20 People Reveal Deeply Disturbing Secrets About Themselves
We’ve taken some of the best answers from this reddit thread asking, “What is a scary, unsettling fact about you?” and posted them below. Predominantly answered by people who have been through something significant in their lives which left a mark either physically or mentally, the responses received are dark or deeply disturbing. But they also give an insight in to the human brain and its capacity to deal with such situations where life is not always a bed of roses.
More info: Reddit
I have unusually good night vision, extra cones/rods (I forget which is for low light) which means I walk around in what other people consider complete darkness, able to see just fine. Add onto that I’m 6’10” and very large, basically a cryptid
I have 2 lenses in my right eye, so it focuses like binoculars. My doctor wrote a paper about it. Mostly blinded as a baby in my left eye. Dr suspected my right lense split then healed as 2 distinct lenses. Better than 20/20 in my right eye.
I’m one of the lucky few with the CCR5-delta-32 mutation. Why is that relevant? It makes me immune to HIV and a handful of other pathogens, most notably the Bubonic Plague.
Image source: SursumCorda-NJ
I had 6 toes on each foot at birth and got them cut off you can see the place they cut them at.
Image source: Ghostrider_119
A random guy in a bar bit part of my ear off.
I’ve ripped a mans ear off with my teeth.
Context: Self-defence. The ear rips off the head like paper wear your earmuffs out you never know who’s hungry
i can walk in a backbend. it looks demonic
i can do it cuz i have EDS and my connective tissue is basically shreaded chicken
oh and i can pop joints out of socket with little pain
I put my dad out of his misery when he was on his death bed. I overdosed him with his painkillers and he died an hour later.
Less scary and more shocking, but when I was 9 years old I survived a home invasion where I was [injured] 6 times. I played dead on the floor until the man left and called 911 and in my adrenaline rush I thought they couldn’t find my house so I crawled with my left are swinging the wrong way and my right leg limp from nerve damage, all the way to the front door when he broke in from the back of the house.
I lived with only my mother who unfortunately didn’t survive. I vividly remember picking out the guy in a photo line up while recovering in the ICU.
I am very lucky to have kept my left arm, I have 32 pins and screws to make up for my shattered elbow. My left leg has permanent nerve damage and I now have “drop foot”. Despite my physical injuries and PTSD, I am doing very well.
I sometimes smile and laugh at tragic news/events, especially if I see someone else crying and/or is the barer of bad news.
I hate it, however I think I understand why it happens, it’s some sort of trauma defense mechanism because someone is expecting me to feel saddened and to frown.
I am a very friendly/nice/happy person trapped in the body of a dull, slow person.
I have bipolar 2, depression, anxiety, adhd, and fibromyalgia. I have had so many different medications over the course of my life that it has literally ruined my brain. Most of my life I have been very friendly and made friends easily enough. Over the last ten years I have been trying to get my various ailments under control using tons of different mediations and mental health treatments. Now I struggle greatly to show any emotion other than a stoic demeanor. I don’t laugh often (usually only when I am stoned), I will just call things out as funny and remain straight faced. My memory and cognitive function are compromised. It’s a f*****g nightmare to be a completely different person in your head.
This is a weird one but I promise you, no b******t.
I had a metal screw/bolt roughly an inch and a half long stuck in my right lung from age 2-17. I must have put it in my mouth as a toddler and it got in got there somehow.
Anyway, The unsettling bit is that I always knew there was something seriously wrong with my body, because my whole life I would have instances in which I coughed uncontrollably, many times coughing up blood. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. But I never told anyone. Dad was neglectful and mom was always working, so it was relatively easy to hide. If it happened at school I’d excuse myself to the restroom until it stopped. No one ever showed concern those 15 years so I guess I kept it to myself well enough.
I never told anyone, because even as a small child I was very unhappy with life and wanted it to be over. I guess I figured my mystery illness would get me eventually, so I kept it a secret so I wouldn’t get treated.
It all came to a head at 17 when playing ball at the park with my parents, siblings, and some friends. I got a decent hit and ran around the bases when I started coughing. After sitting back down I tried to hold it in but I couldn’t… and this time it was too bloody to hide and no bathroom to go to. So my step uncle noticed after a minute or two, everyone is crowded around me while I’m coughing up a s***load of blood in and around a trash can. My little brother told me after that they actually sent guys in hazmat suits to clean it up because they didn’t know if whatever was wrong with me was contagious.
