I’m all over the place. This whole week has been scary and challenging. I have really gotten into the details of the abuse with Mrs. A, and it has opened up a whole flood of memories and flashbacks. The two hours that I spent with her were not nearly long enough to unload the 12 years of abuse.
I left Tuesday’s session no longer feeling safe. I felt like a collision with a train might be the best option. (I would never do it because of my kids)
Thursday’s session was more of the same except I experienced a weird amount of anger and I was not nice to Mrs. A. Some would say I was just expressing my frustrations, etc. But it was like I became a different person in that moment. I lashed out at her. I needed her to feel my pain. I need her to stop offering solutions for one moment and just bask in the pain with me. But that didn’t happen. She offered hope and suggestions for coping, etc.
I sent her a note about an hour after the session and asked her to forgive me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. My thoughts are different. My emotions are different. My pain is intense. My fear is overwhelming, and my need to be close to someone (anyone) keeps growing.
I have always been very independent and somewhat elusive because it was easier than trusting people or learning how to let someone in on my personal ish.
I was sitting at my desk this morning, trying to hide the fact that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week and my eyes are filled with tears. They fell on my desk. I wished I could catch them and put them back. I hate, hate crying and I’m so tired of having emotions.
Being numb to it all for years, was definitely a better life.
I am tired of this journey but I know in the end I’ll be glad I did it. The problem is that when I speak out loud about these terrible things that happened to me, it becomes part of me. It becomes MY story. It becomes MY life. When I tell the details, I think she must be thinking that I’m lying. She must be thinking that it’s too awful to have actually happened. Or I’m thinking It wasn’t as painful then as it is now.
Those that have been following my journey know that it was once my goal to get it all out. To tell her EVERYTHING. In my mind, I question the whole process and whether or not it’s healthy to go thru this process.
Do I quit after three years of hard work? Or do I bear the pain and pray it gets better?
Until next time – I am being MJ everyday.