As I sit on the floor of my new Therapists office with my knees pulled up and my book and pen ready in case my hands need to scribble – they always need to scribble – I am very aware that something is different.
She can feel it too. Something has shifted in our relationship over the past week or two.
No longer am I going in all walls and defences up, so matter of fact about things. No, slowly, those walls are starting to come down. I am starting to let her in. To let her see the real me. To let her see just how much trauma and how much pain and sadness are really locked inside.
I didn’t plan for this shift to happen. I mean, I didn’t know it was going to. It just kind of happened. Like all of a sudden my brain decided to listen to my heart; ‘’You can trust her. Let her in’’. Then bam! Just like that the dynamic of our relationship changed. I changed.
I didn’t think that it would ever happen again. That I would ever be able to trust another therapist the way that I trusted my previous one at Rape Crisis. For she had been the first one who had ever truly wanted to listen, to help me. The first one who I had trusted 100% with my inner most demons – before our time was up due to funding.
I never thought that my heart would be open to trusting another. Especially so soon. For when my walls go up, they go up high and firm and they are difficult to break through, even for a professional!
There is still a lot of hurt and distrust locked inside of me, and I do not make it easy, but maybe things are shifting within me too. Maybe I am becoming strong enough to know that more than one professional will be needed to help me heal throughout this journey. Maybe I am becoming strong enough to know that I am somehow going to have to learn to try to trust them.
Subconsciously I try to fight it; the trust, the want to let her in. For it scares me to death. It makes me incredibly vulnerable to getting hurt again.
I sit in front of her, my heart pounding, feeling like at any moment I am going to burst into floods of tears, feeling like I am about to hyperventilate. My lips want to tell her the memory playing out in front of my eyes like an old movie but I am terrified, just waiting for something bad to happen. Terrified that I will react badly to what I tell her, or that, for some unknown reason, she will be angry with me.
However, as much as I try to fight it, I slowly begin to let go, I slowly begin to believe in her and in how kind she is. For I cannot deny her kindness, I know she wants to help me. She calms me as she sits on the floor opposite me and quietly tells me that it is OK, I am safe. I can tell her what I remember or I can come back to the here and now. I have a choice. She always gives me a choice.
As a child I never had a choice. As an adult I never believed that I had a choice. Now I am shifting. I am not the same person that I was four years ago when I reported my abuser. I have a choice.
Where I once remained quiet, I am now speaking my truth. I am beginning to understand the value of my voice.
Things in my life are beginning to shift. Some things I have control over and others I do not. Of the the things that I do not have control, well I have to believe that they are teaching me how to let go. Just like I had to let go of my last therapist and I am having to trust my new one.
I am shifting a little at a time and I am no longer completely lost or full of worthlessness. Finally I am beginning to see my worth. And as I continue to shift further from my past and edge closer into my future, I am beginning to see that maybe pain and trauma is not all my life was ever meant to be.
I can still see the darkness, at times I even still relive it, but now I am gaining the ability to sit present in that darkness, knowing that eventually things will shift again and the light will shine once more.
Thanks for reading.
** Image courtesy of Google Images **