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About Fictionalizer

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  • Birthday July 6

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    Somewhere inside my mind.
  • Interests
    Writing, drawing, my dog, research, playing word games, playing my flute, gardening, cycling, learning.

    Though the love of my life is writing. I discover a lot about myself through whatever form it takes.

    Right now, I'm revising/editing my novel which used to be a memoir. The memoir wasn't my thing. I love to write fiction. And at the same time it triggers me.

    Website design is another favorite hobby. I found the software RapidWeaver for Mac computers and fell in love with it. I changed the design on my website about five times before I decided I like the current one. The problem with RapidWeaver is getting lost in the fun of creating colorful websites.

    Perhaps someday I'll return to drawing again.
  1. Amazing Recovery

    I never thought I'd say this on I am a recovered survivor of some horrific abuse by my psychopathic father or as some people would say, a thriver though I'm not quite there to thriving, I'm in between recovered and thriving. I have remembered a few things since I last posted an update to my story, A Summer With My Psychopathic Father. However, I no longer dwell on them. They aren't the focus of my life. My recovery from the abuse is no longer the focus of my life. I'm still in transition though, working on health issues and healing from those. Focusing on weight loss. Exercise. Improving my diet. Strength training. I write almost daily and not about the abuse. I no longer keep a daily journal filled with memories of what happened to me. I've been writing for fun instead of working on my book. And that's another change too. I love writing fictional stories not non-fiction. I started a memoir and hated it. It wasn't my style. I went back to writing the story of my abuse as a thriller. It's transformed now into something altogether different and I'm fine with that. I've taken an extended breather from writing/editing the thriller to write for fun.
  2. Daniel, After reading your story on the My Story section, I wanted to read the rest here. My father was my perp and a serial killer. He was into boating as your perp was. I can relate a lot to that part of your story. My father was the first person to introduce me to boating. I wish I could say I hate him... but I have not gotten that far in my recovery. I only started to remember what he did after my mother died in 2010. Therapy has been difficult for me too. It is amazing that you have a partner and children and a career. You did not allow this disgusting man to ruin your life.
  3. Blog Now On External Website

    I started sharing this on "My Story" in one running document under "A Summer in Hell with Psychopathic Father." This is not the easiest stuff I have ever shared. However, it is the most affirming. The more I write about what my father did to me the summer I turned 11, the more all the clues my subconscious left me my entire life make sense. The more I write, the more I accept what my father did to me. I now figured out it was the summer I turned 10 not 11. Last night, I finally told my best friend what I am remembering. Before I started to speak she prayed. Afterwards she prayed. I was going to ask her to pray. We are very linked in that way, knowing what the other needs. I decided to tell my story through my online website blog. This link takes the reader to the home page. Please read the blog with the utmost caution as there are no trigger warnings. Fictionalizer's Blog
  4. Hi Sherodon, I've been married for 27 years to an abusive man. I know how difficult it is to leave and stay away permanently. I've left three times, each time for a longer period of time. Some books which have helped me realize what was happening was abuse and that I was not alone: Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men by Lundy Bancroft The Verbally Abusive Man, Can He Change?: A Woman's Guid to Deciding Whether to Stay or Go by Patricia Evans Ditch That Jerk: Dealing With Men Who Control and Hurt Women by Pamela Jayne
  5. Interesting about this post for me. Although I commented on someone else's post I never once used the word "masturbating" even though that's what it was about. So here it is: I masturbate to stories about sex between black guys and white guys and porn between the same. I have to see black guy or guys raping a white guy. It's usually better, more like more accurate, that it's a gang of black guys raping one single white. Why? Because I saw it happen to my father and it happened to me. Wow! I was going to start a thread about this today and I found yours. Thank you for being brave enough to share. It has helped me more than you could possibly know. For me, it is complicated due to what happened to me. I read the stories and watch the porn too. The characters have to be specific though—tough and rough acting/sounding African-American men raping white men. I both witnessed this type of abuse, vicarious abuse, and was a victim of it. I am a female and was treated like a gay male. Long story. Part of me thinks it's about reenactment of the abuse and part of me knows it's about shame too. Any time I attempt to write down what happened I am compelled to read the stories and/or watch the porn. It seems I can only get so far with writing it down before I am triggered. I've asked myself a zillion times why I can't be normal. I can't have any sex because of what happened to me. I used to have sex but found myself asking my partner to do the very things which were done to me. I didn't have the memories yet, but I had nightmares and flashbacks every time I did it. That stopped me from doing it plus talking to my therapist. The masturbating didn't start until I began writing down what my father and his boyfriend did to me. Source: Help: Intrustive Fantasies?
  6. I'm not sure what it would be called. Is it sexual addiction or sexual acting out? Am I trying to relive what my abusers did to me? I can't even talk about it. I can't write it down. Every time I get closer to IT I escape into watching things which look and sound like what happened to me but they don't quite cut it. This pattern of behavior started back in 2003 and stopped for a while, about three years, or until I got triggered by my mother dying. I read a website on line yesterday about the sex love aftereffects of sexual abuse. I was doing a search for sexual abuse and came across the site. There's a huge list of aftereffects. I do something similar, I have yet to talk or write about it. I know it distracts me from the pain of the sexual abuse. But number one it prolongs the abuse cycle. As long as I continue my behavior I live out the lies my abusers taught me—sex is devoid of intimacy and loving feelings. Source: Sex Addict
  7. The truth shall set you free...

