Today I had two back to back therapy sessions: one for marriage counseling and the other with my trauma therapist. This has never happened before, but I have a lot going on right now. The plan was to cancel my appointment with my trauma therapist if I wasn’t actively working on trauma stuff. However, I ended up having a lot of trauma stuff come up this week.
Earlier this week, I wrote a letter to my mom and read it in therapy. This ended up being a great release for all of the resentment I’ve been harboring this past week or so (or maybe forever). Since that session though, I’ve really struggled with trauma memories. One in particular came up multiple times this week, including during sex. I decided that today, I would write that memory down during therapy and read it out loud.
This particular memory is one of the worst memories I have. It was physically very painful and, perhaps as a result, comes up more frequently than others. I have written and written about this memory. Writing it today was not much different. There is a part in this memory where I am walking down the hallway. Today when I wrote that part, and again when I read it, the hallway looked and felt so much darker than I had ever realized before. I was immersed in the darkness.
I had a really difficult time staying present today, both when I wrote the memory down and when I read it. I felt every bit of 8 years old. When I finished reading, I curled up onto my bolster and my therapist weighed me down with sandbags. It took me several minutes to be able regulate my breath. When I finally sat up, I looked at my therapist and started to cry.
When I look at the girl in these memories, the one that he hurts, she is so brave! How could she possibly endure these things at such a young age, all alone?! She was courageous.