Talking it out

I have been to exactly 6 sessions of therapy now. Three with the initial guy and three with the woman who had been pushing the meds.

I try to rationalize not going every time.

I still think most therapists are self absorbed douche-lords (sorry to my friends and family in this profession) and I sometimes can’t help but think I could do a much better job at it which leads to bitter thoughts on profession choice which leads to even more bitter thoughts on how I didn’t really have a choice to choose a profession.

I’m not sure if it is helpful but I did have a sort of mini revelation the other day when meeting with the woman therapist. The man was always talking about himself, but she is a tiny bit more contemplative and encouraging. I’m not the kind to open up easily.

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Trust Issues

Something that is difficult to explain to those who have not lived through violation as a child is the monumental effort it requires to try to trust anyone or anything in life.

I’m fairly certain that I have never experienced a “healthy” relationship.

Ever.

I don’t even know what that means.

I wasn’t given the tools to build trust or to engage in productive connection building outside of the hell I was trying to navigate as a young child. That was my normal. My reality. My “healthy”.

I have often heard other survivors express that they feel as if they have a target on their backs. That predators, sexual or otherwise, can sense us from miles away and are able to find and easily exploit our weakness. Hurt us over and over again.

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A Place to Scream

Finally realizing I needed to be accountable to myself and release some of my childhood pain led me to writing about my past experiences.

Sharing my worst secrets and thoughts publicly was not something I ever envisioned doing. I never in my wildest imaginings thought that maybe someday anything I had to say would matter.

I’m not even a writer. I needed an outlet to try to prevent my very real and incredibly fast fall from grace from accelerating. Instead of numbing those thoughts or pretending they didn’t exist I forced myself to explore them. I wrote them down. I got them out.

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Healing from Trauma with Self-Compassion

The knife in her desk drawer was there as long as she could remember. She has no memory of when she pilfered it from the kitchen, but there it lay, next to the Bic pens and the lined looseleaf paper. But she does remember clearly why she took it and why it remained there all these years later … it made her feel safe, in an environment and a home where she felt very much in danger. This way, she knew that if he came after her again, she’d be able to defend herself.

The need to feel safe is perhaps our most basic human need.

If we feel threatened, if we feel in danger either physically or psychologically, our biology demands that we protect ourselves. Survival always comes first. So our physiology dictates that we defend ourselves either by fighting back, or the alternative – doing whatever we can to escape the danger. This might mean physically leaving the situation, if we can, or if not, leaving psychologically – finding some place to escape in our minds so that we are emotionally removed from the terror.

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