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I posted on Self-Archeology's blog an excerpt on the origins and effects of Freud's Oedipus Complex Theory: http://blog.selfarcheology.com/2015/12/on-freuds-theory-of-oedipus-complex.html

I never created an introduction because I didn't know whom to introduce. And although this isn't an introduction, it is quite revealing as that I am no longer who I once was--so says the wife. At this point it will do. When I first took the ACE I had a score of 4; then I took it after a few months of therapy and had an 8; now, it's a 9. And unless someone went to prison and never told me that should stand. I began EMDR in the Fall of 2014, using audible and tactile sensation alternating from one side to the other. Because I had been meditating since 7th grade this was quite enlightening as it enhanced my ability to focus. One of the first areas of focus was an event that happened in 2nd grade because I drew a bat. It was around Halloween when I saw a PBS documentary about how bats were useful and critical to an ecosystem. So, I drew a very large bat on a joint art work with a girl from my class. She cried. She was terrified by the artwork of a 2nd grader. The teacher was telling her that it was OK, not to be scared, and that "bats aren't real." The teacher and I had a shouting match about the reality of bats. I spewed forth everything learned from the documentary. She had me cover it up with a tree. No one came to my defense. Another altercation was in the library. A 6th grade bully took a record off the phonograph as I was listening to it. I threw a fit. The librarian came over, wrapped her hands around me, and carried me out of the library. I was kicking, screaming, and clawed her hands so viciously that it drew blood. "She had to wear bandages," my mother yelled. A third incident was when a teacher had her hand on my shoulder leading me to the principal's office for kicking a girl. We were seated Indian Style (PC crowd get a grip!), as I adjusted my leg, it popped forward because it had gone numb. I apologized profusely but to no avail. The teacher's nails were digging into my shoulder as I tried to squirm away from her escort. I reached up and grabbed her wrist, then pulled--executing a rather deft martial arts throw for being untrained--she rolled down a hill of large lava rocks. The report was that I "beat up a teacher." For one week I was kicked off the bus, so my mother hired a taxi to take me to school each morning and return me home. I was so embarrassed by this that I hiked the hills to get to school instead. These events all happened in a few months time. I was expelled from Happy Valley Elementary (irony?), then expelled from a special needs school, followed by the whole school district. At least this is what my parents tell me. I have contacted the school, they have no records of this--you would think that if all this took place there would be a real, and quite serious, permanent record of events--although I have my report cards that ask my mother to take me to a psychiatrist, twice. My parents sent me to Saint Catherine's Military Academy by Thanksgiving. And here comes the abandonment issues, but only to a certain degree because my mother was distant to begin with. She was quite detached as she had already lost three children: My eldest sister died 30 hours after birth; an older brother died at age 7; a still birth at 8 1/2 months. Also, I had another brother that was in a state hospital due to a broken chromosome issue. While sympathy, and even empathy, are not without merit, you don't leave an 8 year old to fend for himself to the point that he packs his own lunch and cooks his own meals. I could fix eggs by age 5. Although I have often noted that I learned to cook out of self defense because her cooking was quite bad (my sister taught me to cook!) I am now at this boarding school, seated on my bed, staring at my hands, and wondering "what did I do so evil?" I envision bars on the windows. There are no other students because I was dropped off during Thanksgiving break. The isolation still hurts. Although, sadly, no emotions at all toward my mother for leaving me there, even during EMDR. The first day of school, a Commandant decided that he needed to swat me with a paddle for not knowing left from right quick enough, and it gave him the "opportunity to work on his golf swing." Following that I was beaten by an 8th grader because he wanted to be first in line to the canteen for the afternoon snack. With blood coming from my nose, tears from my eyes, a nun told me I was just homesick. I replied, "that's the last place I want to be." How did I really get there? This is where I can thank therapy. During EMDR a pain in my chest began to stand out. A rather angry, spiked, black miasma with bright red eyes, inside a cage with runes on the bars to ensure he cannot get out, resides in the center of my chest. Also trapped within the miasma was a rare, male calico cat. The miasma was dubbed Chaos; the cat, Sherlock. Sherlock likes to sit on a bed in a very large library. He is stoic, knowledgeable, and can delve secrets from everything he sees, hence the name. Chaos is quite acerbic, will use knowledge as a weapon, and will fight back in pure rage (that poor librarian). Why the schism? Not long ago, during another EMDR session while talking to Chaos, my right hand went numb and I felt pressure on my throat. I wanted to vomit. Having studied enough psychology I immediately realized what had happened. During the time frame above, my older sister came into my room one night saying, "the guy that is watching us is in my bed and it is making me uncomfortable. Can I sleep with you?" Years later my step-father told a story about how he got rid of that same guy "threatened to call the cops and claim he raped our 12 year old daughter." I was shocked by this story. I immediately told my step-father about the night that my sister came into my room. My step-father was stunned. Wait, he didn't know? Recently, I asked my mother about that guy and she said that he had stolen jewelry from them and they chased him off. My mother has pieces of jewelry that could cover an ivy league collegiate education but didn't call the cops? Something didn't add up. This guy had access to the house. My sister came to my room. My step-father didn't know about it. This guy supposedly stole jewelry. The cops were not called. Was my mother not home that night? My mother was probably with my step-father where he worked as an entertainer. My sister must have told her what happened. My mother had my step-father chase off that guy. They couldn't call the cops because she would have to explain where she was. Also, this was during custody issues with my father and my mother couldn't let him win. My mother was that self-centered! It was more important to save her own hide than get proper help for her children. That is seriously demented. Now, after that last detour into the details of what caused the schism, I could finally address Chaos in that cage: He had a secret. One that he was not allowed to tell. I can hear my mother's voice through clenched teeth, "we do not talk of this!" This is why I watched PBS and read books at every opportunity. It was so I could think about, or talk about, anything but what had happened. The violent reaction that developed during this time came from being grabbed, pinned down and held by the throat--perhaps even a knife. And why I was not taken to psychiatrist. Because I was talking about it but no one would listen. A psychiatrist probably would have and my mother would have been exposed. Someone violated me in some sexual manner. No, I am not able to recall what precisely happened, nor do I wish to. But the good news is that Chaos is no longer in a cage; he even smiles when I talk to him. Sherlock could still use a bit of help because no one has ever shown him any love--especially not his parents who hate "those academic types." That aspect will take time but now that Chaos is happy Sherlock is sure to follow. It is truly amazing what you can discover about yourself from therapy and how much it can help you relieve a burden. Perhaps I should have an ACE of a 10; someone should have gone to jail--not Chaos.

