Toony stuff connects me to bedrock of my soul and expresses things that resonate so deeply as true, meaningful, and worthwhile to me that it is how I explore and express to myself on a fundamental level. It is a core part of my spiritual growth because it’s a vehicle through which I drive around my soul and discover, then share.

My connection with Toons is impacted deeply by a traumatic experience across my childhood and life, and I’m sharing this journal in hopes to help others navigate the pain of their own trauma. I share it with hopes that my pain and insight, my mistakes, paint a better path for others to take a lesson or, if I’m lucky, an example from, and seek better for themselves. Especially when it comes to navigating the relationships of an online, artistic realm tied to kinks and sexuality.

So this is me:

As a child from the ages 4 to 7 I experienced prolonged CSA at the hands of my father and stepmother while living with them in Japan and then visiting. I grew up in wealth during that time with him because he worked for Boeing. While living with them, I was showered with gifts, technology, video games, toys, and I had tremendous access to knowledge and a unique landscape. I loved living in Japan. It was truly enchanting, and it helped me get by with how beautiful it really was to live there as a child.

At the age of 6 I was sent to go live with my mother, because my stepmother had her two children with her husband and was done with me and my sister. We were flung from wealth, intentional repeated child poisoning with alcohol, and frequent sexual assault to being impoverished in SoCal with our narcissistic, violent, and lying, drug addicted mother. Her boyfriend, becoming husband, was on steroids while I was growing up and he also became violent towards me as a result of that, my mother, and the misbehavior sprung out from my experiences.

Every year until the age of 15 my sister and I were sent back to Japan during the summer for a visit. The actual physical assault had ceased, as I recall, but my American dad still loved bathing with me up until I was a preteen, and he would bathe with my Japanese brothers as well. I recall my stepmother and father showing me pictures of myself, sleeping when I had visited. I was 13 years old, and I wasn't able to understand why they were giggling so much when showing me pictures of myself in my pajamas, grabbing my crotch while asleep. I sure as heck understand their malice and depth of their evil sickness now.

Every visit resulted in a reminder that we'd been replaced and were now inferior to their new children. Any problem with them, and we were immediately blamed. If there was a problem with them, and they wanted us to help. If they gave incentive to us in some way to make us be more enthusiastic, they would punish us for accepting the incentive because "We should've wanted to help to begin with". We were kids, it was fucked up of them.

While living with my mother's abuse, her behavior would also strike as violent and chaotic. And utterly neglectful. She would leave for weeks at a time, working at a casino and spending all of our money to do whatever. She was just off gaming and ignoring her children. I'm grateful, and lucky that I had my Grandmother there to actually provide loving support and a maternal presence in the home. When my mother did talk to me and it wasn't abusive, the focus was always about my father's wealth, and how graceful my mother is for not hammering him legally and making him pay inordinate amounts of child support. How he's so nice for sending me gifts and money.

It framed Love as materialistic and sexual for me. Her violent hatred towards me, combined with my father's only intimate interactions with me being sexually assaulted in bed or a bathtub, painted terrible delusions in my mind. My father never physically beat me. He raped me, but he never made me physically hurt. He never, outside of the assault, treated me with hatred and angry violence, or shouted with malice and disgust. So in my mind, I contextualized everything that my father had done to me in my life as "The Truest Expression of Love one can find."

And in order to make that belief of what "Love" is work within my mind, as a child, I forced myself to forget, and I stuck the memories into a spirit of myself, and then asked it to die...And naturally, it refused, and I'm ever so grateful for it. The experiences of dealing with my trauma have consequently left me a fractured sort of psyche. I'm plural, a system. I'm somewhere on the Schizotypal spectrum after my experiences and growth, and I live with a multiplicity of selves.

The trauma of what I went through with my father and mother, and being swapped between households and having to satisfy my stepmother and father, then go back to satisfying my mother and stepfather? To make it simple: I was constantly trapped in Survival Mode.

What Survival Mode combined with my growing experience of plurality as a child and teenager meant was: I had to learn to adapt in every situation. I was hyper aware and trying to make the most efficient decisions to survive and get through the day without having my soul obliterated by a traumatic interaction. And if i had a traumatic interaction, what would happen is:

That current psyche would disappear back into my soul to hide and repair itself. It was a mask of my true feelings I was wearing in order to survive, but it got DAMAGED. It wasn't the right one for the situation. So I would then choose a new mask, another one made out of genuine feelings of self, because it's all I really had as a child. I wasn't able to think beyond my awful feelings.

And I went through life surviving daily traumatic interactions, rotating between as many masks as possible in order to survive and stop myself from doing something clownly. Nowadays? Through alot of Mindfulness Meditation, and alot of experiences of TRUSTING, LOVING RELATIONSHIPS THAT AREN'T FOUNDED IN KINKS(but might involve them), I've learned how to center myself in a position between most of these spirits. Because masks, are actually just spirits of self, the way I perceive them. And I learn how to commune with myself, to speak with the emotional facets of my being and draw them towards my center. Though, sometimes I get pulled to them~ But at least, nowadays, I have a center I feel I can call myself towards.