But anyway, got to the hospital got the X-ray which showed the screw lit up like Christmas imposed over my rib cage. Doctor guy just went “Well there’s your problem!” I guess he was trying to lighten the mood since everyone was understandably freaking the f**k out.
Two weeks of surgery, three total, and it was out. I still have breathing issues, but the cough is gone now. I made the screw into a necklace which I wear sometimes because I find it oddly comforting to be reminded of my own mortality. I know that’s weird but it’s just sort of how I am all things considered.
I never told my family I knew there was something wrong with me, because telling them would mean admitting to them that I wanted to die the whole time.
I still struggle with mental health c**p for this and many, many other reasons I won’t get into, but things are a lot easier than they used to be.
But anyway, if you actually took the time to read about my weird little life I appreciate your time and hope your day is pleasant.
That I woke up in the middle of surgery and threw a mayo pan at a nurse before they pinned me back down and upped my dosage of sedatives. Key note still had retracters in so I briefly looked like a dead space enemy.
Have spotty memory of it. Sedation is very hit and miss with me. Has happened three times. Once during surgery, once during a nerve burn (never went out just paralyzed for about 3 minutes then started speaking during the procedure), the last was during colonoscopy (seriously painful and asked the doctor if he was an old scout leader he was laughing then asked the nurse if I was within range for another dose of sedative)
I do not actually remember a decent chunk of my life, whenever I talk about most of my childhood I use words that leave room for mistakes and am generally using memories and ideas I’ve compiled from hearing other people say things about me.
There is actually a large chunks of facts about myself that I only think I know, and don’t have personal confirmation of.
My daughter was an accident. I was planning on ghosting the guy and both our families and moving to a state where abortion was legal. The only reason I didn’t is because he came home from work early and saw me crying with the pregnancy tests next to me. We’re married now, though.
But, I would’ve OD’d on pills again if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. I got clean the second I found out. She’s the absolute light of my life and the only thing that keeps me alive every day.
Image source: -pickled-radish-
I inherited a lot of money from my grandmother about 2 years ago that no one in my family knew existed. I still don’t know where it came from, her lawyer wouldn’t tell me, but it’s in the upper 7 figures.
My father, her son, got the flat she owned and we all thought that was everything she had. Apparently it wasn’t but I havent told anyone about it and I dont plan on doing so either.
I just work a normal 8-5 desk job, rent a flat downtown of the City i live in (nothing expensive) and live a normal life on my own. No partner or children, no expensive vacations, I don’t even have a car lol.
I just don’t feel comfortable sharing this secret and the longer I keep it the stranger it would get telling it.
TLDR: I’m a millionaire because my grandmother died and no one knows about it.
Edit: I’m trying to answer to as many people as possible but as I said I still have a normal job so here are the answers to the most asked questions/Suggestions.
1. What do you want to do with the money?
I dont know yet, for now its safe where it is and I will either use it or invest it once I think its time. Maybe in a week, maybe never.
2. Can you give me X amount of money?
No, it wouldnt be fair to give it to one person and deny it another. I also dont really care about your tragic stories in my DMs, I read them and just get depressed so please dont.
3. Can I be “in your life”?
No I also dont want to adopt you/get to know you or be in a relationship with you (except for big tiddie goth GFs)
4. You have to invest in bitcoin/real estate/stocks/your friendly neighbourhood pyramid scheme!
No, f**k off.
I know most of you are genuine, nice people but I dont want your advice.
If this makes me sound like a douche I’m fine with that, it’s just a lot right now.
Thanks for coming to my TED talk.
Image source: crudito2601
I take a shower with socks on ever so often.
Image source: _baby_ruth_
I can turn my emotions off to any situation if I choose too and basically be in a state of blankness. Doesn’t matter how sad or bad it is. Therapist said it’s a defense mechanism from a messed up childhood.
I don’t usually experience grief when someone dies, unless the death was particularly tragic somehow (really young, suicide, etc.)
It’s not that I don’t love them, I just accept death as a part of life. It’s something that happens and it’s not something to wallow in for so long.
Image source: medievalistbooknerd
Since I was very young (age 9 or 10 I think), I’ve had thoughts that I was going to die young. The older I got, the age 24 just kept reoccurring. I’ll be 24 in a few months. I have appointments for neurologists for a suspected brain tumor coming up. Nothing is certain or set but this all feels very weird.