# I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE



## Ian8777 (Aug 12, 2015)

In his short story ‘The Imp of the Perverse,’ Edgar Allen Poe tells the tale of a man who commits murder in order to inherit wealth and property, but after many years of living in luxury, the man becomes plagued by a repeating thought that instructs him to confess his crime. Eventually this single thought becomes so strong that the man does confess, leading to his incarceration and eventual execution.


Poe’s story examines why as humans we are sometimes presented by our own minds with the most inappropriate of thoughts at the most inappropriate of times, almost as if being instructed by an external, malevolent force that seeks us to bring harm upon ourselves or others. Ever stood on a cliff top or a train station platform and suddenly thought 'jump?!' Ever had an urge to punch a stranger in the face? These type of thoughts are known by psychologists as _Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts.

_
Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts are described by psychologists as:_ Any distinct, identifiable cognitive event that is unwanted, unintended, and recurrent. It interrupts the flow of thought, interferes in task performance, is associated with negative affect, and is difficult to control.

_
Or as Herman Melville put it:

_‘One trembles to think of that mysterious thing in the soul, which seems to acknowledge no human jurisdiction, but in spite of the individual’s own innocent self, will still dream horrid dreams, and mutter unmentionable thoughts.’

_​My own experience with Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts started around fifteen years ago. Depression had found it’s way to my door and was actually kind enough to bring a little anxiety as well. I am not whining about it, I am not saying ‘poor me, poor me.’ We all have these points in our lives and we all have to get through them.

Within a few months the colour had drained from my life and all the things I used to find pleasurable had lost their appeal. I became sullen and withdrawn. I stopped laughing and struggled in social situations. My confidence was shattered. I had nothing to say, nothing to contribute. I felt the walls of life closing in and saw no escape from the grey nothingness that had replaced my feelings and emotions. I was a mess.


But that was not the worst of it.


At my darkest point I started having dark thoughts; really dark thoughts.  The kind of thoughts that keep you awake at night and stuck to your bed in the morning. Poe’s little imp had made a home inside my mind and it seemed hellbent on driving me mental due to the nature of the thoughts it was providing me with. There’s no other way to say it than just saying it. So here goes.


I started thinking I was a paedophile.


AT THIS POINT PLEASE NOTE — I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE.


Night after night I lay awake being bombarded with images of me causing harm to kids. When I did go to sleep I dreamt about being caught for my imagined crimes. The pain I would have caused the child and the child’s family along with the pain I would cause my own family. My mum crying out loud in the courtroom viewing gallery as I am sentenced and sent down. The abuse she would suffer for being the mother of a ‘peedo.’ Coming home to find her windows smashed and graffiti on her front door. All of my friends and family left to wonder if I had ever caused their kids any harm in those moments when I was alone with their children. So obsessed did I become that I even changed my driving licence photo because I thought it looked a bit sinister and worried it would be used on the News and in Newspapers.


‘Sick bastard,’ I imagined workmen saying as they ate their lunch and read their newspapers. ’He bloody looks the type.’


I questioned myself constantly about why I was having these thoughts and what they meant about me? I could not spend anytime alone with kids because I was worried that the thoughts I was having might become too overwhelming and lead to some horrible action. I hated myself and did everything I could to not be around kids.

This avoidance of kids was futile though as good or bad, kids make up a large amount of our population. One day, a friend asked me if I could take her little boy to swimming club because she had to work late. My friend knew I had time off so there was no way I could refuse her unless I told her the truth.


“Swimming club? No can do sorry. Why? Well basically, I am having thoughts that tell me I am a paedophile. So if you don’t mind I’ll give it a miss thanks very much. Fancy a cup of tea?’


No chance.


That evening I picked my friend’s kid up from school and took him to the swimming pool. When I walked into the changing rooms I felt myself tightening up. My heart was pumping and sweat poured from my forehead. I was greeted by a sea of kids; some in trunks and swimsuits, some completely naked. There were several parents dotted around the rooms as well. My friend’s little boy found himself a cubicle and told me to wait outside so no one could barge in.


I stood at the door trying not to make eye contact with kids or parents. My mind was racing with horrible thoughts and I was convinced that somehow my thoughts would give me away to the other adults. I tried to make myself look as natural and as un-paedophile-like as possible but the more I tried not to look like a paedophile the more I imagined myself as some slavering old man with a greasy combover and crooked yellow teeth. I had an overwhelming feeling that the other adults could sense my thoughts. I started to panic and in my panic I decided to hide in a cubicle and wait it out.


I opened one door but there was a kid inside. I opened a second door; another kid, naked as a baby. I opened another door, two naked kids. Another door, and another but behind every door there was a naked child inside like I was opening the doors to a giant advent calendar designed for paedophiles. I became aware that I was just marching around the changing rooms opening doors on naked kids so in even more of a panic I paced out of the changing rooms and into the kid-free safety of the reception area where I pretty much had a full on anxiety attack.


