Author Topic: Formerly ITexperiment now SallyingForth Story/Update  (Read 4026 times)

SallyingForth

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  • Sallying Forth
Formerly ITexperiment now SallyingForth Story/Update
« on: March 24, 2010, 10:21:29 AM »
Hi,
If you would like to read more in depth about me follow these links:
http://www.voicelessness.com/disc3//index.php?topic=6499.0
This is my original story.

http://www.voicelessness.com/disc3//index.php?topic=6497.0
This is an update.

I never thought I would return here to 'talk' about what is happening in my life and that it would include Narcissism. Yet, here I am.  :shock:

My hubby's aunt and my favorite person in this world is close to death. I will miss her dearly. She is one of the most generous, giving, and loving people I have ever known in spite of her OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, which is not OCD). She treated me more like family than my own family has.

My hubby's sister is the N. Ack! I heard her talking on the phone with my hubby. She is loud and boisterous, needing to be heard and to have her way. She is the executor of the estate.  :roll:  But of course. UGH! Anyway, she is already planning the taking/giving away/selling of her aunt's furniture. The lady is not dead yet.  :x  So shameful, so terrible - there are no words.  :shock:

That is all I can say for now about this. Still in a state of shock that my aunt being close to death. Very hard to deal with.


As for the rest of my life, wow - I have come so far. One thing which helped my healing immensely is meeting a woman on-line whose life is like a mirror of mine. She is married to a man with OCPD as is my hubby. We are the same age. We have been married the same amount of years. And she is the one person in my life that I have been able to tell anything to and I do mean anything.

Talking about some of my horrific abuse even to my therapist was impossible. For years, I wondered why until I started writing the third rewrite on my novel. It was then I discovered a psychiatrist had abused me. I always did not like psychiatrists but had no idea why. He literally told me he could show me how to have normal sex. It was a lie. Because I had been lied to so much I believed him. Again another person abused me and treated me as if I were a "boy" not a girl. This was a setup too. It was part of the long term abuse at the hands of my bio-father and his boyfriend. The abuse involved power plays using drugs and sex and simulated death. He used specific drugs to simulate death to make me believe I died. I was much older when this man started his 'sexual intercourse experiments' as he called them.

I was finally able to not only write about this hideous doctor but talk to my friend about him. It was so freeing to understand why I could not be open to my therapist. I had seen him for fourteen years and yet could never be vulnerable with him. I have yet to return to a therapist since discovering this about the psychiatrist and telling my friend. I suppose that will be the next step. I have thought about writing a letter to my former therapist and telling him why I could never be vulnerable with him. I think it would help him understand our therapeutic relationship better. It felt mystifying to me, odd that I could never let my barriers down. What did not help was being mentally abused by a therapist before I saw my last therapist. That abuse only compounded my PTSD and made it difficult to let down my barriers. That coupled with the psychiatric abuse from my childhood and WHAM! It was not easy to share at any depth.

In my novel, a fictionalization of my abuse, I share in depth about the pain and horrors I experienced as a toddler, child, and teenager.

As my former name suggests, I was an IT experiment, neither boy nor girl. My novel is basically about this experimentation and my struggle to become who I was meant to be. I am now editing my novel and that is an eyeopener as well.

Well, that is about it for now. It is good, in some ways, to be back here again. Thanks for 'listening'.
Sallying Forth
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The real voyage in discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.  Marcel Proust