everyone has it in them to be sadistic, if pushed far enough. this is not at all limited to infjs. the scariest thing about infjs is how totally you can lose their trust, the other types (except maybe intjs) tend to forgive and forget more easily.
INFJ's are Sadistic!
- Thread starter Chessie
- Start date
^^I agree with this. To me, this "mental breakdown" and "losing utter emotional control" (I'm paraphrasing) sounds a LOT like grief. Pure, uninhibited grief. Sure, it may be cathartic to totally lose yourself, but in my experience, these instances are never enjoyable for the person involved... and I can't imagine ever trying to artificially recreate something as powerful and mind-altering as grief/loss-of-self-control. True emotions like that can't be drawn out whenever somebody has the inclination to try. I don't think that's how it works.. as arbygil says "the revelation must come from the individual". Emotions are personal things.. and playing with them in the way I think people are talking about playing with them to me seems... well, just awful.
Also, I can't say that I'm really surprised that this thread focused on the sexual nature of "sadism"... but when I read the initial post, that isn't really what I got from it... Sure I've had what people are calling "aggressive thoughts" and I've even played out some rather violent scenarios in my mind... and this tendency to imagine even the most unlikely may be a characteristic of INFJ... but I think we're right to keep these ideas in check. Repression is a terrible thing, but sometimes it's enough to just have these ideas and realize that they are practically and morally wrong. And if an outlet IS needed, then to each his own---I think it'd be good for us all to remember that.
I do not believe most people or even most INFJs have a deep seated desire to see people in pain, inflict pain, or experience pain.. What does sadism even have to do with the mbti? Mentally unstable people are sadistic. People who get off on pain and watching others in pain seem to me to be a tad off. And I'm generally a tolerant person but I draw the line at that kind of thing.
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I could probably write a book on the subject. I'm a functioning sexual sadist, bordering on the severe. Sexual sadism is a misnomer, I think, because it makes it about the expression, rather than the root. It should be called sexual power fixation. The complete domination over another person is what I see as the essence of the sadistic drive. Forcing someone to suffer for me is an expression is of the desire, but not the desire itself.
And then again, it's not as simple as that. There are many aspects, many facets, many subtle nuances and interconnected drives and desires. Sexuality is in general an expression of our individuality, so no two are ever exactly alike. There is only one person that knows the full extend of my internal cellar, the place I keep for my most sadistic fantasies. I go a lot further in my fantasies than I am willing to in real life, but because being a subject to all that I am she had the right to know what she was going to get into beforehand.
And I go pretty far in real life as it is. I wrote a terrible, terrible, terrible poem about it once. I know that it is absolutly awful (and accept no statement to the contrary), and I felt little to no inspiration when writing it. But it fits the subject. I am sorry for sharing it
The Beast Within, it bares it teeth inside its prison. It pulls its chain, it growls in hunger and I listen.
In dreams and visions it is free to roam. It's claws extended, eyes of blood, scent of danger, mouth of foam.
There are screams and there is rape. A thousand dreams, within the cellar of my soul, innocence now meets its fate.
The Beast Within must stay confined. Behold the monster! There is no redemption for the wicked or the weak if it is unleashed and left to dine.
The realization of a craving for predation sparks a war within. Fear and loathing. Clothing of a sheep, from glancing stares with silence I disguise my sin.
Years go by, one night the watchman drinks and it escapes its keep. My gentle nature falls away and fangs that long now bared, my ladies throat so full of life, they dig in deep.
I choke, I spank, I penetrate a mind, I fuck and I degrade. Your soul is desecrate, and mine, it's changed. Cold as ice, hard as rock, I fly free, I feel home. This is fate.
But waking my memory is blocked. Thinking back there is a blur, images, flashes bright of darkness, and then as I am told of deeds in reverence, a shock.
NO! Never would I let the monster within burst forth with all its rage. How did it escape from the confinement of the self, the torture of my cage?
Oppressed again demanding it remains, and fierce. Through the crack in the veneer it is lending me a growl, a taste. Among its gifts, now mine, are eyes that pierce.
I let it dine again and months go by. The war is over, all sides win, relief of self as I begin to lift my cellar in the embracing of my sin.
The Beast Within is not a monster I can't trust. Though something primal it's a teacher, a Master of dark and honest canine lust.
