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My tumblr blog post for the evening, if anyone cares to read.
http://artlifehealing.tumblr.com/
I had my session yesterday, and by the time I got home, I was just drained. Exhausted.
My session was hard. More than painful. Because I told.
I said those words. As hard as it was, I spoke them.
And then Dr K and I talked about those words.
And then I realized some things.
He was vile. Seeing, on paper, the words he spoke to me, reading them over and over. Makes me realize just how vile he was. But still, I keep hearing them, over and over. It is like being in hell, reading my writing every day.
It seems there are two different areas of the rapes that I am dealing with. The physical. And his words.
The physical was scary. Overwhelmingly scary. Reading what I wrote about how he attacked me on a physical level, it still fills me with that feeling of fear. That feeling of being trapped. Anxiety.
His words. On some levels, his words are so much harder for me. Every single word he spoke was like this huge attack on me, on my psyche. All of these ways that I feel about myself, what I believe about myself, how much I hate myself. That's what his words did to me. And when I read them, I feel the humiliation. Shame. Pain. Sadness.
I have had tears every day over this past week or so. Reading my writing just fills me with this sadness. Maybe it is mourning? I don't know. I don't think I ever really mourned what he took from me.
But reading my writing also fills me with this anger. At him. At myself. At my ex. Which I wasn't really aware of. But it's like this huge contradiction. The last thing I wanted was for my ex to see me that night. The last thing I wanted was for him to know. And I was thankful that he was passed out from drinking when I got home.
But at the same time, to have had him conscious, to have felt like I could have gone to him and felt protected. And I never could have had that with him, had I wanted to open up to him and let him know what happened. No, there he was, all passed out.
Ultimately, I am thankful he was passed out.
I also have realized, and shared with Dr K, that when I read my writing to her each time, and when I have worked on it and read it to myself, I try as hard as I can to stay detached. She told me that she wants me to let the feelings come. But I have tried to stay detached emotionally. The feelings are so scary, overwhelming.
This work is bringing up so much. Yesterday was the hardest session so far. I hope that I can be brave enough to continue.
http://artlifehealing.tumblr.com/
I had my session yesterday, and by the time I got home, I was just drained. Exhausted.
My session was hard. More than painful. Because I told.
I said those words. As hard as it was, I spoke them.
And then Dr K and I talked about those words.
And then I realized some things.
He was vile. Seeing, on paper, the words he spoke to me, reading them over and over. Makes me realize just how vile he was. But still, I keep hearing them, over and over. It is like being in hell, reading my writing every day.
It seems there are two different areas of the rapes that I am dealing with. The physical. And his words.
The physical was scary. Overwhelmingly scary. Reading what I wrote about how he attacked me on a physical level, it still fills me with that feeling of fear. That feeling of being trapped. Anxiety.
His words. On some levels, his words are so much harder for me. Every single word he spoke was like this huge attack on me, on my psyche. All of these ways that I feel about myself, what I believe about myself, how much I hate myself. That's what his words did to me. And when I read them, I feel the humiliation. Shame. Pain. Sadness.
I have had tears every day over this past week or so. Reading my writing just fills me with this sadness. Maybe it is mourning? I don't know. I don't think I ever really mourned what he took from me.
But reading my writing also fills me with this anger. At him. At myself. At my ex. Which I wasn't really aware of. But it's like this huge contradiction. The last thing I wanted was for my ex to see me that night. The last thing I wanted was for him to know. And I was thankful that he was passed out from drinking when I got home.
But at the same time, to have had him conscious, to have felt like I could have gone to him and felt protected. And I never could have had that with him, had I wanted to open up to him and let him know what happened. No, there he was, all passed out.
Ultimately, I am thankful he was passed out.
I also have realized, and shared with Dr K, that when I read my writing to her each time, and when I have worked on it and read it to myself, I try as hard as I can to stay detached. She told me that she wants me to let the feelings come. But I have tried to stay detached emotionally. The feelings are so scary, overwhelming.
This work is bringing up so much. Yesterday was the hardest session so far. I hope that I can be brave enough to continue.
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My heart goes out to you. 
Untangling-It-All,
17 August 2012 - 05:06 PM
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