I briefly brought Jeans up to date on the goings on since we last met. But I highlighted something I’d not really realised before – that when I’d spoken to the Principal I’d remained present the whole time – I hadn’t disassociated. He also brought it home that I was identifying a place that I’d been able to speak openly and honestly and done that. I’d not hidden away my past. I’d faced it. Progress?
I admitted that my week as a whole had been difficult with nightmares and flashbacks and intrusive thoughts. He told me to expect that as we were working so hard.
The conversation gravitated – (or perhaps I pulled it) to my ex. I feel the relationship was intrinsically linked to the attack because I’d confided in him. Because he kept me ‘safe’
I never identified the relationship as abusive. He started off as controlling. But I wanted to keep him happy and more importantly I wanted him to keep me safe.
I never intended to go into detail with Jeans. I wanted to summarise some aspects. Certainly avoid the humiliating aspects.
I began to disassociate. My peripheral vision was gone. Time, space no longer existed. I drifted between my ex’s bedroom and blackness. Him shoving me onto the bed. Telling me to fight him off or else I wanted it. Forcing himself on me over and over so that I was in physical agony.
I had a body memory there in the therapy room. Jeans must have seen pain in my face. He asked if I was feeling it. I felt ashamed and humiliated and I told him that and yes I felt pain. He told me to bear with it. To breathe and that it would pass.
I had an urge to cry out, ‘FUCK YOU’ and curl into a ball on the floor. I hurt so badly. My minds eye forcing me to view the things my ex did. Forcing me to remember he didn’t want to me shower. When I was upset he would say, ‘I’m not ‘him” referring to my attacker. He was insulted that I would react in a way to imply that he or I was dirty or injured.
I was a nothing. Tossed around the bed. His pleasure.
My vision was barely a pin prick. Jeans was trying to talk me back.
I felt so lost in all of it. I was the closest I’ve ever been since it happened. None of it made sense.
Jeans and I walked around the room. I kind of swayed and hobbled and wondered if I might throw up. I don’t remember much of the goodbye. I was still a bit out of it.
I lasted my session. I didn’t talk my way out of it. I faced a demon. I realise this week might be wobbly.
But I faced this memory full on.
FUCK YOU MEMORY!