I want to heal myself.
It can be a frustrating and expensive endeavor to have to find healing outside of yourself. And I understand that God doesn’t cost money and definitely is the ultimate healer, but sometimes a person needs the hands of another person God created.
It all just seems so dangerous to me.
Because…for me it HAS been dangerous. On different levels it has been dangerous, and for a time it was the highest danger. I was severely injured in my search for healing…
Healing…Healing is such a painful word for me. When I think of healing I think of pain. It hurts. This is how it has been all of my life. From the time I was a tiny tot.
And I wonder…Is it this way for everyone? Does healing always hurt?
I am learning in therapy now that healing maybe doesn’t always have to hurt, and I feel so gifted to finally have found a therapist with such healing qualities.
Those same qualities scare me. Because…why?
Because people (I guess one in particular who was in the helping/healing field) with those seeming qualities have also hurt me the worst.
Eight years ago I was hurt by a psychotherapist severely. I…can’t really seem to ever find the words for it. I haven’t been able to tell about it. I can’t even really talk about it in therapy even now. The therapist who hurt me so badly lost his license, and I later found out that I wasn’t the only one hurt by him, but that hasn’t cured the hurt. It hopefully stopped him from hurting other people so much.
At times I don’t know how that psycotherapist/abuser isn’t sitting in prison right now. But at other times I can’t get the weight of it being my fault off of me. I can’t surrender fully to either side. If he had been a boyfriend or a stranger or even a family member maybe I could comfortably classify it better. But he was my therapist. It makes everything so confusing and it wasn’t an attack of brutal force, even though the force he used was more brutal, perhaps, than what is traditionally thought of as brutal.
What is rape? I’ve gone over this so many times in my mind. When the memories blast me it reaches right up into my throat and I can’t breathe. Do you know the feeling? It gags me from the bottom up.
And that is how I have lived this experience. Mostly silently.
I’m not really angry at the person/abuser who hurt me in my search for healing (from so many other abuses.) But I need to tell. This isn’t about wanting to hurt. This is about healing.
i need to put it outside of myself somewhere so big that when it’s there, it is clearly there–so clearly not inside of me anymore.
I am ready to say to a broader audience. “LOOK. LOOK AT THIS. This is what happened.” I’m getting stronger so that maybe even me, myself, can know what happened.
I’m hurting a lot. Oh my God, I am hurting a whole lot. Lots and lots and lots and lots more than I ever even thought I could…but what’s so strange about right now is that I also feel better.
I’m healing. Maybe?
Is this what healing is?
I’ve never put the words rape with what happened to me in those dark dark places and moments in that room with him.
And nobody else has ever spoken that word for me. Nobody.
Maybe it’s because I could never tell, so how could anybody ever know.
But then I go back to what constitutes rape and is there a difference between traditional rape and non-traditional rape? Lol, I never heard those terms before, but…I don’t know.
And what about emotional rape?
I guess nobody really cares about that.
I’m sad at myself that i didn’t prosecute him. I’m sad I didn’t have the strength to stand up and say, “No! You can’t get away with this!” and I’m sad I didn’t know better when it happened to begin with. He told me it was therapy. Healing.
I only told a few sentences of things to the licensing board and it was enough for them to revoke his license so I never had to tell it all.
I am proud of myself that I finally reported it to the behavioral sciences board 4 years after it actually all took place, but I’m not proud of how it all arose to consciousness.
I hurt at myself that I hated myself so much…and for so long.
Even now the hate episodes envelop me. I stagger through my life with it.
I’m tired of staggering. I want to be a woman and healthy and strong and available to people.
Available to myself.
A significant amount of my life has been devoted to just this one event. And there are so many others hurts that brought me to this “event” in the first place. Don’t I think it’s about time to be free? I do.
I do think it’s time I got to live.
I will heal.
I’m risking my life to do it.