Tell us about the beginning of your activity - how long ago did you realize your calling? And what does vocation mean to you?
Being born with a vocation is a kind of mission with which a person comes into earthly incarnation. My mission is to help people, so my life experience led me to a helping pro-fession. As a child, I dreamed of becoming a surgeon, operating and treating people. But due to some vital factors, physiological surgery did not work out, but in the profession of a psychologist I acquired an analytical scalpel, which I skillfully wield in the mental field of the human brain. She realized her vocation in early childhood, when at the age of five she first saw a man's adult penis.
As I now remember the pedophile uncle Misha, who came to the sandbox where we played almost every day and showed his penis. There was no physical contact, but even then I understood that I was interested in researching this topic. Sexuality in its inverted manifestation has haunted me since childhood, despite the fact that I was quite com-plex. I was constantly instilled with the theme of shame.
The fact that sex is dirty and shameful, and she got her first sexual experience through violence. Most specialists conduct their own practice only through personal experience.
After working through our traumas, we have the opportunity to help others. Everything that doesn't kill us makes us even stronger!
In your opinion, education is an indicator of professionalism and providing the best care?
A good education is necessary, and I was lucky in this regard, because my teachers were remarkable people.
Oleksandr Moiseyovych Poleev, doctor, psychotherapist, sexologist, left the biggest mark on my author's approach.
Volodymyr Antonovych Domoratsky, doctor of medical sci-ences, professor, sexologist, psychotherapist, psychiatrist, psychologist. Oleksiy Razumov is a psychologist, psycho-therapist, sexologist and founder of the Intensive Love School. Oleksandr Vitaliyovych Osadchiy, psychiatrist, psy-chotherapist.
Holinska Valentyna Oleksandrivna psychologist, psycho-therapist. I can continue the list for a long time. There were many trainings, seminars and other events, and each teacher left a part of himself in my training as a specialist psychologist and sexologist.
At what age would you like to discuss the topic of sex with your children?
A child's interest in this topic is observed at the age of 3-4, according to experts. But in my opinion, I believe that sexuality begins from the moment of birth. When parents are sure that the baby does not understand anything, and put him to sleep in bed with them or even do not hesitate to have sex in the presence of the baby. Of course, the child does not understand everything, but he already feels, his visual and auditory memory records everything. When to talk to a child about sex? Let me start with the fact that it is individual for everyone and depends on many factors of the child's upbringing and environment. Let's say, if mom or dad are not ashamed to walk around the child naked, then even at the age of two you can start explaining to him what is happening around him. Of course, the format of the explanation should be in children's language through pistils and stamens. But in no case do not say that the children were found in the cabbage or brought a stork.
Maybe there are some recommendations for parents where to start sex education?
Yes, there is a recommendation that parents start with themselves and respond to what they want to instill in their child. Many people do not know anything about their sexuality and how they can talk about it with their child.
But children are not my specialty. I work with adults, with sexual characteristics, fetishes - what most are used to calling perversions. But it is important to understand the most important thing - what is good for two in bed and does not involve violence, remains normal, because it is accepted voluntarily.
Everything that carries violence and is not accepted voluntarily, goes beyond the scope of the norm and is subject to criminal liability.
If violence is accepted voluntarily in a sado-masochistic re-lationship, this too remains the norm.
Let's talk about something that many do not dare to talk about in public - BDSM. What are the most popular myths about BDSM culture?
The biggest myth is that BDSM culture is about sex.
This myth was invented by sex maniacs, who increasingly began to cover up their crimes with the practices of BDSM culture. And inexperienced people stumble upon this myth, like a live one, who then come to me for therapy. The most vivid case in my therapeutic practice, which struck me: a twenty-four-year-old girl met a man on a thematic website.
The man took on the role of master, and the girl had an inner need for submission. She wanted to be taken care of and found a strong shoulder. It often happens when a strong father figure is absent in the family or was present for some time and then disappeared for some reason.
Every girl, woman and even grandmother wants to feel under the protection of a strong, strong, caring man.
