I’m so sorry I’ve been AWOL recently. This latest discovery in therapy has rocked me to the core. I am now a person abused in childhood, someone I always felt sorry for but rationalised that I never was that person. I knew what I was doing. It was my fault.
Now, I’m realising that it was not my fault, that I was fourteen, a child. I teach children who are fourteen. I don’t want them hurt, and I certainly wouldn’t blame them if someone cruel took advantage of them. Why have I been blaming me?
I’m so tired and fragile at the minute- the smallest thing sets me off. I cry at things that wouldn’t bother normal people. I was sent the third smear test reminder letter in a row today, and it floored me- I was so upset at its callous tone, it’s schoolteacher-style nagging, its overtone of disappointment. I’m fighting a battle with trauma here, and I’m struggling to cope. I’m not having it done- I’m sending the smear test refusal letter back to them. Yet another moment when someone else wants me to do something I’m not comfortable with and doesn’t understand how much pain they’re causing.
I pretty much cried all session with Dr K today. The very hurt fourteen year old was out and upset, and didn’t want to talk but just wanted to cry. I sat there, feeling very small and very afraid, and also very shameful and dirty. Dr K spent the whole session trying to calm me down and to stop me from feeling so horrific. The fourteen year old inside me wanted suicide,self harm, an end to her pain and an escape into the dark. Twenty five year old me wants peace and J and just to curl up on his chest and let him hold me. The only person allowed that close to me is him. I brook no trespass from doctors thinking they can swab me and expect me to be fine. I won’t be.
The doctor at my local surgery is the one who pointed out to me that I’m officially a person abused in childhood. She’s trying her best to help me. I’m terrified of the pain I end up in after sex, or even just when I’ve over-exercised, and she wants to help me find out what it is. She also wants to help me to report the abuse, and for that, I need an examination. I’m terrified of that too, but that one less so- that’s something I can choose to opt in or out of, to be able to tell them I can’t and leave or to be brave and do it. I have the control there. I’m just terrified that they’ll find that he scarred me and that I’m broken, or that maybe there’ll be nothing there and I will be told I’m making it all up. I’m not: I know what happened to me.
I became childlike again today, drawing on the paper Dr K had in her office, explaining all the pain and hurt in pictures. She believes that I’ve done some good today with them, that I’ve made progress and been able to explain what’s wrong and how she can help. I feel like we made progress there too. The drawings I did two weeks ago were just as powerful, the things I wrote from fourteen year old me. I’m so tired now, and all I want to do is curl up in bed and watch something pleasant.
If anyone has any advice for me over all this, I would love some. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with this and what it really means that I have parts of me. I dissociate, floating away, but I remember it all and I know that I’m there. Is this DID? I don’t know.
I need hugs, sleep, and a rest from everything. I’m so tired, everyone.