    Sometimes I wonder if this is true. Did you know that verse from the Bible is displayed in huge letters on the entrance wall at the CIA? "You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free." Yikes. It's been my favorite quote from the Bible for years. For years I've known I was abused by the government. I knew it involved the CIA. All the pieces to the puzzle are starting to come together. And yet I don't feel any freer, yet. My mother died in September of last year. I thought her passing would be benign. Wrong. It took five months before I started to have any real reaction to it. Immediately, I started to have nightmares. They were vague. I started to write them down. By February I was in the throws of remembering again, triggered by my mother's death. I decided to write about the memories since there were so many surfacing at once. They're all about my BioFather and his boyfriend and places they took me. In 2005 when I finally accepted that my step-dad was not my biological father I had a fleeting nightmare about this oddly shaped building. I did extensive research to find the building. It was triangular and backed up to an alley. There was a sort of carriage house behind it but made into another building. We, my BioFather and his boyfriend and I, always entered the building through the alley. Yet I always remembered the front of the oddly shaped building. It was similar to half of a hexagon. I never found that building despite my extensive research. The reason is I had to write the novel I'm currently writing. I needed to put more of pieces of the puzzle together before I could find that oddly shaped building. Now I have that information and it's not easy to look at. However, it is setting me free. It turns out that my father's boyfriend was my CIA handler. I still have a difficult time seeing this on paper and writing about it. This is the first place I've written about it. It isn't in my novel yet. When I first had an inkling about it I started to do some research about gay African-Americans. The deeper I got into that research the more triggered I got. I decided to search one area of the country for my information considering it should be near Virginia the location of the CIA. So my focus got more narrow and that's when I discovered the oddly shaped triangular building. It does exist and it was right under my nose this entire time. Yikes. I'm triggered again. Doesn't take much these days. More to come later...
  8. My BioF was into the BDSM scene and made his own torture/abuse/play devices. When I first began to remember what he had done to me, I found that I'd bought leather goods for years. I loved the smell of leather and the smell of leather polish and the sound leather made when touched after it was polished. I never understood my intense need to buy specific leather items. Not that I've hoarded leather products. I've been picky about the type of leather products I've bought. As the memories started to emerge in 2003/2004, many of my likes and dislikes including colors, clothes styles, purchases of leather, etc., started making sense. I learned that I "dropped" clues throughout my entire adult life which pointed to the abuse my BioF perpetrated on me. It began with the first clue, my first boyfriend. He was black. My BioF's boyfriend was black. He was athletic and muscular. My BioF's boyfriend was the same. He lifted weights, so did my BioF's boyfriend. The similarities was astounding yet only as I looked back could I see them. The second man I dated looked like my BioF, light brown hair with reddish, blonde highlights. The clues didn't end there. Yet, I had no memories of what my BioF did to me. It was all blocked until 2003 when I started writing about @ulder on @files getting raped. I'd tear up those stories. After all, they were fiction weren't they? They weren't real. They couldn't possibly be real. Why was I writing such despicable stories? I berated myself, disgusted with my sick fantasies. Then I started writing about myself and it was a fictional story. I couldn't write the real thing, a nonfiction story. I needed distance. A fictional story gave me that narrative distance. Through writing, I began remembering what my BioF did. The memories spilled out on the pages. The novels became a cathartic release. The first novel was very graphic and I had to rewrite it. I knew there would be no way to publish it as written. What I came to accept is my BioF's torture and rape of me from a very young age. He'd never vaginally rape me to reinforce my new gender identity, a boy. He called me boy. There were gobernment people involved. A doctor who worked with gender identity reprogramming and mind control. Plus other doctors who raped and abused me. I came to believe I was a boy and not a girl. The reprogramming and MC started when I was around eighteen months old. Eighteen months old is the time when one begins to recognize they are either a boy or a girl. The reprogramming was organized and planned to occur at the same time so that I'd have gender identity confusion. And I did. By the time I was four years old, I'd lost the knowledge that I was a girl. When I was six years old, my parents sold me 'back' to my BioF and his boyfriend. Of course there was manipulation on the government's part to prevent my parents from moving into their new home. When they agreed to sell me 'back' then they were suddenly given the money to move into their home. From this point onward, I'd be 'made available' to my BioF for him to do with as he pleased. I vividly