My Friend Dahmer

One of my favorite movies that I’ve seen over the last year is “My Friend Dahmer”. It’s a movie based on the graphic novel of the same name written by one of Jeffery Dahmer’s childhood friends, John Backderf, which instead of being a gory, murder-filled film, was actually an even more horrific look into how the world failed the young Dahmer, ignoring countless warning signs and allowing his attention to hyper-focus on his anti-social activities. Though it is one of my favorites as of late, I always find myself sobbing at the end of it. Not because it has a sad ending, but because of the dark places my brain has been at my lowest point in my life. 

I’ve always loved crime shows, murder docs, thrillers, mysteries, horror movies...the list goes on and on. But one thing I’ve always been fascinated by are serial killers. Serial killers in recent years have kind of become the new, fun hobby for stay at home moms to get in on. There are more docs and shows on some of the more famous ones then people know what to do with. I think people are a little too desensitized to the shit that they’re watching considering it seems to be the norm for a bunch of Karens to be sitting around, sipping Starbucks in their Lululemon workout clothes which have never actually been worked out in, chatting about their “favorite” serial killers. It’s a little weird to me to be honest. I don’t think these people should be enamored for their actions. And definitely not by pushy white ladies from the midwest who jump down your throat on Poshmark for a piece of cat hair you missed when selling them a used item as they’re on their way to pick up their 3 kids - Aiden (12), Jayden (10), and Brayden (4) - from their schools or soccer practices where everyone gets a participation trophy because it’s what Jesus would have wanted. It’s kind of a sickening place society has entered, and in a way, I feel it to be more sickening than the actual crimes that have been committed by these serial killers, as these women lap up the gore and terror like newly rescued kittens getting their first taste of warm milk. It makes me beyond uncomfortable. 

But I’ve spent many hours and time researching and learning about many different serial killers. A serial killer by definiton is a person who commits multiple (more than two) murders, especially similar ones with no obvious motive over a period of time with a "cooling-off" period between each murder. So even though we like to think of the Jefferey Dahmers and Ed Geins of the world, a majority of the ones you can read about, aren’t that interesting. I mean sometimes, people get categorized as a serial killer based on this definition, when in reality, they’re just a mean spirited prick who got into one too many drunken bar fights or God knows what. But there are those people, like Dahmer, who kill to fill a void, a need in their souls. Much like a craving for a Big Mac and a Coke, it's an itch that needs to be scratched or else it just keeps scratching at them until it’s all they can hear. 

Why do I find myself crying uncontrollably everytime I watch “My Friend Dahmer”? I see a lot of myself in his pains as a kid in high school. A want and a need for human connection, and struggling to find out how to achieve that. I’m a very personable person because alcohol has taught me to be. But that’s never been me in actuality. Alcohol created my adult personality, so even without booze, it’s who I grew up to be. Alcohol is a funny thing like that for certain people. That’s why it’s so dangerous. It allowed me to slow down the world and accept it in my own mind. It’s a calming pool, warm and nurturing, when used in the right way. You know, before you fall off the cliff. 

In the film (definitely check it out if you haven’t seen it, and I’m sorry to those who are reading and haven’t seen it), we get a look into what makes a high school-aged Jeffery Dahmer, transform into the serial killer everyone knows today. There are a handful of different elements that create this kind of perfect storm in this kid, and that’s why I think the film is so important. Because people just view serial killers as these beastly, inept, creepos who just couldn’t figure it - meaning life -  the fuck out. And sometimes, that is the case, but in other times, there’s a lot more depth, and a lot of instances where a simple interjection or change of situation might’ve not tipped the scale in favor of committing mass murder. Because as we all know now, it’s not about the murder at all. Rather, the other elements that surround it. The reasoning, the sexual angle, the trophies, the connection to past trauma, and so on. It’s the depth that interests me, because it means that things could’ve turned out differently. Turned out differently, if people were more aware and perceptive, and dare I say, mindful. 

