Therapist: Why do you think you needed to visit the people and places you've been visiting?
Me: I think I might finally be ready to let everything go.
Therapist: I think you could be.Me: I don't know though. There's still a part of me that is very afraid. It's that young girl. She doesn't want to be forgotten. Is it weird that I talk about her as if she's not me? Because it doesn't feel like she's me. I know she is, but I'm someone else now.
Therapist: No, it's not weird, and I understand what you mean. Why don't you want that part of you forgotten.
Me: Because she still hurts. And letting go won't help that. Nothing can help her. What happened to her was awful. But I can't change that. I thought I could--even though I knew I really couldn't. But I wanted to. I wanted to make everything go away.
Therapist: No. It won't go away.
Me: So...I'm letting it go. But she still hurts. And she shouldn't be forgotten.
Therapist: If you feel separate from her, why do you worry about her?
Me: I don't know.
Therapist: Maybe you feel something for her? Could it be love?
Me: I don't know. Maybe.
I changed the subject. The thought of loving the little girl who rocked herself in agony on the bathroom floor is terrifying. I still don't want to love her--because I can't help her. I'm letting her down...
Me: Maybe I do love her.
Therapist: The part of you that hurts?
Me: Because she deserves to be loved. She did something amazing. She survived something awful--and she kept living.
Therapist: And she thrived.
Me: She didn't give up. Even when she wanted to. Even when it seemed easier. She was brave. I'm not--but she was.
Therapist: Very brave.
Me: I am who I am today because of her--not because of what happened to me--because of what she chose, because she was strong. People say I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't gone through the things that have happened--which is crap. But I wouldn't be who I am today if she had given up, if she stopped trying. My stupid cousin can't take credit for any part of me--but she can. Because, I suppose she is me, after all.
Therapist: So, you won. He didn't beat you.
Me: No, he didn't. She is someone worth loving. I don't want her forgotten.
Therapist: You won't forget.
Me: I won't forget, no.
I had to learn to love my Moho-ness before I could move forward...it's not the same, but the fact that you can come to this, Samantha, is just further proof that you're awesome.
ReplyDeleteNext time you and Darrin are out here for a visit, you must come to dinner and meet my little boys. Ginta's talking now!
I love these posts. Sometimes, I wish I could identify with such experiences more because they seem so strengthening and because I want that kind of character...but other times, I'm of course glad I can't identify because that would mean I'd gone through what you had, and that would be horrible. So instead, I try to learn from you and your experiences even while realizing I can't possibly grasp what it would be like to have lived it firsthand. But thanks for sharing these glimpses of your process.
ReplyDeleteI have a sister who suffered systematic sexual abuse for years before she came to our home, and I have seen its devestating effect and her long, difficult road to healing. I see in her a lot of the same strength I see in you. So while I can't pretend to know or understand what you're going through, my heart does go out to you. Also anybody giving your creepy cousin credit for your strength is like giving the Pharisees credit for the Resurrection.
ReplyDeleteThat was a beautifully put analogy, AtP! Sam, you worded something I've thought so many times and haven't been able to figure out all the way. How it isn't the person doing the horrible thing's fault that the person they did it to became who they are: it's the way that person chose to handle themselves and the situation. Thank you again, for your words. You use them so well!
ReplyDelete