Earlier this week I told the therapist that I think maybe I want to take a break from therapy.  Monday’s session was tumultuous and I left frustrated and *unheard*.  On Tuesday, I continued to try to work on the therapy homework assignment from about a month ago and it did not go real well and ended with me in a massive state of panic, but stopped short of injuring myself further.   I was incredibly frustrated and feeling rather wounded so I thought may be a break from therapy would be best.  And anyway, I knew that due to the high level of shame I have been feeling,  I would never be able to actually speak to the therapist about any of it. 

Thursday night, I sent an email to the therapist expressing my thoughts and feelings about the most recent weeks and that I really feel overwhelmed and ready to run, give up, end all of this craziness.  Fear courses through my body when I think of talking to her about any of the things related to her most recent pressure to discuss the big s-e-x, specifically the things that trigger the 5 year old into a dissociative state of hell.  Honestly, I am ashamed that she knows anything at all, and I am angry with her for having pressured me into talking about any of it in the first place because now everything around me has crumbled, and now I am sitting in the middle of all of the toxic pieces of my life and it is poisoning me.

This is not to imply that the specifics of the weekend activities is actually healthy for me, and does not need to be addressed, but frankly I feel like wearing an idiot sign for not even acknowledging or realizing just exactly what it was I was doing to myself.  See, I carefully constructed this house of cards and suddenly the therapist turned into Marsha Brady and knocked the whole thing down with her bracelet, in one huge swoop!  Or maybe that was Jan…honestly, I’m not sure…but whether it was Jan or Marsha really isn’t important….it happened.  What is important is that I am now sitting here in the middle of these cards that used to be my *house* and I have no idea how to rebuild what was torn down. 

See, when you are fucked as a kid, your view of sex gets all fucked up (pardon the choice of words), and the rules you learned when you were 5 years old are the rules you continue to play by.  When I was a kid I told myself over and over again that he could do what he wanted to do with my body, and, believe me, he did…but no matter what, he would never touch my mind.  I learned that I could have sex with my body, and ‘go away’ in my mind.  I learned that all men wanted from me was sex anyway, that’s what he taught me – that’s the only thing I was good for.  Why would that be different now?  So I have recreated the past in the present…I’m not sure if recreated is actually the right term, I don’t think I’ve ever known anything different.  So I continue to do things that I have always done, and I still just *go away*.  But even if I dissociate it all away, it still comes back later.  And sometimes “later” is even during!  And with it comes all the flashbacks and body memories of the past, as well as the overwhelming feelings of shame and embarrassment and feelings of worthlessness.

But right now, I feel so ashamed about all of this that I can’t imagine sitting in her office, actually looking at her, face to face, and talking about any of this.  I can’t imagine she can actually sit there, understand, hear me, and not judge me (she is human, you know).  So I want to run away from her because I can’t deal with any of this and she is trying to make me talk and I know she cannot hear or accept what I really need to say (if I could talk). I’m totally embarrassed just from the email I sent to her of the *homework* assignment she gave!  

This morning I had a voicemail from the therapist letting me know she did get my email, and that she does understands that I might be feeling overwhelmed from everything and that she also understood my feelings of shame and embarrassment because of my history.  She offered to meet today (Friday) since she knew I was feeling afraid and overwhelmed in the middle of all of this and…because it’s Friday!  (I hate Fridays!).   I so appreciated her voicemail this morning, and the fact that she took the time to leave me a voicemail to let me know she got my email, and offering to meet today.  But I’m still afraid to talk to her about this, face to face.  Despite her voicemail, letting me know that she did hear me, and she does care, the shame meter is still pointing to *full*, and I’m not sure I can talk about the content of the email now. 
Funny how what is done in the dark – feels much more shameful in the light.  But yeah, I think my anger and fear and feeling like I need to run away from the therapist right now are because of the shame and embarrassment of the content of the material that she and I both know needs to be brought to the light.  She pushes me because she cares, but I still want to run out of fear of what she will think of me if/when all of this is brought to light.  What if we do talk about this and she does see me as I often see myself… Can I risk that?  How can I get past all the Fear, Shame, Embarrassment, Sadness…