One angle we see right off the bat, is the parental situation faced in the Dahmer household. And kids are kind of a touchy subject for my generation, so I don’t really mean to get into this, but it’s my blog and I’m going to do what I want. I love that I’m writing a post about serial killer tendencies and I’m apologizing to my audience about my thoughts on children. Anyway, I digress. Now, in the movie, Dahmer’s dad, he’s a lab rat. Obviously very smart, but buries himself in his work, and that’s how he finds comfort in the world around him. Science and research and tests. Dahmer’s mom is, well, she’s a fucking nut job. Throughout the movie, you see her crazies come out here and there, whether it’s a mention of the hospital or the doctors, or her fumbling around with pills, or her doting on her youngest child, while simultaneously separating herself from her oldest son, unless he compliments her and feeds her crazies’ ego. She’ll manically buy a car, or hire an interior decorator just to prove the world she’s got it, while not leaving much room for her sons to shine through, specifically the eldest one. So as a kid, you can imagine feeling a little boxed in with your home life. Like yeah, there are two parents and a kid brother so on the outside, it’s completely normal and perfect. But in reality, there’s not much there. Everyone is disconnected, either due to work, or brain chemistry, or simply just missing one another. And that’s a big uncomfortability I have with people’s decision to have kids. 

My generation seems to be so split between people who don’t want kids and people whose only goal in life is to have kids, and the more that social media pulls us apart on this topic, the more that these two caricatures seem to grow, and you’re either housed with people who FUCKING HATE KIDS or with people who JUST FUCKING LOVE KIDS, and that’s not really how it is at all. There’s way more to the conversation, but social media never let’s us get there. I understand that it’s ingrained in us to populate the Earth but I just wish there was more thought behind if it’s actually a good idea or not at that particular time or circumstance. Like Jeffery Dahmer’s dad was probably feeling those societal pressures to fit in, you know, get a good job, have a family, buy a house, and so on, so being the more, anti-social lab rat, probably clung to the first chance at this possibility, to show to the world that “yes, I’m here, I’m a person who has it together, and even though I’m a bit of a loner and enjoy spending more time in my lab with my own thoughts, I have a family and a house to come home to every night..so therefore I am NORMAL. Isn’t that what we all want? Or is it? Because what’s worse than being abnormal? What if Jeffrey Dahmer’s dad accepted that he preferred his work and the lab to the typical family dynamic so necessary with fitting in during the mid-late ‘70’s. What if he didn’t just succumb to societal pressures to show the rest of the world he’s OK, even if it’s not making him happy in the slightest? Imagine that? Imagine if he just did what he wanted, rather than what he thought he should do. Because happiness comes in many forms, and it’s unfortunate that society makes us think that it’s a one-size-fits-all box you have to conform to, to even just have conversations or relate to one another. 

But his dad and mom tried to do the thing. His dad probably picked the first person who would give him the time of day and allow him to eat, sleep, and live in his lab, and he probably thought, well, I guess this is it, I should probably marry her and have kids because “what else am I going to do?”. And I don’t know, maybe there was love, or attraction, I don’t know. That’s the problem, I don’t think we ever know what draws us into a person until it’s too late. Until we really realize how deep we’re in it. We’re not really thinking, just doing, based on what we’re told we should be doing by everyone else. Because they must know best, right?

So they have kids, and, like in high school biology class, when you learn all about genetics - this was the only thing I seemed drawn to in high school biology class - you know, the recessive traits and things that give some kids blue eyes and some kids red hair, they had Jeffery Dahmer. Who seems to be very bright, does well in school, but likes to be alone in his shed, like his father in the lab. Is somewhat anti-social, whether he finds comfort in being alone, or whether he just can’t find his way in. But he’s also personable when he wants to be, like his mother. He knows how to draw people in, and get people to do things the way he wants them done. And the mother’s crazies...we don’t see them, but they’re there. They’re always there. That’s how genetics and science works. Our parents and our familial history give us lots of things, whether it be on the surface or lying dormant, waiting for the right *something* to bring us out. Sometimes we might never see qualities that exist in our DNA; other times, we can’t escape the qualities, whether we like them or not. And sometimes, they just blend so uniquely it creates a very particular set of character traits that is now unleashed on the world. I assume when people have kids, they want to see their good qualities shine through, and take pride in their children’s accomplishments. Pride seems to do more harm than good in this case. For me personally, I like being me, I wouldn’t want to be anyone else, but I very much know the pains and burdens I feel, the shitty things I’ve had to go through to be Kerry, and not only would I not want to put that on someone else, it’s highly unlikely that the procreation of me, would even have the randomized, dice-roll list of qualities I like in the ways that work...no, it’s more plausible that my procreation would be completely different, possibly pinning different qualities against each other in a way, never-before-seen. And that scares me. Because of the dark, or unpleasant characteristics we get from our parents. The things no one wants to think about or talk about when having kids, but it’s there. And when you’re factoring the dice-roll from your partner of choice, well that’s a lot of room for trial and error. 

