The stuff I’ve been going over with my therapist recently is so hard. I guess that we’ve finally come to the crux of the matter and it’s taking a lot out of me to tackle it.

It’s funny because I pride myself in being open about my problems and so, hopefully in turn, helping other people to be more open about their’s. But today’s session showed me how much I’m actually in denial about what’s happened to me at points in the past – or at least refuse to accept the realities of it. I can write about things but maybe that’s actually a way of distancing myself – making rational sense of things rather than actually internally tackling things and being emotionally honest with myself. And I’ve spoken about things in a way I thought was brave and honest with people who are close to me, but actually I think I’ve just emotionally blunted myself and said what I thought I was being encouraged to say, without really feeling it, without knowing what I was saying on any deeper level than my mouth moving. Maybe I thought I needed people’s reactions to make it all real when actually I needed my own. I’m a bit worried that it’s not real at all. That my memory has made it up.

Today we did some imagery and memory rescript so that we could put a different slant on my experience so that next time I access the memory, it’s not as damaging. 2bb507e739833b3f792c83b6ea89dbb7I was taken away from the moment and into my emotional happy place. And, while I ended up in floods of tears, part of me was still some distance from it all, thinking ‘imagine what things would have been like if this rescript was real’ and finding evidence for why my memory was all screwed up anyway or for why I might have been the one at fault. I was already thinking of ways I could write it down and deny it. I’m supposed to feel angry as well as sad – the only person I feel angry at is me. Still.

And here I am again, writing to you guys, when maybe I should be out walking and finding a way to be at peace with myself and my past. But I don’t feel at peace. I feel ashamed and a bit afraid. I feel like I might not be being truthful. Mostly, I feel exhausted and a little shaken.

But maybe that means I’m actually ready to start the real healing process?


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