Metempsychosis, M.A. (8)

I was almost nineteen and my distrust towards pleasure was already well under way. The event only reinforced it and turned my wariness into steadfast abstinence, which, despite rather grotesque attempts to break it, for better or worse, continues to this day. Distrust is one way of calling it. It was a blend of downright fear, discomfort, reluctance and repulsion. I admit, something did not click.

Back then, I perceived sex chiefly as a frenzied tenderless ego trip, a one-sided display of power exerted on a vulnerable recipient who, more than often, didn't even wish to participate. I'm not entirely sure whether it had much to do with what is now called toxic masculinity. It was more like a surface layer of ego in general that I had been struggling with, the feral side of self that met with my resistance - not a gender. Why couldn't ego be trusted? Isn't it all we've got, all we are? Essentially, my answer was resounding NO – ego is neither all we have got nor all we are. There are also countless subtle links binding us together on both physiological and spiritual level, a complex supraliminal mycorrhizal network that continues far beyond death. We are what connects us, I thought - the threads of deep interaction between each other and our environment. Later on, I learned how to include, to accept pleasure as one of the threads, but it took me some time and painful reckoning.

Anton, a relatively successful entrepreneur to be, followed in his father's footsteps not only in terms of professional orientation but also in the ruthless treatment of his own as well as my intelligence. Soon after, I became his point of reference for everything he was disinterested in or disrespectful of, and this vast category, unfortunately, involved almost everything except money. If it's an intellectual or emotional pursuit carrying no palpable benefit, it's most likely to do with one of his older sister's arena of anachronistic fancies. 'She lives in the clouds and we must foot the bill' - the mantra invented by my father was replicated by Anton. Like father like son rings true.

Our fragile relationship had been irreparably damaged by an incident in which, one day, I quietly entered the house and caught Anton, at the time fifteen, in my room masturbating to my childhood photos. As soon as he saw me, he ran away leaving me completely stultified. The photos he was looking at weren't in any way provocative or explicit. They featured me sitting at the lake edge in my swimsuit, or standing on the edge of a path in South Tyrol during one of our summer hikes. At first silent and embarrassed, he avoided my gaze. He would step out of the room whenever I was around and didn't exchange a single word with me for months. While this bizarre tension mounted, I felt he grew to hate me for the humiliating intrusion - even though I have never mentioned it to anyone. He held it against me as an unforgivable crime I committed against his privacy. It was as if I didn't know enough already - as if I had to sneak in without knocking (the room was mine but that's clearly an irrelevant detail), step into his inner world and discover his deeply held desires or perhaps his peculiar way of demonstrating dominion over his siblings. I have become an uncomfortable witness that should be disposed of, eliminated, sent to a remote island or the mountains and forgotten about. He most likely held me responsible for later difficulties in his intimate life - in finding a long-term partner. He gradually became overtly misogynistic, which is quite baffling considering he has never regarded me as a fully-fledged woman... To him, as well as to my parents, I was an impostor, an unfortunate blend of qualities that are too vague to judge as a finished product. Mother and Agnes were on the list alright; they were proper, finished products bearing children (a product capable of delivering other products is particularly useful - just like money that makes itself), having relationships with men, putting up with their ideas no matter what - a female is a female, not some kind of dysfunctional mutant who only seems to be one. He always suspected me of conspiring against him and telling his younger sister and mother about the episode; he loathed me for allegedly mocking him behind his back, something he often did towards me with his neighbourhood pals. Let it be clear once and for all, I have never done it nor intend to. Breaking of the thread connecting me with my brother affected me deeply and instead of getting inexplicably vicious as he did, I had to deal with the consequences - explain them to myself. Initially, I became even more shy and withdrawn - I felt this was also a particularly bad timing, just as I begun attending University. Until I broke the spell and forced myself to frequent swimming venues again, I had an issue with remaining undressed in front of others, particularly when I noticed their gaze shifting towards me. That gaze... It robbed me of my sense of security even when I was left on my own, in my so called own room, where one is supposed to be free from any unwelcome intrusions.

© 2023