So I'm currently trying to DeFOO but I'm not sure how to go about it. I remember Stefan mentioning a few times that talking to your parents about your childhood is very helpful but to be honest, I couldn't be bothered. I've been seeing a therapist for over a year and we're discussing the options of either writing a letter to them or confronting them in person. Let me give you some background to better understand my situation. I'll try to keep it short: I have an ACE score of 7. I've never been close to my parents and they've never taken any interest in me, the youngest, or my 3 other brothers. We've never, ever had a meaningful conversation as far as I know - it's only ever superficial like "how's work?" or "how's the weather?". I think I've been depressed most of my life. School was hell with being bullied about my weight, feeling like an alien and my mother managed to make things worse. In my teens I was self-harming, almost committed suicide, became a truant and eventually moved out at 17 when I graduated from the shit pit that was high school. I was really messed up at 17 but getting away from home was probably the smartest thing I've ever done. My childhood: I have a lot of memories of violence in my family. My two eldest brothers are around 10 years my senior and I have memories of my father beating the shit out of them and choking them against the wall while my mother screamed and threw plates. With the rest of my siblings, I was spanked and hit on a regular basis; anything from once a week to once a month. Until I was 17 I suppressed the memories of being sexually abused at around 5 or 6 by my second eldest brother (Let's call him Dave). Only recently I started remembering more details of sadistic behaviour from Dave, such as pinning me to the ground and spitting in my face while I screamed, or he would pick me up by the ankles and purposely swing me around close to the wall of our house outside, making me believe he was trying to smash my face in, or even kill me. My parents blamed me for his behaviour by saying shit like "you shouldn't be playing with him then". As for the sexual abuse, my parents knew about it. I have a memory where my mother walked in on Dave manipulating me to touch him inappropriately and she didn't do anything about it. Instead she pretended nothing was wrong and even thought that leaving me in Dave's care ALONE was an okay thing to do. Recently I realised that I started piling on weight and started a very long war with eating disorders after the sexual abuse. In my teens my mother saw the scars on my arm from self-harming and instead of talking to me or getting me help, she pointed an accusatory finger at me and, of course, I would completely shut down and lock myself in my room. If she heard me crying in my room, she would get angry. I spent the next 10 years moving further and further away. My parents live in the arse-crack of nowhere in south-west Ireland and I ended up moving to the Netherlands 4 and a half years ago. I spent the past 10 years feeling guilty about not seeing my family enough and spent a lot of money on travelling back and forth. Not once have my parents bothered to visit me, and they never had a mortgage and don't have any debt as far as I know. I have thought about confronting them in person but at this point I don't see why I should spend so much time and money and resources on people who never loved me and never protected me. I know for sure that I will never get a satisfying answer and I will never be able to repair this relationship. Am I justified in just writing them just a letter telling them that I never want contact again? The idea of confronting them physically is terrifying so I sometimes wonder if I am just chickening out or not? I've thought about calling into the show but I feel like I'm all over the place and I would just be wasting Stefan and Mike's time. Thanks in advance and sorry for the lack of structure in my post. I'm having a hard time putting my thoughts and feelings together.

