I’m still reeling from last week’s therapy session. Memories, feelings, anxieties. I have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing as I have no one to talk or compare with. At times I feel very emotional and I find memories tend to float up randomly. Other times I find triggers and struggle to manage them. I can recognise that I’m on a journey, but I’m running this strange parallel concurrently. The mother role, organising kids, house etc, but then trying to work through this tidal wave of memories and emotions. Some feel old, but some feel like they were yesterday. Describing situations and conversations to my therapist last week brought so much back that I had buried away. The confusion and unanswered questions rise to the surface again. The pain and the desperation.
I ran into a friend of mine recently. I hadn’t seen her for a while. She is always losing her number, so maintaining contact with her is difficult. I didn’t think too much of it. Last time I saw her she had split with her partner. And these prepay phones still seem fairly popular. When I saw her she seemed stressed, distracted. She quickly told me her ex had her on ‘lock down’ had taken her bank card, her phone, and was taking her out to her visits. This run in happened in a pharmacy. She told me nervously he was waiting outside. I told her she needed to leave, but she’s lost her jobs because he wouldn’t let her go out. I asked her to call the police. But she’s scared that social services will get involved and take her kids. I’ve told her that there are agencies that can help her – I used to work for them ages ago. I want her to be safe. She seemed to be considering it. I told her that no one deserved to live like this. She told me he was coming. And sure enough he was making his way toward us. I didn’t intend on being polite but I wasn’t going to make her life more difficult. I nodded and went to the counter for my prescription. I watched the interaction between the two. As he walked back outside I quickly scrawled my number on some paper and gave it to her. I told her I would offer help, whatever she needed. And than reminded her that no one deserved to be treated like that. She told me thanks and hurried away.
I got back into my car. No one would guess that this woman was in this particular situation. She’s outgoing, assertive, gregarious, loud. There is this stereotype of someone more submissive, quieter, the easier target. My heart breaks for this woman.
Equally I am reminded of my own relationship. My first real relationship after everything that had happened to me. The degradation, the shaminig. Using my history against me. My ‘punishment’ when I had been bad. Being locked away. Being dependant upon him for basic needs. That is what I thought my total worth was. Afraid to sleep because of what might happen. Hands around the throat, things being done that he knows you hate to teach you that you are his. That angry guttural noise.
I do have this overwhelming need to reach out and help as many people as I can. Because at not one stage, NOT ONE STAGE, did anyone ever tell me I didn’t deserve any of what happened to me. And it’s too late for me now. Why would you put cream on an old scar?