I am sorry that I have not written lately. I have been over-whelmed with therapy. It is a lot harder than I ever
thought it would be. I will tell you what was so difficult but to those who get triggered easily you might
think twice before reading, I don’t usually go into detail about things but I think I need to be brave because
each time I talk about it….it becomes more and more desensitized I get. My therapist would say EMDR takes
the charge off the memory so that the PTSD symptoms eventually go away. I will always have the
memories but without the strong emotion that used to come out.
Ok so here is just one of the many stories that I have to tell about the past.
I was just eight years old. My Mom was out of the house visiting a neighbor.
My brothers were outside playing. My sister was away to a special school for the blind.
Well I ran in the house to wash my hands but my father, knowing that everyone else was
outside called me upstairs. He took my hand and brought me into the bathroom and then
locked the door. He opened the door to the closet. There are lots of shelves. He reached
up to the top shelf and took down a small book. It had pictures in it. They were disgusting pictures,
He turned the page in the book that he wanted me to see. Actually he wanted me to do it to him.
I would not. So he pulled me close and put his penis in my mouth and started to pleasure himself.
I was crying and trying to get away but he was holding both of my arms tightly. I threw-up
all over him. He got angry with me. Made me clean it all up. Then he took off all of my clothes
and his. He picked me up and had me look at my reflection in the mirror. I wanted to close my eyes.
He said don’t we look great together? I did not say a word. He put me down and had me get dressed.
He said, “remember this is our little secret”. He unlocked the door and let me out. I went to my
room across the hall from the bathroom and hid in the corner and cried. I was to scared to tell
anyone. This is just one of the myriad of things he inflicted on me through all the years of my
childhood. Its no wonder that I don’t like mirrors.
I encourage others to be brave and share their stories.
I would really love to hear them. Find your voice.