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IvyMorgan -> Religion, Mental Health and Kink (8/13/2008 4:47:16 PM)
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I know, I know, those are our two favourite "and Kink" topics. But go with me here... This could also be called "Why I love my psychiatrist". I saw him today, he was Doctor appointment number 2 of 4. I still had some oomph in me when I saw him. We talked about a lot of things, my meds, my boobs, and then he asked me how I was getting on at the Jasmine Centre. He means FDL (my shiny new therapuetic community that I get to start in a couple of weeks). And so began a discussion about my pathology. About my personalities. About how I came to be the fucked up little girl in his office in the first place. I love him because he acknowledges, "you need a therapist who is more intelligent than you", because he can explain when I'm *almost* sure other people have tried to explain, but without it sounding condescending, or dismissive, or patronising, because, in amongst acknowledging being suicidal, we have a giggle. This is the first psych I've ever had who's been any good. You know how good he is when he starts referencing Freud and he's still making sense. He likened me a little to Anna O, so I've got some homework to do later. But, here's the kicker, he suggested a possibility that all of my problems, *all* of my problems, are related to sex. I presented at the age of 13 with physical symptoms of a sexual nature. With no obvious cause. They persisted and got worse during my teens, until, in my late teens I was on heavy narcotics to be able to walk or move at all. I wrote exams whilst high, stoned, and requesting medical attention. I had a religious, conservative up bringing. Very middle England. Very "normal". I went to church, I was confirmed, I sang in the choir. I was the one who did all the prayers in assembly at school. I was the one who knew the obscure hymn verses. I actually listened during sermons. Sermons which preached tolerance and love as a veiled condescension for a holier than thou attitude regarding those who were "different", the sick, the young, the gays, the poor... I knew, about the age of 12, I wasn't straight. I learnt the word "gay" watching *that* episode of Ellen. But, I loved Ellen way before then. I knew, for sure, I was either kinky or completely fucked in the head, about the age of 14 when I first started thinking about having sex as something I wanted. Before then, I'd been thinking about sex, but it was all abusive. I'd written about sex, but it was all abusive. So, there I am, a young, sick, teen, in church listening to how evil I am. I'm pretty darned smart, so I understand the hypocrisy and condesention. That's what drove me from my first church to find "true" Christians, ones who actually lived what they preached and were honest about it. I didn't fit in there either, what with being gay and all. I was politely asked to have no contact with the young people of a congregation on account of being a non practicing homosexual. I come home and it's not really any better. The idea of talking about sex, as anything other than either a bioligial process, something other people do which shouldn't be done, or something married couples do in missionary position, just wasn't *ever* countenanced. And that third option, highly unlikely to be mentioned even then. I was sexualised at a young age. I was abused, and assaulted, and raped. My mother still thinks I'm lying when I say these things. She will never accept me. I wasn't straight, I was kinky, I was trying to find a way to express my sexuality, and my environment, for many reasons, did not give me such a way. And so, I began to dissociate. And so I have a split personality. Parts of myself I didn't know how to deal with. Parts of myself that weren't acceptable. They got split off, annexed, and walls were made to mean I didn't have to deal with them. I could go on being perfect middle England daughter. Which is fine until you have your third mental break down at the age of 22. Though that might have been the 4th one, it's hard to tell. My "supression" manifested itself as physical symptoms, unknown crippling pain, a problem with drugs, a problem with self harm, a highly focused work ethic, and socially distancing myself from my peers (also caused by bullying, so, let's not just blame the sex for that one). I'll get "better" when I fully accept, not just on an intellectual level but on a "belief" level, that it's okay for me to be all of the many things that I am. It's okay to like girls - that way, it's okay to want to beat people til they scream and pass out, it's okay to want to turn them into obedient little borg types, it's okay to want to be hurt, it's okay to like to have sex, it's okay to have sex, it's okay to be turned on by rope, it's okay to be turned on by all the sick, twisted and depraved things that turn me on, it's all okay. It's okay that I was raped, it's okay that I was assaulted, it's okay that I wa abused. These are things that happened but not things that define me. I know, for a fact, my weight problem started as a result of being raped. I wanted to be unattractive so it wouldn't happen again, so I spent a summer while I was ten secretly binge eating on all the calories I could get my hands on. I'm not sure if this explains *everything*, but it explains a whole lot more than was explained before. It doesn't account for being bipolar, it doesn't account for the endochrine stuff, but who said I couldn't have messed up genetics as well as all the other stuff. This is certainly a better explaination that anything else that's been suggested, and I could certainly get behind this one, it has that ring of truth to it that few things do. It does throw a spanner in the therapeutic community works though, they class S&M, without even thinking about it, as self harm, and self harm is a behaviour that results in being placed on review, and persistant self harm leads to discharge. How am I supposed to accept a part of me as ok, when those who are helping me to accept parts of me as ok think it's wrong? (And this is before we get to my mother thinking it "wrong" "sick" "depraved" "abusive" "killing myself" and just not something a daughter of hers should be doing.) Much to think about tonight. Many, many thoughts... Do you have any? Thoughts I mean.
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