UNME contd

well I tried to suggest something in that post that didn’t come out clearly at all.

my psychotherapy started in the height of the years of accusations of sexual abuse, providers of all kinds were being yanked from ordinary practices and daycare into jail; and were let out years later as innocent. I was terrified that my parents had done something horrible to me as a child. The problem was that I had such a huge, current situational crisis, couldn’t support myself, and had to live with them. These fears couldn’t be addressed and the therapist yanked them out so rudely and it was such a dangerous situation…

And here I am today.

The fears went under the surface and magnified over the years. I was pushed so badly to the limit at the last hospital that I went to that I had recurrent images and related feelings coming to my mind of being given razor cuts all over my body as an infant by my mother and father. I dwelled on these images to stop myself from thinking about them, if you know what I mean. Maybe you don’t. I think that the reality is that the stress and distortion of 40 years of useless psychoanalysis because of the malpractice atJohns Hopkins Hospital “morphed” the things that DID happen in our family and to me–and what family does not have its skeletons in the closet, its sibling rivalry? These things, ridiculously suppressed and denied and unattended, turned into these horrifying images. I think that that is what really happened. As far as the actual issues that needed attending? Those are FUCKED. My BROTHER’S DEAD. I’m UNME trying to be a mother to a child I love.

I’m so sorry, Ian.