That’s when I knew I had a problem.


The next day I made an appointment with my doctor.


JUST TO REITERATE — I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE.


The doctor was lovely. She sat quietly as I broke down and told her about the thoughts I was having. She did not judge me and more importantly, she did not call the police. She asked me how I felt when I had these thoughts?


'Disgusted,' I said. 'Horrified.'


She rubbed my arm and told me not to worry. She explained about unwanted thoughts and how they are a symptom of depression and anxiety. She told me that thoughts like this can manifest in a number of ways such as causing harm to oneself or causing harm to others either through physical or sexual violence.


'But the thoughts are about kids,' I said.


'Unwanted thoughts sometimes take the form of the worst thing that could happen in a given situation,' she said. 'That does not mean you will carry out those thoughts.'


'So I am not a paedophile?' I asked, wiping tears from my face.


She smiled at me. 'I do not think you are a paedophile,' she said. ‘Thoughts of this nature are more common than you might think. You are not alone.’


I have had some wonderful moments in my life. Diving with Great White Sharks, skydiving in Australia, horse trekking through the Rocky Mountains, and too many others to mention. But none of those moments will ever match how I felt when I walked out of the doctor’s surgery with a confirmation that I was not a paedophile. I was just a normal everyday Joe who was experiencing unwanted thoughts due to the depression that had taken over my mind. Despite being depressed and emotionally flat, right then I felt a flash of joy pass through me. If there had been a kid outside the surgery I might have picked him or her up and kissed them madly; probably not the best idea though considering the nature of my appointment.


JUST TO BE CLEAR — I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE.


One of the biggest mistakes I made when I was fully entrenched in Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts was trying to suppress them. Research has shown that the act of thought suppression will only lead to an increase of that particular thought. Think of it along the lines of one of those Splat the Rat games you see at fairgrounds. You hammer the rat down and it pops up somewhere else. You try to suppress a thought, up springs another one. The more you try not to think of something the harder it is not not think of that particular thing. Try for yourself. Spend one minute trying not to think of a polar bear. Tricky huh?


Psychologist Daniel Wegner devoted a whole study to what he called _The White Bear experiment. _Under controlled conditions, each candidate was asked to sit in a chair next to a table that had a bell placed on it. Each person was given five minutes and were told that under no circumstance were they to think of a white bear. Whenever the thought of a white bear came to mind the candidates were asked to ring the bell. The results as one might expect showed that the candidates were unable to not think of white bears, no matter how hard they tried to rid their minds of the thought.


The act of thought suppression will also lead to what psychologists refer to as _Metacognition. _Put simply, metacognition can be described as thinking about thinking. _Why am I thinking this thought. I must stop thinking about this thought. _When I was really under attack from Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts I found myself being sucked into a seemingly endless hole of thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking and so on and so on and so on and so on until I reached the point where I could not carry out the most basic of tasks.
I am happy to say that I am no longer at the mercy of Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts. No more than the rest of the 85% non-clinical population who may at some time in their life experience these type of thoughts. I can’t say that I am completely free of them though. Occasionally some bad thoughts  pop up, but rather than question them, or attach myself to them I simply let them pass through my mind like clouds in a breeze.


If I have learned anything about these types of thoughts it is this: Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts are not you. They are something that happens to you.


Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts had me believe that I am a paedophile. They have also at various points in my life tried to convince me I am a murderer, sexist, racist, thief, a liar, and pretty much any bad thing you could think of. I am not a paedophile, nor any of these other things. What I am is a human being and for whatever reason whether it be spiritual, biological, or evolutionary,  most human begins at some point in their lives will suffer from Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts.


JUST TO CONFIRM —- I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE.


I know this because when I watch the movie _Leon, _I don’t get turned on by nine year old Natalie Portman. Also, I have never once looked at a child like Sid James eyeing up a dolly bird in any one of the _Carry On _films. I have never once been turned on by a little girl in a ballerina outfit, or been aroused over a smudgy faced toddler as he licks a cornetto. The reason for this is simple.


I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE.


I really can’t say that enough.


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## Kepharel (Aug 12, 2015)

*Personal or Eccentric Presentation (Am I missing something?)
*
I’m really not sure what to make of this as an item for entry into a non fiction workshop. If it is about you then it might be better off in a WF blog but put in a more considered manner. As such, it is put to members to critique the post on its merits as ’Non-Fiction’.  If you wish it to stand as a piece of personal experience around your mindset it is far too visceral for my taste. It’s more like an exorcism of a troubled mind and too deeply personal for objective discussion.

