I hate this.

Her: Would it be safe to say that you feel, no matter how much work you've done, you keep ending up in the same place?
Me: Maybe.
Her: Why do you think that is?
Me: Because I'm a masochist.
Her: Try again?
Me: I know why. I don't want to say it.
Her: Why?
Me: Because it sucks that I'm still here.
Her: Saying what the problem is won't make that any worse.
Me: I know. I still don't want to.
Her: Okay.
Me: Look, I've done this. I been over and over the abuse crap. I don't want to do it anymore.
Her: I believe you've done a great deal. And you're right--it sucks and it hurts. But you're not finished.
Me: Why? I want to be finished.
Her: You keep saying that. It's not something you just choose. When you talk about things that hurt, sometimes you cry a little, but you don't allow yourself to stay there. You shut it down, laugh a bit, and try to move forward. That's what's holding you back.
Me: The fact that I'm trying to move forward? That makes no sense.
Her: Because you believe you can solve this while avoiding anything that makes you uncomfortable. You've been avoiding emotions, fairly successfully, I might add, for most of your life. But they're still there. And they're tired of being ignored.
Me: I really don't understand what you're saying.
Her: Partly because it makes you uncomfortable. But you've made some good observations today. You didn't admit, in the beginning, that you actually told your cousin to stop hurting you. You didn't admit that because in your eyes, it made you feel weak. Only now, when you've accepted the fact that, physically, a tiny girl has no defense against a well-built teen, especially one for whom she felt friendship and love, are you able to admit that he ignored your efforts to stop him. But as you speak of this, I see many emotions flowing from you, and you stop them before they are expressed.
Me: I don't know how to express them.
Her: Sometimes you just need to allow them to be. Tell me one of the strongest feelings you experience regularly, but shut down because it's uncomfortable.
Me: I don't want to.
Her: Okay. I understand that even talking about it can be stressful.
Me: I suppose loneliness. But that's stupid, because I'm the last person in the world who should be lonely. I have a hugely supportive and present husband, my kids are also very supportive. I have people online or in person who will talk to me. I have no reason to feel lonely.
Her: Good. So when the emotion comes, rather than telling yourself that you have no right to feel it, I think you should try letting it just be.
Me: No.
Her: Why?
Me: That's miserable. I have better things to do.
Her: Emotions are interesting things. They usually bring some sort of message to us. It's good to try to figure out what our emotions are trying to tell us.
Me: I don't know how to do that.
Her: Well, this might sound silly, but some people write a letter to the emotion: Dear Loneliness, I'm feeling you more often lately. When you come I also feel (name emotion) and (name any other emotions that might be in attendance). Another time I felt you in my life was when (describe event)....
Me: (laughing) No.
Her: Too abstract?
Me: Definitely.
Her: Well, the more practical way to do this is simply to pick the feeling apart. Talk about contributing factors, accompanying emotions, past events that brought forth the emotion. You can even chart it if that makes you feel safer. But the point is that you need to notice that you're feeling it and then give yourself permission to feel and to try to understand. Pushing the emotion away will only ensure that it reasserts itself repeatedly.
Me: I don't want to feel these things.
Her: I know.
Me: I have to do this?
Her: At some point, yes, I think you do. You can choose if it's now or later. But you also keep saying you want to be finished, as if you can just leap from the starting point to the finish line. That's not how it works. There are no short-cuts.
Me: It's going to hurt.
Her: Probably. But you're very strong. I think you can do this.
Me: I think I'll go now.
Her: Okay.

Recommended reading: The Courage to Heal, Bass and Davis