After a long correspondence, the man came to trust the girl and invited her to his house allegedly for permanent resi-dence.
The girl decided to move, informing her relatives that she was going to live with a boyfriend, so no one was looking for her.
It all started from the moment she crossed the threshold of what later turned out to be a rented house in some remote village.
He roughly shoved her in the back and took her hard everywhere he could. Next, a gag in the mouth and hands chained with iron handcuffs to a cast-iron battery. Half a year of harsh violence almost broke the young psyche, but one day he was too drunk and forgot to chain her to the bat-tery. That's how she got out. She did not go to the police, she was afraid of publicity and she was ashamed in front of her relatives.
She didn't even tell me who he was or where he was, but the multiple scars on her body from the constant beatings suggested that this was not just a fantasy. Several years of systematic therapy gave her the opportunity to form normal relationships and even create a family.
The conclusion of such a story is that you should not trust a man or a woman just because they said that they are masters of the BDSM theme. Really good masters are very few, and psychologists in this topic are even fewer.
You write stories. What would your book be about? Or is it possible that there are already ready-made materials?
The idea to write a book came while studying with Oleksan-dr Poleev. We had a final meeting, one might say an interview before receiving the certificate, and when I told about the case of a couple in which the man is a cuckold and the woman is a sex wife, the teacher shouted enthusiastically:
"Ksenia, you at least write a brochure for us specialists!" After that, I realized that it is valuable to share my experi-ence, and then I started writing.
My book, which I plan to publish, will be called "The Story of Butterflies", a series of psychological stories with different stories. The most interesting thing about a butterfly is its incredible cycle of transformation, which is why I took such a metamorphic comparison in the title of the book.
The purpose of my book is through the stories of each butterfly
a person saw something valuable for himself.
Once a rather large moth flew into my room. Normally, this makes me very uncomfortable because I have a slight phobia, but this time there was interest, and when the butterfly landed next to me on the back of the sofa, I wanted to lightly touch its wing. With some effort she touched and soon fell asleep. When I woke up, my surprise was caused by the fact that the butterfly continued to sit in the same place, but the wing that I touched had acquired color, and it was also dark. It seemed that just the wing was dirty and my touch cleaned it. It was a rather strange incident in my life that still remains a mystery to me.
Share how the idea for a new project came about? What will surprise us?
The truth is surprising. Because BIZZARE DATING CLUB
FENIX
a unique international project that we decided to launch with my business partner, also a psychologist. The goal is to meet people who are similar to themselves. In many years of practice, I have come across the fact that it is difficult for people with special preferences to find a partner based on their interests. I have often been asked to find a partner because I have a large number of people whose secrets we carefully guard.
While maintaining confidentiality, we will unite people by in-terests, create thematic marriages, psychological support, training practitioners and conducting thematic retreats in small groups in different parts of the world. People with sexual characteristics are to understand that they are not alone in the world, and everything is fine, if it is reasonable, voluntary, safe.
Man as a puzzle system. Each person comes with experi-ence, and like scattered puzzles, his task is to assemble into a complete picture.
Inserting puzzle after puzzle, a person finds his integrity.
Many people just live, existing, without thinking about who I really am and what I want?
The prohibition of desire does not allow a person to find the important thing that he can acquire. The project was created by subject psychologists to realize secret and not quite standard desires. We create a safe environment online and offline, where you will be accepted, understood and get to know others like you. In our dating club, you can find your soul mate and even create a thematic marriage or a stable long-term relationship.
BROKEN DOLL
Broken dolls are like broken destinies
Even the most once-loved toys end up in a landfill... And the Betty doll was no exception.
Today was a warm, spring day. The sun was shining and the sky was bluer than ever.
Betty looked intently at the sky, without taking her eyes off her doll-like, occasionally blinking eyes, which were sometimes covered by her plastic eyelids.
Fortunately, she was placed face up, and not thrown carelessly into a dirty trash can.
"So they loved me after all," Betty thought for the last time, admiring the blue sky.