remembered the actual signing and money exchange. I remembered the house where it occurred, the people present, etc. I remember my BioF and this other man taking me into a bedroom in my own home and raping me while my mother and step-dad stayed at the dining room table. The 'contract' had been signed at the dining room table. The dining room was next to the room where I was raped. When I remembered that day, I called my mother and asked her about the house. I could tell she was shocked that I'd remember a house like that. It was unusual because the living areas were on the top floor and the bedrooms on the ground level. There was one bedroom next to the dining room. I suspect now it might have been a maid's quarters. My mother quickly changed the topic when I asked about the location of specific rooms. More later... Source: My Story I Shared In Part on Intro Section in 2006
  9. My abuse began quite young, 6 months old, and continued well into my adult life. My primary abuser was my BioFather and the men he worked with in gobernment. Mind control was a major portion of my abuse including being raised as a gay male. I am a female and straight. I didn't know about this part of my abuse until years after beginning therapy. The reason being I was distracted by a very controlling therapist who didn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. I knew then, some 21 years ago, but the damn therapist didn't want to go there. I think it scared the crap out of her. Truth can do that. The other part of my abuse involved my parents-mother and step-father, my oldest brother and extended family. This was emotional and verbal abuse which lasted until I was in my 30's. When I entered therapy I "divorced" myself from my abusive family-of-origin. Back to my BioFather ... I always knew my "father" was NOT my real father. I always tried to find ways I looked like others in my family because I knew I didn't belong. I only looked like my mother and that forever haunted me. My mother would never admit to anything and still won't when confronted. Last year I discovered why. My mother has two personality disorders which make it nearly impossible for her to admit wrong doing. These two personality disorders together made my life with her a living hell since I took the brunt of her anger and blame. I was the product of her mistake which she didn't want to acknowledge, talk about and tell me about because it would mean she wasn't perfect. However, because of her PDs she has to be perfect. It's a round robin. One thing begets another and the bottom line -- she is perfect so she cannot admit to any errors in her life. It was only on my birthday in 2005 that I accepted my "father" is my step-father. (Must be the denial. I meant to say, my father is NOT my father, rather he is my step-dad.) After many hours of research on genetics it was confirmed. Finally my therapist asked me point blank and I felt my anxiety level climb. I had intense heart palpitations when I finally said it. For the first time in my life all my anxiety and panic attacks made sense. Only this year, 2006, did I understand my first phobia which brought me into therapy. I have come full circle since 18 years ago. My whole life and my many seemingly inconsequential decisions are beginning to make perfect sense. Over and over I made choices based on the truth of my childhood yet without knowing it. My real father or BioFather was my main perpetrator. He abused me in every way, shape and form. The majority of the abuse involved abusive and sadistic BDSM without the use of safe words. My BioFather was a sadistic bastard who tortured and violently abused every inch of my body and mind and soul. This abuse involved my BioFather and other men who repeatedly sodomized me to reinforce my gender programming. Basically, I was an experiment - a gay male in a female straight body. When my sessions with him were through then my parents continued the mind control portion of my abuse. They were taught to reinforce my "training." My step-father called me son to reinforce my new gender identity. There was encouragement to play with boy's toys rather than girl's toys. Together with daily emotional and verbal abuse my gender programming was kept intact throughout childhood, adolescence and early adulthood until I began therapy full time 21 years ago. I survived through dissociation and creating an elaborate inner world. I became a poly-fragmented multiple in order to stay sane. To remember I played out what happened to me over and over again, telling my story within my system, refusing to forget. Now I am writing that story. I'll write more at a later time. I stayed away from this forum because I was writing my books. I started writing a book and that turned into two books, with a full rewrite of the first one. I literally changed the entire story because I knew what I originally wrote could never be published. The new story tells the same past abuses but through a different method. It's still controversial in it's presentation. There's nothing like it in publication. However, I won't change it because it needs to be told the way in which I present it. I used the name 'Fictionalizer' on this forum because my books are based on fact. But I used a fiction genre to write the truth. This came about through relating to the @Files television show. I could relate to the character @ulder in the show. His life was mine in a very odd way. That's when I decided to write fiction rather than nonfiction. Source: My Story I Shared In Part on Intro Section in 2006