My newest video: An example of a sociopathic convicted pedophile from the TV show "The Fall." http://youtu.be/h2bnuTxOMoE

Hi this may have triggers for certain people, it deals with sexual abuse and mental abuse and physical abuse. My name is Daniel I have an ACE score of 10. I am the only child of a black single mother. I have been to therapist after therapist and I have found them all to be quite destructive. I have seen many since I was very little, none of the child psychologist confronted my mother on anything but blamed me for my anger issues which was me just reacting to children in my class who were making fun of me for being overweight. I know I was medicated when I was very little but I don't know what drugs, my mother never gave them to me in pill form so I am guessing she crushed them up in my food. I found out about the drugs over hearings her talk about me throwing up all the time due to the side effects. My mother mollested me and made me take showers with her every morning until I was 11 or 12 until I refused to go into the shower with her. I was constantly bullied at school for my weight, no matter what the other kids did I was the one to get into trouble. I remember when I was in first grade defending this mentally handicapped boy in the school yard from about 5 other boys constantly fighting them and I was the one to get into trouble. Everyday when I came home I was beaten by my uncle , because the teachers complained about me, they knew he would do it and he joked openly with them about beating me and one time threatened to beat me in front of my class. I also had a cousin who is 5 years older and is very violent and hurt me a lot. My situation right now , as an adult I have been to 3 therapists and they have all been abusive in their own ways. My first one told me not to trust my feelings and to keep abusive and destructive relationships, he offered only crappy chit chat and was very manipulative to think at the end of each session I got something done. I ended things with him after he had my mother come and I confronted her just about my cousin who is violent and threatens and has tried to beat me up multiple times and why she lets him stay and she claimed no responsibility and then I kept asking and my therapist asked me why did I bring her here if I was just going to beat up on her. Right now I am still living with the violent crazies and I do fear for my life, I have constant anxiety attacks and I go into psychosis and I start to hide in closets and my mind goes to the times of when I was about to be beaten by my uncle. I have no friends to stay with, I do have a job but it's part time and I am trying to get a second one to help leave. I did used to go to a for meetup but I felt isolated and not wanted, little empathy, I did make one friend that I still talk to there though. I have emblem health insurance and I wanted to know if anyone knows any good therapists as good as Daniel mackler or nathiel Brandon that I can speak with or if anyone has any advice. It would be very much appreciated, I really desperately need help. I have read Daniel macllers last book, listened to hundreds of podcasts, I read about 1/3 of real time relationships and I read the psychology of self esteem and how to raise your self esteem by Nathiel Brandon. I just want to also say i will get through this and I will get better no matter what because that is my goal and I want to become a doctor and help research empathy and how we can grow it. I forgot to say I live in New York , queens New York. Also just to correct I have read Daniel mackler's book. To clarify I have been to more than 8 therapists throughout my life. After a while after the third therapist as an adult , I gave up on therapy for a while, thinking psychology the field was bullshit and that if medical doctors lol of ability was that of therapists lots of people would have died already. I still think very poorly of most therapists but I am not looking for most I am looking for a Nathaniel Brandon or a Daniel Mackler, a good therapist

I was posting on a recent thread about a user who has cuckold fantasies and it reminded me of a very disturbing memory which I have never shared with anyone. My parents sometimes had me, my younger brother, and my younger sister sometimes would bathe in the same tub. I was born in 1991, my younger brother in 1993, and my younger sister in 1996. I have memories of trying to get my little sister to kiss my penis in the bathtub. I called it my "little man" as a euphemism and I remember manipulating her into doing it, and that she never wanted to do it. If I remember correctly, I was 8 or 9, which would make her 3 or 4 and my brother 6 or 7. Even though I know that my parents are to blame for having us in the same bathtub, there is the shame of having to keep the secret (because I had no bond with either parent), the shame of imprinting my younger sister who I love with this inappropriate and humiliating sexual memory (she moved in with a friend, and we don't speak very often, and it will be very humiliating to bring up to her). My mom may as well be dead because she is on so many anti-depressants and anti-psychotics that she is like a zombie, and she was the one around the most for raising us (and lives out of state in a group home) - so I can never really gain closure by asking her why we were put in that situation. My dad's excuse was "We needed to save hot water," which is obvious bullshit because in 10 seconds I thought of the fact that our parents could have had us set timers for showers and I KNOW we had enough disposable income to pay for the heating of the water. But then he told me that his parents had him and his younger sister bathe in the same tub, and so it became obvious that he was just repeating what was done to him without examining whether or not it was necessary or healthy (the same way he beat and ignored me the way his father did to him). I haven't brought this up with my therapist yet, but there's just so much trauma I have to deal with from my past that this isn't necessarily that high on the list. That being said, it is important enough to me to reach out to this community for some insight and feedback on how to bring it up with my sister, who is now 17.