"Tomorrow to the landfill," Betty knew, but she tried not to think about it now, trying to enjoy the last moments.
Life swam before her eyes. Betty tried to remember everything.
How I met my very little girl Lisa for the first time, how much joy and delight there was in that moment.
How I stood on the shelf in the store in anticipation and trembling anticipation of being bought. When Lisa walked into the store with her dad, they immediately liked each other.
Children's eyes looked at the toy, and little hands took the doll in their arms for the first time, hugging it tightly and pressing it to their chest.
Dad gave the doll to his daughter as a symbol of their love.
Betty was almost always by Lisa's side. They experienced everything together - both grief and joy.
The girl grew up, but the doll was still nearby.
Today the doll fell from the balcony and its plastic leg shattered into smithereens. The girl looked at the doll with sadness, and it was time to leave.
That's how Betty ended up on top of the urn.
The sun blinded her plastic eyes, but she gazed into the blue sky.
So the day passed and night came. Rough, dirty hands lifted the doll. An old, bad-smelling homeless man, with long hair greasy from dirt, picked up the doll in his arms.
"Well, now it's time to go to the landfill," thought Betty. But fate prepared a different scenario for her.
The doll's plastic eyelids were closed. All the way she could only hear the shuffling of the feet of an old man barely moving, in worn-out shoes. Betty no longer thought about anything, she simply accepted the fact that she would soon be recycled or simply burned like ordinary garbage.
Memories of Lisa did not leave her.
For a while, Betty was lost in her thoughts, her plastic eyelids opening as she was thrown into some dark corner, onto a stinking pile of junk.
"Is this what a landfill looks like?" - Betty thought.
After some time, she realized that she was in a dark basement, a bad-smelling old man, who lifted her on an urn, where she could admire the blue sky. The sky was not visible from here.
The dark, smelly, damp basement now became her home. Lying on a pile of stinking junk, Betty continued to remember all the moments that she experienced with Lisa, and this helped her a lot in not noticing the situation around her.
It would probably be better for her to end up in a landfill, where she would be burned or recycled, than to be in this disgusting place, with a dirty old man.
But it's not for her to choose, because she's just a plastic doll with a torn off leg that has no right to vote, much less a choice.
No one knew how long her imprisonment in a damp basement with an old smelly homeless man would last.
The mice that swarmed in the basement gnawed at her plastic face.
At moments the old man took her in his arms, pressing her tightly to his chest, but then with rage he threw her back onto the stinking heap of junk, where her days passed, filled with the nightmare of her fate.
Betty resigned herself and simply accepted everything that happened to her. Realizing that she is just a plastic, tortured doll, with the mice almost eating her plastic face.
"Very soon the mice will get to my eyes, and this is even better, because I won't see all the nightmare l've found myself in," Betty thought.
Quite a bit of time passed for the doll to remain in the basement.
Maybe a few years or weeks, she didn't understand.
It seemed like an eternity had passed.
Betty lay in her memories of Lisa, suspecting nothing.
In the next corner, mice were swarming around, planning to eat up her remaining plastic eye, with which she could still see some-thing.
The rusty door to the basement creaked, but it was not the old man who entered it, but a group of people, among whom Betty recognized the familiar smell of perfume that Lisa had.
All this time, Betty kept thinking about her girl.
Betty heard people discussing among themselves that the old man had died and all his stinking junk needed to be taken to the landfill.
They turned on the light.
The old man never turned on the light. I sat in the dark for hours and muttered something under my breath.
Betty saw the girl's face bending over her. It was Lisa.
"How can this be?" - Betty thought, not trusting her one remaining plastic eye.
- This is my Betty doll! My dad gave it to me when I was a child! - the girl screamed. And the doll realized that it was really her Lisa, and it wasn't her imagination.
If the dolls had tears, Betty would have cried along with Lisa, be-cause, as it turned out later, this stinking old man was the father of the girl, who once gave her to his daughter.
It so happened that he completely lost his mind in old age, and wandered through the stinking basements.
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