In love my sight is twofold, that of warmth and that of ice. In passion my teeth are bared, in demand of sacrifice.
Power overwhelming, craving, love and pain, all seem now the same. A balance and a peace I never knew, and it is safe.
Come to me my slave.
And then again, it's not as simple as that. There are many aspects, many facets, many subtle nuances and interconnected drives and desires. Sexuality is in general an expression of our individuality, so no two are ever exactly alike. There is only one person that knows the full extend of my internal cellar, the place I keep for my most sadistic fantasies. I go a lot further in my fantasies than I am willing to in real life, but because being a subject to all that I am she had the right to know what she was going to get into beforehand.
And I go pretty far in real life as it is. I wrote a terrible, terrible, terrible poem about it once. I know that it is absolutly awful (and accept no statement to the contrary), and I felt little to no inspiration when writing it. But it fits the subject. I am sorry for sharing it
The Beast Within, it bares it teeth inside its prison. It pulls its chain, it growls in hunger and I listen.
In dreams and visions it is free to roam. It's claws extended, eyes of blood, scent of danger, mouth of foam.
There are screams and there is rape. A thousand dreams, within the cellar of my soul, innocence now meets its fate.
The Beast Within must stay confined. Behold the monster! There is no redemption for the wicked or the weak if it is unleashed and left to dine.
The realization of a craving for predation sparks a war within. Fear and loathing. Clothing of a sheep, from glancing stares with silence I disguise my sin.
Years go by, one night the watchman drinks and it escapes its keep. My gentle nature falls away and fangs that long now bared, my ladies throat so full of life, they dig in deep.
I choke, I spank, I penetrate a mind, I fuck and I degrade. Your soul is desecrate, and mine, it's changed. Cold as ice, hard as rock, I fly free, I feel home. This is fate.
But waking my memory is blocked. Thinking back there is a blur, images, flashes bright of darkness, and then as I am told of deeds in reverence, a shock.
NO! Never would I let the monster within burst forth with all its rage. How did it escape from the confinement of the self, the torture of my cage?
Oppressed again demanding it remains, and fierce. Through the crack in the veneer it is lending me a growl, a taste. Among its gifts, now mine, are eyes that pierce.
I let it dine again and months go by. The war is over, all sides win, relief of self as I begin to lift my cellar in the embracing of my sin.
The Beast Within is not a monster I can't trust. Though something primal it's a teacher, a Master of dark and honest canine lust.
In love my sight is twofold, that of warmth and that of ice. In passion my teeth are bared, in demand of sacrifice.
Power overwhelming, craving, love and pain, all seem now the same. A balance and a peace I never knew, and it is safe.
Come to me my slave.
Huh?
I forgive because holding a grudge is petty.
Is it easy? no.
I don't forget because I'm not stupid.
Just sayin'
-Your friendly neighborhood ENTP
That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange aeons even page 2 threads may die.
That time has yet not come.
So take a seat and lets have some fun.
Popcorn?
i'm not sadistic exactly, i just want to rip your head off with my teeth, but as quickly as possible, so i can get to your brains sooner rather than later. i don't really care about your pain one way or the other.
*readied shotgun*
DIE ZOMBIES DIE
Ahem.
Sadist?
hmm...Abilities and willingness aside, I don't know if I will enjoy being it. :|
I could probably write a book on the subject. I'm a functioning sexual sadist, bordering on the severe. Sexual sadism is a misnomer, I think, because it makes it about the expression, rather than the root. It should be called sexual power fixation. The complete domination over another person is what I see as the essence of the sadistic drive. Forcing someone to suffer for me is an expression is of the desire, but not the desire itself.
And then again, it's not as simple as that. There are many aspects, many facets, many subtle nuances and interconnected drives and desires. Sexuality is in general an expression of our individuality, so no two are ever exactly alike. There is only one person that knows the full extend of my internal cellar, the place I keep for my most sadistic fantasies. I go a lot further in my fantasies than I am willing to in real life, but because being a subject to all that I am she had the right to know what she was going to get into beforehand.
And I go pretty far in real life as it is. I wrote a terrible, terrible, terrible poem about it once. I know that it is absolutly awful (and accept no statement to the contrary), and I felt little to no inspiration when writing it. But it fits the subject. I am sorry for sharing it
The Beast Within, it bares it teeth inside its prison. It pulls its chain, it growls in hunger and I listen.
