sexuality for so long (because of all the shame you feel over it) could have resulted in at least some of the anxiety-related problems you mentioned. Can’t run and hide from yourself forever, right?
Also: maybe google something called ‘hybristophilia’. Not sure if it applies to you or not, because I don’t know you personally, but it sounds like it could? Looking into that and what triggers it might help somewhat.
Novalee : Yup yup yup hybristophilia was my exact thought too!
But even if that’s the root cause of your fantasies, it’s like you said, Greyveil013 – knowing what caused it doesn’t exactly make the shame disappear.
So I agree with what Timtam said too. Try to embrace your fantasies and explore them instead of shoving them away.