I saw Jeans (my therapist) on Tuesday. I’m going head into this. Going against my urge just to crack jokes and hide away from the anguish. I want it out of me. It’s not easy. I spend my life avoiding the hard stuff. Either causing arguments or distractions, cracking jokes, keeping busy. Anything to avoid the pain or hard truths.
I showed him my poem.
I wrote it in a blog entry ‘The Poem’ – those clever bloggers would make some sort of link there – I don’t know how.
Anyway he read it. A few times. Then he told me next week we should analyse it and go over it. It will be tough he warned, it’s pretty graphic and out there. Am I ready? He looked me directly in the eye. I wanted to look away. I wanted to make a joke. I considered never seeing him again. But I said yes and I knew I meant it.
The running is over for me.
I feel unclean, ashamed and angry. I wish every single day I could go back in time and change things. I’m tired of feeling different. I have my mental health issues which I’m not ashamed of or embarrassed about. I will tell anyone that I take medication and I have no problem admitting to be hospitalised. My husband and I will even joke about some things. I will do everything to break down the stigma attached to mental illness.
But the fact that some monster forced himself on me? That two decades on I still have nightmares about it and can remember things as though it was yesterday. That I can’t talk about or deal with it.
That my ex boyfriend used to enjoy treating me like his property for his use at his disposal when/how he wanted.
The things that go unspoken. The fear in the night. The memories, the nightmares. The pain, regrets and sadness.
No one held me as a young girl all those years and told me it was going to be all right. That I was safe. That it didn’t have to be like that.
As a mother I watch my daughters growing up and I talk openly with them, I want them to feel safe, secure, never confused, never alone, always loved. Always able to talk about anything any time. And I feel a sadness within me. A longing and grief that the child within me was never given that.
I’ve tried to ignore the past. Acknowledge and move on. But nothing really works. It sits there so painfully.
I’m going to try the different techniques Jeans has said we are going to try. From role play to walking?! – he apparently has many methods to get even the more repressed to open up!
I think I’m being more triggered at the moment because my daughter is becoming more aware and asking more questions. I also think I’m getting to a stage in my life where something needs to give. I simply can’t keep on with all of this grief and hate and pain in my soul anymore.
I just want my life.