Therapy is Good, but so Hard

 

We’re all a work in progress, right? And unfortunately, healing doesn’t usually come at the pace we’d like it to.

I put a lot of pressure on myself to be done with this whole mess, which basically just leaves me frustrated and mad. And then when I think I’m making pretty good progress, something new comes up.

Something new came up a few weeks ago after an EMDR appointment. I was given a little homework, which isn’t the norm, Therapy is Good, but so Hard.jpgbut I was struggling to break through some pretty big barriers (like, I started laughing uncontrollably and couldn’t stop. Laughing is my defense mechanism, and the level of my laughing was up there, so we figured I was covering for something pretty big). She wanted me to write down what happened during a specific instance of abuse. The problem? I was 3 years old at the time, so it’s not like I have a ton of memory to go off. But, I was still willing to give it a try.

***WARNING*** Some of the following content may trigger some readers. Please be mindful to your personal well-being.***

The next morning, while I was alone, I sat down and just let myself go into that place, the place of abuse that I’ve fought hard to avoid. I made progress, for sure. But I was a little shocked at everything that came up during this exercise.

Hate.

Fear.

Physical pain.

Raped (twice).

Pornography.

Gross.

Dead inside.

Wanting to die.

Disgusting.

No one cares.

Diseased.

Can’t trust.

Not lovable.

Broken.

Confused.

Alone.

There’s something wrong with me.

Fear of people knowing I’m not normal.

These were the intense emotions my 3-year-old self had to deal with, yet couldn’t and shouldn’t have had to. Some of this I’ve known, but didn’t want to believe it. With the intensity of what I was feeling, it became undeniable.

I moved in a daze the rest of that day, crying easily. It was if I was a thin sheet of glass with cracks all throughout it, and one small thing was going to shatter me to pieces and I wouldn’t be able to get myself back together. The next two days were filled with more of the same. Like everything was happening around me, and I was watching it all from a distance, trying to not fall apart. And then I went to therapy again and was able to work through some of it.

Knowing more fully what happened doesn’t change who I am, I know that. But…it really just felt like the whole foundation of who I thought I was shaken, like my whole life has been a big lie. As if that fear of people knowing something is wrong with me ballooned into something bigger, where even I questioned who I am. Luckily, I have a great husband and some friends who told me I’m still me. This knowledge doesn’t change who I am or make them think of me any differently.

Things are a bit better at the moment, however I keep hitting a barrier with my therapy because some part of me is unwilling to just let go. I think after the abuse happened, that toddler part of me checked out and another part came forward to protect, take over, and has worked hard to keep all the awfulness at bay. But now I’m an adult and I’m working to heal from those decades old wounds and it’s not easy to get that part to relinquish its control.

I don’t mean for this to sound like a downer, but it’s a good reminder that therapy and healing take time. It doesn’t come all at once, and it’s definitely not easy. I so much so wish it were easier and faster! Sometimes it even feels like you’re not progressing at all, but you are. Give yourself permission to take the time your soul needs to heal. Sexual abuse is no small thing to recover from.

Don’t give up. It’s worth it and it will get better.

 

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