In dreams and visions it is free to roam. It's claws extended, eyes of blood, scent of danger, mouth of foam.
There are screams and there is rape. A thousand dreams, within the cellar of my soul, innocence now meets its fate.
The Beast Within must stay confined. Behold the monster! There is no redemption for the wicked or the weak if it is unleashed and left to dine.
The realization of a craving for predation sparks a war within. Fear and loathing. Clothing of a sheep, from glancing stares with silence I disguise my sin.
Years go by, one night the watchman drinks and it escapes its keep. My gentle nature falls away and fangs that long now bared, my ladies throat so full of life, they dig in deep.
I choke, I spank, I penetrate a mind, I fuck and I degrade. Your soul is desecrate, and mine, it's changed. Cold as ice, hard as rock, I fly free, I feel home. This is fate.
But waking my memory is blocked. Thinking back there is a blur, images, flashes bright of darkness, and then as I am told of deeds in reverence, a shock.
NO! Never would I let the monster within burst forth with all its rage. How did it escape from the confinement of the self, the torture of my cage?
Oppressed again demanding it remains, and fierce. Through the crack in the veneer it is lending me a growl, a taste. Among its gifts, now mine, are eyes that pierce.
I let it dine again and months go by. The war is over, all sides win, relief of self as I begin to lift my cellar in the embracing of my sin.
The Beast Within is not a monster I can't trust. Though something primal it's a teacher, a Master of dark and honest canine lust.
In love my sight is twofold, that of warmth and that of ice. In passion my teeth are bared, in demand of sacrifice.
Power overwhelming, craving, love and pain, all seem now the same. A balance and a peace I never knew, and it is safe.
Come to me my slave.
This took some courage on your part to share this - and I admire courage.
I am truly sorry you have this beast caged within you.
This took some courage on your part to share this - and I admire courage.
I am truly sorry you have this beast caged within you.
There is no need to be. While it wasn't easy finding a balance I could live with, it's a part of me. It always has been, and I'm glad for it.
Have you ever actually really hurt someone? Have you ever done it to someone who wasn't consenting?I could probably write a book on the subject. I'm a functioning sexual sadist, bordering on the severe. Sexual sadism is a misnomer, I think, because it makes it about the expression, rather than the root. It should be called sexual power fixation. The complete domination over another person is what I see as the essence of the sadistic drive. Forcing someone to suffer for me is an expression is of the desire, but not the desire itself.
And then again, it's not as simple as that. There are many aspects, many facets, many subtle nuances and interconnected drives and desires. Sexuality is in general an expression of our individuality, so no two are ever exactly alike. There is only one person that knows the full extend of my internal cellar, the place I keep for my most sadistic fantasies. I go a lot further in my fantasies than I am willing to in real life, but because being a subject to all that I am she had the right to know what she was going to get into beforehand.
And I go pretty far in real life as it is. I wrote a terrible, terrible, terrible poem about it once. I know that it is absolutly awful (and accept no statement to the contrary), and I felt little to no inspiration when writing it. But it fits the subject. I am sorry for sharing it
The Beast Within, it bares it teeth inside its prison. It pulls its chain, it growls in hunger and I listen.
In dreams and visions it is free to roam. It's claws extended, eyes of blood, scent of danger, mouth of foam.
There are screams and there is rape. A thousand dreams, within the cellar of my soul, innocence now meets its fate.
The Beast Within must stay confined. Behold the monster! There is no redemption for the wicked or the weak if it is unleashed and left to dine.
The realization of a craving for predation sparks a war within. Fear and loathing. Clothing of a sheep, from glancing stares with silence I disguise my sin.
Years go by, one night the watchman drinks and it escapes its keep. My gentle nature falls away and fangs that long now bared, my ladies throat so full of life, they dig in deep.
I choke, I spank, I penetrate a mind, I fuck and I degrade. Your soul is desecrate, and mine, it's changed. Cold as ice, hard as rock, I fly free, I feel home. This is fate.
But waking my memory is blocked. Thinking back there is a blur, images, flashes bright of darkness, and then as I am told of deeds in reverence, a shock.
NO! Never would I let the monster within burst forth with all its rage. How did it escape from the confinement of the self, the torture of my cage?
