As I shared earlier, the last couple of weeks in therapy have been me telling Mrs. A my life long secrets. A few weeks ago we decided to start talking about one abuser at a time, instead of a little bit of each one here and there.
The good thing about this process has been the more focused sessions. Although, a few of them were incredibly difficult and made me feel like giving up.
But, I am determined to share every memory that comes up regarding this person, and try to leave no stone unturned.
Since this abuse was in my later teenage years, I always blamed myself and never ever told anyone.
Mrs. A is helping me to make sense of the guilt of thinking that I allowed these things to happen.
The truth is that I did allow these things because I was trying to survive. And because there had already been several other abusers, I thought this was just why I was born. I thought since I was such an awful person, I thought I deserved the unspeakable.
Anyway, as I’m recalling these events, more come to my mind. This particular person was in my life for about 1 year, so there are plenty of events.
But the weirdest thing is happening and it’s so frustrating.
I can feel the same feelings I felt in my body during those times. Stomach ache, heart racing, adrenaline, tears welling up and trying to swallow that lump in my throat.
If you have ever been almost in a car accident or really scared by someone coming up behind you, then you know what I’m talking about.
But now, every night when I get in my bed, I feel sick to my stomach. Literally. It’s the worst kind of PTSD because it’s just there. I don’t go to bed thinking negative thoughts but my body does.
I’m super frustrated but keep trying to remind myself that I’m doing the right thing by talking about it.
Am I doing the right thing? I feel almost stuck now. Like I have opened Pandora’s box and now I don’t know how to close it, or make it all fit back inside.
Have you ever seen those space bags for storage? It’s like that. If you let the air in, what’s inside becomes huge and will no longer fit in the bag.
So I’ll go back tomorrow and share a little more. As painful as it will be. But I can’t put it away now. It’s too late. It’s too big.
Until next time – I am being MJ every day.