Friday, March 9, 2012

Brain Drain


Last night session was different than I have ever done before.  In other sessions I have relived my past which put me back there as a terrified child struggling to survive.  I have also told events with no emotion or connection to anything I felt.  A soulless observer stating information that may or may not be real memories but I didn't give a shit which way that was, just saying what popped into my mind like reading from a script that you don't like the main character so if they live or die is a non-issue.  Last night I owned my story.  Before I started, Newcounselor and I hammered out some very specific rules.  I am telling my story in chronological ordered and I can feel the adult rage at how I was treated as a child.  Rage at seeing a child brutalized is an appropriate reaction.  I should feel angry because of how I was hurt and terrorized for their pleasure.  I should feel outraged that I was neglected and left vulnerable to a neighborhood sicko that enjoyed hurting children.  I should feel the intense feelings that I didn't have time to feel as a child scrambling to survive.  This is MY STORY and I own it.  Last night I told parts I had already discussed before practicing how to do this.  I ended up only talking about 15 minutes about my past.  Then decompressing and setting my story aside.  I walked out thinking that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  Then I got in my car and screamed, "That lousy son of a bitch."  I was not referring to my counselor.  I was feeling the intense rage that anyone should feel towards a monster disguised as a person.  I realized, "Oh dear.  I so am not OK."  I carefully drove across the street to a fabric store and found a costume pattern for my daughter.  I then ate a calorie laden dinner with a soda.  I could hear my arteries hardening as I munched down on sour dough, bacon, and whopping slices of tomato.  I was very calm as I drove home.  Then stared blankly at my computer as I played solitaire.  This is just the beginning.  I am so glad that I am going to have a week off work.  I don't get to focus on my past so I am keeping myself busy, busy, busy with playing with grandkids and family at the top of my list.  By damn, over this next couple of months, I am going to own my story and be damned thankful the bastard is already dead.  Better to keep me out of jail. 


mulderfan said...

I'm glad you're letting it out! Righteous rage is what I call it. A normal, healthy reaction to the abuse if an innocent, helpless child.

Hugs P/M

Ruth said...


Kiki said...


I don't know what to say, hon, except ((((((hugs))))))))))) ... and that anger is understandable. So understandable.

And we do need to own our stories---but not the guilt for letting ourselves abused. We don't own the shame and guilt. It's not ours, but belongs to the abusers.

Laurel Hawkes said...


Ruth said...

Thanks Kiki and Laurel.

inviziblepain said...

Hi, Ruth, LOVE that you are OWNING it! Do not let it own you anymore!

Ruth said...

Good point IP. Thanks.

Evan said...

Wonderful Ruth. This is so great to hear.

I have you have some good ways to express that rage. I guess you and NewCounselor will have talked about this.