I haven’t written since Friday because I’m trying to digest what happened in my therapy session on that day.
I went into it with a determination to start getting out all of this toxic waste I have stored in my head and heart. I wasn’t sure I could do it, since I have been trying for 14 months now.
This stuff has been stored in me for more than 40 years. No outlet. No exit wounds. Just stuffing it further down with things that only silenced the pain. There were many things I did to hide it. I did many things to keep the world from knowing how much waste was brewing inside.
At times, I felt I was free, but never because I had talked about it. Only because I had managed to put it away for a while. The problem is that since I never let it out, it never went away.
I guess I should be proud that I was able to at least start to share the “stuff”. But it’s a lot like opening Pandora’s box. You share one memory and dozens more come to your mind. Then come the nightmares and the flashbacks. The real time live memories, like it happened yesterday.
As I am recovering memories, I realize how much I had minimized each event. I would say to myself, “Oh, that one wasn’t as bad as the other one”, etc. The truth is that each time, I lost a piece of me. Each time, one more shred of innocence was taken.
We all start out with a certain amount childhood innocence. We are vulnerable and open to life and learning. We are like clay waiting to be molded. We are like a canvas waiting to be painted. For me, it only took one event to change that clay to stone. My canvas had black paint scattered all over it, before I could even begin to paint my picture of my childhood.
Once that happened, there was no going back. There was no way to find another blank canvas. I couldn’t just ask for a do-over. I couldn’t be put back into a womb and have a rebirth. God, how I prayed for a new life or an early death many times. I just wanted any other life besides my own.
I left out many details in my sessions with Ms. A for several reasons. One, I thought that some of them were insignificant. And two, I thought some details were just too unbelievable. Usually, when I’m telling her something, I can’t look directly at her.. for fear of what her expression might be. Would it be disbelief? Or sadness? Or anger?
Since my memories of disclosing (the very few details that I did share) are so awful, I just never wanted to take the chance again.
Now, my biggest challenge is to forgive myself for being innocent. Forgive myself for being a child. Forgive myself for not protecting myself. I could never begin to be angry at those adults that didn’t protect me. I just gave them a free pass.
Putting it all into perspective as an adult is the most confusing and hardest thing I’ve had to do. Each time a flashback comes, I’m 5 years old again. I’m so small and insignificant.
My biggest obstacle now is loving that 5 year old and realizing that she can no longer be hurt. More than that, learning to love the adult that I am now and recognizing what an amazing story of survival I have to tell.
I’m here to tell the story and that in itself is a miracle. Thank you for taking this journey with me.
Until next time – I am being MJ every day.