I love everything about toony stuff, and it expresses something meaningful to me in a way that is sublimely important. It connects me to the way I feel at the bedrock of my soul, and empowers me to express the deepest of feelings and concepts through vehicles of concept that resonate as true, meaningful, and worthwhile to me. Toony expressions, like flattening, inflation, and etc, genuinely captures some of the most extremes of emotions that I contain within me.

It is how I explore and express on a fundamental level to myself, when it comes to interpreting my own spiritual movements and identifying the ways which I express and intimate to myself.

When sexuality gets involved in this process, however, there's a tremendous hang-up because of my experience surviving prolonged CSA under my father and frequent physical abuse from my narcissistic mother and stepfather. When POWER and agency get involved in kinks, that isn't me "liking" kinks and sexuality, in the traditional sense. I use sexuality and kinks combined as a tool to reclaim my own sexual power after my traumatic experiences. I never quite fully understood that about myself until truly finding myself in a physically, emotionally safe environment of love and connection. Before I was blessed with a real experience of love, the things I was doing with my kinks was just something which I knew made me feel SUPREMELY GOOD.

I could explain away the physicality of a kink scene and express to those why I enjoy the concepts, and how the power dynamics of a kink scene might get me excited in the past, but it wasn't a real connection to self that I could articulate. It was a ritual I performed to manage my own emotions, because the trauma of my childhood was something, as a child, I'd chosen to hide from myself and forget, but clearly couldn't...since I'm here talking about it.

So what does that mean?

It means that despite my best efforts to hide from myself, from the truth of my experiences, I could never stop myself from searching for the reminders and bringing myself back to the feelings which resonated with the truth of my lived experiences and their impact on my body, mind, and soul. Despite my best magic, the effort only made me MORE innately connected with the trauma of what had occurred, because I had to do a silly little dance all my life around it.

Boy am I good at dancing now, but I dance like a MAD MAN!

So what does THAT MEAN? Searching for reminders??
It sure as hell meant that I would admire and idolize anybody who gave me a hint that they liked the same stuff and carried the qualities that could reproduce my trauma. HOLY CRUD, THAT IS HORRIFIC. Nobody wants to meet somebody doing that!!! I'm sorry and ashamed that I've done this and probably still continue to do it in ways I haven't fully caught.

...But that's kinda what human nature is like, unfortunately, and I never intended to go about doing things like that. I've had to come to grips with the totality of my trauma I'd hidden from. The patterns of it are the reminders which I learned to seek in others. It brought me back to a feeling of home, playing kinky with others and never thinking about what's real. Only kinking to simply feel good, to get wooden and distracted.

So I allowed my trauma to guide me to recreate it with people who liked similar kinks and who reminded me of my abusers. And the disposition my trauma had left me in made me horrifically vulnerable to love-bombing, to fulfilling requests, to throw myself at the paws of others and draw for them their kinks. I just didn't want to be discarded and left alone, and hell yeah if I could be kept along for the ride while I got people to disrespect me in oh so familiar ways. I had a twisted mind while going about that business! I didn't know better!

So what does this mean about my art nowadays?
I'm fully embracing toony stuff. It is ALL. It's not just a kink to me. It really is ALL. It is the bedrock of my soul. I am a TOON, and I feel and mean that it in the PUREST of senses when it comes to being a TOON. An infinitely malleable, adaptable entity that is able to travel all the extremes of personal expression through the vehicle of pure identity of self without restraints placed on physicality, form, and global context, because Toons are truly in their own worlds, like cosmic entities of PURE EXPRESSION. I love toons, they are perfect expressions of life, and it's how I feel in my life, no matter my physical limitations.

Wow, really big and grandiose. But okay, I might dig it. Let's smack that grandiosity down with kinks now! How's that grandiosity and spiritual aspect actually interact and get along with the ways I explore and express the kink side of toons and horniness?

I'm just posing this question out here to make people ask it. I see absolutely no problems with taking such a grandiose position on how I feel about the nature of my soul, and no contradictions in how I utilize kinks and sexuality to help me reclaim sexual liberation over my soul after traumatic events. Perhaps the bigger question there is:

Should I even be sharing any of my sexual kink art if that's what I use it for, and it's connected to such trauma? Should I have EVER SHARED IT TO BEGIN WITH?

It took all of my experiences up to date to reclaim my soul and be able to articulate it as I can today. So I dunno~ Art is art, and people are going to take what they want out of it. I'm a little lost on the plot, I believe, on when it comes to figuring out how to navigate what should be shared and how and when. I just like to toss stuff out there.
I personally feel very awkward and weird about it, but I've also committed a little bit to just letting that insanity sit open and naked on the internet, after repeatedly deleting it and trying to hide the reminders of what happened to me~

What I can say plainly and clearly is my wishes, now that I've grown and gone through what I have. And perhaps those are the most valuable things to give.