We also see a young Dahmer’s struggle with his own on-coming sexuality - his obsession with the doctor in town he often watches run - and his new found love for alcohol. I pair these together because as a teenager, and even into your twenties, these two things are often paired together, bringing you into adulthood. When you’re young, before you’ve really figured life out, while still trying to fit in (or not), obey your parents (or not), hormones and alcohol, seem to both help a lot of things and hurt a lot of things. The alcohol numbs the confusion and fuels the ability to try new things. The hormones cause the confusion, and makes trying new things the only thing one wants to do. I’m sure, and you can see this as the movie progresses, the alcohol seems to fill the void of Dahmer’s shed, now-destroyed by his dad after deciding that his son is too anti-social and needs to try harder. We don’t *see* it, but I know, and you may too, that the alcohol (at first), starts to quiet the thoughts. The thoughts we don’t want. It makes life better for a time. And then slowly, we get deeper into what alcohol truly does, when you tip off that cliff. It makes the thoughts turn to voices, and the voices get LOUD. By the very last scene, the young Dahmer has nothing left of reality to draw him back in. His family has moved out of the house, his “friends” have gone to college, and it’s just him and booze and the voices...and the hitchhiker just runs by on the most perfect afternoon and Dahmer wants to connect. 

This movie was always tough for me to watch. There was a really dark time in my life, right before I met my girlfriend, and things just weren’t going right. Someone I cared about betrayed my trust and used me in a situation that pinned some of my closest friends against me. I felt very alone. I was really hurt. I’m still really hurt by it. I’m hurt that she was believed over me. I’m hurt that nobody’s apologized to me for believing her over me and causing so much chaos. I kept trying to meet people, make a connection. It typically was never done in the best ways, but I wasn’t really in the best place. I was drinking a lot. My mind was going to dark places, darker then I ever want to go down ever again. The mind is a scary place when it’s feeling void of human connection. You spend a lot of time clawing at the walls of your own psyche, and each time you try to claw your way up out of the dark place, you get the muck all over your hands. You find that the despair lingers even as you keep pressing on. I was told by my very first therapist - she was actually a clinical psychologist who donated her time to UMASS mental health a day or two a week - that I was the highest functioning depressed person she had ever met, in her 20 or so years practicing. Oh the places you’ll go (if you weren’t so sad). So I might’ve smiled, I might’ve carried on, but I just wanted to feel like someone loved me, that someone cared. And because I kept getting pushed away, made to feel alone, alienated, I started to think about the ways I could *make* people care. I’m thankful the acute alcoholism leaves me no real memory of my thoughts at the time, but I know they weren’t pleasant. But I know that they’re there. 

And that’s why I truly feel that these tendencies are in all of us. People make the joke “oh, well he looks like a serial killer”. And yeah, maybe he does. But maybe you do too, and life just hasn’t rolled those dice for you genetically, or hasn’t tossed you a curveball bringing you to your lowest. Which is why it’s important to remember to be kind. To your friends, to the people who deliver your food, to the guy as the gas station, to the grouchy lady at the post office, to the people who live in your neighborhood, the people you work with. It’s not always easy, but small gestures help humanize reality. They can make the not-so-pleasant thoughts in our heads dissipate. They can bring people back to the right here, right now. Because you never know what someone else is going through. And you never know what might help.