O
Growing up, friendzoned by girls, being told I was a nice guy, getting bullied, and developing low confidence, I went to psychology for answers. It proposed that your problems are attributable to childhood trauma, particularly from parents and family. So, from adolesence onward, I held deep bitterness towards my parents for ‘not being there.’ If girls were saying ‘it’s about confidence and personality,’ it implied I lacked confidence and personality, and that if my parents ‘had only been there more,’ more confidence would have been ingrained in me, and I would have lived happily ever after.
After taking the black pill, I question all of that. A sufficient dive into black pill theory shows that personality is greatly influenced, perhaps even determined, by looks (height is perceived as confident, a normie face is perceived as ‘nice,’ and this is reinforced subconsciously).
I mean, yes, there are arguments that mothers don’t breastfeed enough time to instill the mewing habit in the infant, that parents don’t raise kids to play outside where they can get Vitamin D for their bones to grow, that parents give kids sugary cereal and ice cream instead of beef liver or fish eggs or some other ancestral food. But those things–I can’t fault parents for, because they couldn’t know all this–there were no such internet forums when they had me. They were doing what they could, with the money they had, with the time they had, and they had to put food on the table.
But for me, my allegation was more for, say, my father not teaching me to throw a basketball or just skipping mowing the lawn to have father-son time, things that could have happened but did not.
It just seems to me that there’s this trope, this theme, this meme in society that says: blame your parents. They weren’t there for you and that’s why you’re failing. Seek memories of your childhood trauma, resolve them, and your life will get in order. But in the process it seems to necessarily and logically involve disowning parents. This narrative is everywhere, in cartoons, in a music industry in which corporations wield outsized influence on what’s exposed to the masses, in movies, in cheesy self-help books, in self-improvement memes on social media. In a more, say, hypervigilant view (to put even that lightly) I wonder if this is a narrative being pushed to sow discord and divide the family, and to (further) isolate human beings.
If I was too clingy with girls, psychology proposed I didn’t get enough attention from my mother. If I was bullied by boys, it proposed I didn’t get enough attention from my father. Maybe I was simply too ugly, too short. And now everyday, more and more too old.
Because when I think about it, I had confidence, and a great personality–until the sexually competitive environment known as puberty began. To this day, I’m charismatic in dealing with seniors and with little kids. It’s the stuff in between where people react badly to me. It makes me suspect my social skills aren’t lacking; I just am not attractive in a environment where people are appraising each other on sexual characteristics.
I did a thought experiment of asking, ‘if I were a Chad and had no issues with girls merely based off my looks, would I be the unhappy, miserable person I am now?’ And all I can think is no–I’d probably be a lot happier. Of course, I can’t be sure, as I’m not living two lifetimes.
Some more logic: if black pillers here are similarly unhappy, and social failures are indeed caused by ‘absent parents,’ then one would expect everyone on this forum to have the same kinds of absent parents. Yet I’d wager to say that’s not the case–are there a lot of black pillers who still came from loving homes and families?
What it comes down to is, for all my lack of social success, how much guilt do we cast onto our parents’ shoulders? Ought we be bitter toward them, for not ‘being there' to impart in us confidence? Or should we be grateful, because despite the brutality and the cold-heartedness of the world at large, they gave their best chance, they woke up everyday to labor, they tried–with their own fears and frustrations and lack of resources–to get us alive?
Because if I’ve cast too great a guilt on my parents, then it will be my shoulders that will bear the weight.
After taking the black pill, I question all of that. A sufficient dive into black pill theory shows that personality is greatly influenced, perhaps even determined, by looks (height is perceived as confident, a normie face is perceived as ‘nice,’ and this is reinforced subconsciously).
I mean, yes, there are arguments that mothers don’t breastfeed enough time to instill the mewing habit in the infant, that parents don’t raise kids to play outside where they can get Vitamin D for their bones to grow, that parents give kids sugary cereal and ice cream instead of beef liver or fish eggs or some other ancestral food. But those things–I can’t fault parents for, because they couldn’t know all this–there were no such internet forums when they had me. They were doing what they could, with the money they had, with the time they had, and they had to put food on the table.
But for me, my allegation was more for, say, my father not teaching me to throw a basketball or just skipping mowing the lawn to have father-son time, things that could have happened but did not.
It just seems to me that there’s this trope, this theme, this meme in society that says: blame your parents. They weren’t there for you and that’s why you’re failing. Seek memories of your childhood trauma, resolve them, and your life will get in order. But in the process it seems to necessarily and logically involve disowning parents. This narrative is everywhere, in cartoons, in a music industry in which corporations wield outsized influence on what’s exposed to the masses, in movies, in cheesy self-help books, in self-improvement memes on social media. In a more, say, hypervigilant view (to put even that lightly) I wonder if this is a narrative being pushed to sow discord and divide the family, and to (further) isolate human beings.
If I was too clingy with girls, psychology proposed I didn’t get enough attention from my mother. If I was bullied by boys, it proposed I didn’t get enough attention from my father. Maybe I was simply too ugly, too short. And now everyday, more and more too old.
Because when I think about it, I had confidence, and a great personality–until the sexually competitive environment known as puberty began. To this day, I’m charismatic in dealing with seniors and with little kids. It’s the stuff in between where people react badly to me. It makes me suspect my social skills aren’t lacking; I just am not attractive in a environment where people are appraising each other on sexual characteristics.
I did a thought experiment of asking, ‘if I were a Chad and had no issues with girls merely based off my looks, would I be the unhappy, miserable person I am now?’ And all I can think is no–I’d probably be a lot happier. Of course, I can’t be sure, as I’m not living two lifetimes.
Some more logic: if black pillers here are similarly unhappy, and social failures are indeed caused by ‘absent parents,’ then one would expect everyone on this forum to have the same kinds of absent parents. Yet I’d wager to say that’s not the case–are there a lot of black pillers who still came from loving homes and families?
What it comes down to is, for all my lack of social success, how much guilt do we cast onto our parents’ shoulders? Ought we be bitter toward them, for not ‘being there' to impart in us confidence? Or should we be grateful, because despite the brutality and the cold-heartedness of the world at large, they gave their best chance, they woke up everyday to labor, they tried–with their own fears and frustrations and lack of resources–to get us alive?
Because if I’ve cast too great a guilt on my parents, then it will be my shoulders that will bear the weight.
makes you realize human interaction is mostly determined by looks firstly, then NTness or personality secondly.