Oppressed again demanding it remains, and fierce. Through the crack in the veneer it is lending me a growl, a taste. Among its gifts, now mine, are eyes that pierce.
I let it dine again and months go by. The war is over, all sides win, relief of self as I begin to lift my cellar in the embracing of my sin.
The Beast Within is not a monster I can't trust. Though something primal it's a teacher, a Master of dark and honest canine lust.
In love my sight is twofold, that of warmth and that of ice. In passion my teeth are bared, in demand of sacrifice.
Power overwhelming, craving, love and pain, all seem now the same. A balance and a peace I never knew, and it is safe.
Come to me my slave.
You liken it to a beast, have you ever lost control? Where do you think the desire comes from?
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Yes to all your questions.
I distinguish between hurt and harm. Have I hurt someone? Oh yes. Have I harmed someone? Yes. Have I done it on purpose knowing full well what I was doing? Yes. Was consent always part of the equation? No. But I think those question would be answered by most people in the same way and doesn't make me in any way special. Especially when we are talking about teenagers.
Non consensual harm would include for me making a break up as painful as possible.
Have I lost control? Yes. Most almost always it involved me being cornered, and then it was a measure of defense. A shield, emotionally, and a method of assertion through mental or physical violence. I would find myself in that mindspace. What I would later call topspace, or "baring my fangs". Being aware of it makes all the difference. I have found behavoir patterns of mine that cause hurt or harm and ended them. This has gone so far that I have even found myself refusing to say certain things if I think they assert my will over someone else without their consent.
Where I think it comes from. The primal entity of the id given will and shape. It's deep enough to be part of the core where causality breaks down. What caused it, nobody knows for sure. Lots of theories, very little data that shows a common thread. It's kind of like asking someone what caused them to become gay.
A desire for authenticity is a definite trigger for my more sadistic tendencies, though.
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[MENTION=3156]Urtehnoes[/MENTION]
There isn't a problem anymore.
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I just ended a relationship with a person who has since gone well out of their way to make my life unpleasant. I managed to get rid of them only by cutting them off utterly. Brutal thing.
That scares me. I'm sorry, but I don't understand it and it scares me. I can't identify with a primal entity that wants to harm/hurt/violate others.
I have a hunch that comparing the mystery of it to being gay is comparing apples and oranges.
I read what you say and it sounds to me like you've been really hurt. It sounds like more of a reactive thing than something natural to your character.
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Most people can relate to wanting to hurt/harm/violate someone but are deeply unaware of the violence of their own personalities. I think that all too often it is people who embrace the violent sides of themselves are some of the most truthworthy persons I know. If you know your own violence then you can control it.
A man who doesn't know how violent he can be, when he's pushed far enough, can simply snap and kill someone. It happens every year plenty of times. People who deny violence the most loudly in private become the most vicious of monsters in public. Take mob-mentality in so called 'peace religions' or the unspeakable acts against women and children. These people live constantly fighting themselves. It's the very idea of sin. They must never let their inner monster out.
That monster needs to be let out sometimes. It feeds on fear, repressed anger, hatred, prejudice, and isolation. You let it out and connect it with the world, make it stand in the light and hold onto it's leash and you keep it small and controlled and in your hands rather than the hands of people who would turn you to violence. Pundits, generals, soldiers, policemen, preachers...they live off the monsters inside people being held down and kept quiet. They fear it when the monster, which is also passion and anger and strength...comes out.
A man who doesn't know how violent he can be, when he's pushed far enough, can simply snap and kill someone. It happens every year plenty of times. People who deny violence the most loudly in private become the most vicious of monsters in public. Take mob-mentality in so called 'peace religions' or the unspeakable acts against women and children. These people live constantly fighting themselves. It's the very idea of sin. They must never let their inner monster out.
That monster needs to be let out sometimes. It feeds on fear, repressed anger, hatred, prejudice, and isolation. You let it out and connect it with the world, make it stand in the light and hold onto it's leash and you keep it small and controlled and in your hands rather than the hands of people who would turn you to violence. Pundits, generals, soldiers, policemen, preachers...they live off the monsters inside people being held down and kept quiet. They fear it when the monster, which is also passion and anger and strength...comes out.
Where do you draw the line between having an innate destrudo, and the enjoyment in inflicting pain? I think the two are different.