Even if it is an unorthodox approach to discussing a piece on a mental illness such as psychosis the presentation requires any meaningful discussion to be left to trained psychologists/psychiatrists and is far too complex for anything meaningful I could say. You might well consider what point you are trying to get across and resubmit.


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## Jon M (Aug 12, 2015)

Has the potential to be an excellent personal essay. Already on its way, really. Thought the pedophile refrain was a humorous and thoughtful aspect of this essay's structure, functioning sort of as a desperate mental plea on behalf of the essayist, the incessant repetition a cheeky suggestion that he is perhaps not as reformed or cured as he thinks he is.

Maybe the refrain can be spaced a little more evenly throughout the text.

Text also glosses over some details, doesn't want to get itself dirty. Like the ultra-vague "causing harm to kids." Needs exploration, not tasteless, pornographic, or gratuitous, but exploration nonetheless. The essay almost visibly bristles at the notion, and too quickly moves onto relatively safer territory: consequences.

Really like how the ending reads like a non sequitur. He knows because a movie tells him so. But its placement causes doubt about this narrator's prognosis; it's a rather downbeat ending, really, because it leaves me wondering if he really is a pedophile. So I am a little confused; I'm not sure how I feel about this work in general because it seems to be sending mixed messages.


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## Ian8777 (Aug 13, 2015)

Hi there. Sorry for my absence. Work commitments and all that.

This piece of writing was never meant to be anything more than a brutally honest portrayal of an experience I had a few years ago. If I have posted it in the wrong section then you have my apologies. My intention was not to create any ambiguities so that the reader is left questioning the reliability of the narrator or the reliability of the piece. This is about me. Cold, hard stone truth. Isn't that what writing is supposed to be? 

Finding yourself in a very dark place where you are convinced you are a paedophile is something that I would not wish on anyone. Thankfully I am not a paedophile and this piece of writing was an attempt to bring light to this very dark frame of mind. Again, I just wanted to write something with brutal honesty.

I did try and inject a little humour into the piece to take the sting out of the tail. This is a true piece of writing. It's the most honest piece of writing I have ever undertaken. Please feel free to debate its literary merit, but literariness was not on my agenda when I wrote it. I just wanted to get it out and hopefully provide much needed information to anyone who may have experienced or be experiencing a similar situation. 

I have spent a lot of time reading about the psychological condition known as unwanted intrusive thoughts. Originally this essay began as just an informative piece about this condition. It was only as I progressed that I felt compelled to inject my own experiences into it. I am very happy with the piece. I can look at it and say I have not lied. I have told the truth. Maybe I could have told more truth and gone into the actual thoughts themselves and Jon M suggested. 

Anyway, I hope i have not ruffled anyone's feathers too much. I will say again, that this piece is about me being totally honest. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Cheers and thanks for taking the time. 

PS -- I really am not a paedophile.


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## Plasticweld (Aug 13, 2015)

If the piece is meant as a way to share a thought and you wish to do well, and have help with any of the prose, then it is in the right spot.

  As writers we should be looking at that as much as how did you address your topic and how it effects the reader.  The ability to express and share the deepest thoughts and worries that we may have, is arguably the most difficult task a writer ever has.  


I thought the pace and the tone of the writing really hit home; it comes across and seems well researched, also done in a honest almost brutal honesty.  I will leave to the more skilled wordsmiths the technical aspects of the piece but found this hard hitting and a good read. Bob


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## Saeria (Aug 13, 2015)

I think this piece may only be valuable for the "been there, done that" crowd, unfortunately, but believe me that does not leave it without merit. Intrusive thoughts seem to walk hand in hand with severe anxiety. I have my own imp that whispers I pushed my late husband to suicide with my cold words, with my failure to try as hard as I could to be supportive in spite of his terrible nature. I have spent the last 3 1/2 years secluded in my home because the imp has told everyone that sees me that I am a murder, that someone is going to find me and hurt me because of it. I have tacked my curtains closed and at one time I hid in the bathtub each time my doorbell rang. The worst part was that even knowing I am a murderer a secret deep part of me is so relieved he is finally gone. 
   I think it takes quite a bit of courage to air out the prevalent intrusive thoughts so publicly. As a piece that resonated with my own mental/emotional state I found it both intriguing and relate able. I personally believe any work describing an emotional maladaptation has a bit of poetic license. The stream of thoughts are meant to be a touch disjointed, perhaps redundant as seen with "I am not a Paedophile." Some subjects simply do not fit neatly in the strict algorithm typically used in Non-Fiction.


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## J Anfinson (Aug 14, 2015)

This thread has been edited to remove debating and personal comments. Keep the comments about the work, not the person, and remain on topic. This is the only warning that will be given.


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