I wish I'd never tried to hide from the truth of my experiences, even though, perhaps at the time as a child, it was the only thing keeping me alive. If I was a little more honest and courageous towards myself, perhaps I could've learned to embrace life, and all of it's loving pain and relationships, sooner. So what I really wish is to be more honest and courageous, for the sake of myself first, and consequently everyone else afterward.

I wish I'd never sought to fortify the patterns of familiarity in traumatic relationships with almost every friend I chose to cling to as an artist entering the kink community. I caused alot of chaos and confusion and heartache for others and myself doing this. If I was a little more willing to embrace loneliness, anxiety, and take my own initiative to change and seek better treatment, perhaps I could've experienced growth much sooner. So what I really wish is to be love affirming and seek to discourage ANY traumatic pattern compounding in my bonds.

I wish I'd never copied my mother's willingness to absolutely lose her shit at other people and express her pain as hatred and anger. I confused it for power and thought it a useful tool, because I was so terrified of her all my life for being beaten and shouted at. Now it's a terrible habit and an awful problem for others and myself, because of how sensitive I am after all my experiences. If I was a little more willing to sit with pain and trust others to talk to me about it, instead of taking it out on them, perhaps I could've stopped myself from hurting others and multiplying the pain and sorrow in the world. Now I have to constantly be on my toes against the beast I grew from momma trauma~ So what I really wish is to be able to hold MORE PAIN with MORE LOVE, and then find a way to GRIN with agony through it, and intend love. I haven’t hurt enough in this life, clearly~

I wish I'd never sought to transform myself into a useful person for others in the kink community, and that I always questioned what a person means as a form of friendly exploration of their being, rather than performing conversation and ritual in order to "Keep a relationship". The simplest and most innocent seeming of interactions are worth exploring with love and curiosity, because I've learned that if one only functions and flows with someone, then they certainly are nothing but a tool being used. Tools don't ask questions and get answers, they get used. If I was more courageous and willing to actively search for the self-respect and sincere connections with others I desperately needed all of my life, then perhaps I wouldn't have drawn hundreds of pictures for people who I no longer care for and have to choose to love as much of my history with, while also still knowing to keep a boundary up. So what I really wish is to have stand up for my self-respect, and to learn to ACTIVELY SEARCH FOR LOVE in my relationships, even something as simple as exploring a compliment with a question.

I wish I’d learned to seek what people really mean, and realize when they’re full of shit, lying, soulless, or simply immature. Especially to determine which kind of “Not my friend material” they are. Please, learn to seek love and self-respect and ASK for it. Anybody who won’t let you do this is worse than your enemy. I cannot stress this ENOUGH. This is the simplest wish. Seek love, seek self-respect, and understand it’s found in others and yourself, and if others won’t even allow you to seek it with them? Run away~ And if YOU won’t allow yourself to seek it? You better run to your most trusted friends until they slap you the fuck back into shape <3 And if you don’t got them? You better, at some point in your Life, wake and own the fuck up to the fact you deserve to seek love and self-respect.


To summarize my mistake:

“Lore of the Whore”

I whored myself around and now I feel all crashed out, haaaaa~!!!

So don't you do the same, boys, girls, and enbies.
Whoring yourself out isn't a place of envy~
Only kink respectfully with those that are truly friendly!
Everybody else ain't worth it, or your enemy <3

Author: [[Kincorax]] & [[Sabba Aganor]]
Emotion: [[Kinks]] & [[Loneliness & Socializing]] & [[Bonds & Observations]]

I’d like to end this journal with a much better poem, about the only positive blood-related parental figure in my life, my Lola(Grandmother in Tagalog), Erlinda, the true mother of my soul. Inspired by Tyler the Creator’s “Mother”.


Lola
Am I a good boy?
Did I make you proud?
Did I bring you joy?

Lola
I know that I've sinned
I've hurt you before
Again and again

Lola
Do you hear me pray?
The feelings I pass
When I feel you each day?

Lola
Can you understand?
My hate for your daughter
How she would abandon?

Lola
Can you ever forgive me?
How I hate mother and father
and leave them behind but take your spirit with me?

Lola
Did you really believe?
That I was grace of God
Or did I deceive?

Lola
Did you ever know?
The pain of my raping?
How it forced me to grow?

Lola
Would you see it now?
If you were alive
Would you choose to cower?

Lola
Would you give me grace?
Give me the strength
To find my own place?

Lola
I miss you each day
I wish I loved you more
Before you went away.

Author: [[Jeremy]]
Emotion: [[Family]]

Thanks for reading. Hope it helps, hope it’s absolutely terrifying to the rest of you, too. Because it certainly feels horrific to have gone through it and done as I have. So please, go on and grow hopefully.