A long and painful month. 31 days and we are at the end. Is this really the end? I fear it is only the beginning. I am only just learning to sit with feelings. I am only just beginning to feel the agony and rage. I am out of my depth and overwhelmed by things I have never experienced.
First day back in therapy today and it was intense. I was practically bursting when I got there, a secret that has been killing me. After the anniversary and body memories this week, it was time to tell. Except, I can’t switch off and just tell like I used to – telling as if it happened to someone else. That responsibility and that shame, choking each and every word so they could barely escape.
It took some time, but I told. Some. What I could. Then we sat, in silence. Feeling. Hurting. Fighting the shame. And then an intense and deeply touching “it wasn’t your fault” from my T and I had to leave. Leave because it hurt too much, leave before the crying started. Tears I feared would spill so ferociously, with such force that they’d drown me in seconds.
And now I am left with pain and with shame. What I did- if you knew, would you hate me? Judge me? I justified myself over and over today- for me, I guess. The things you have to do in that situation- to get out of it and especially, to save someone else….such loathing for those actions, for what I did. I know I have to work on transferring that to the one who is really responsible. I know my T is right, I know deep down it wasn’t my fault.. I just wish the rest of me would listen and I wish I’d pushed through the agony this afternoon and stuck around for more of his reassurance.