Completing the Puzzle

I was trying to start this post for about an hour now. Not really sure how to start and moreover, if I should be doing that at work..

A while ago I had the first memory of sexual abuse, I wrote about it in my post Finding the Pieces. Two days ago after an already exhausting day and the mind shift I had to do in the night, I remembered more. Again, I won't go into detail here, still I will lable this post as *possibly triggering*.

After successfully telling my old believe system to shut up, I went back to bed and tried to sleep. Suddenly I had this feeling again. The feeling of being held somewhere against my will. The feeling is hard to explain. It was so familiar and so real without me being able to connect it with a place or circumstances. I felt a room without windows, it was cool eventhough it was summer and I couldn't move my arms. My face was hot and burning because I was hit. There were people there, older than me but children.

At that point I stopped myself from going deeper into it. I was too exhausted from the events of the day. I took a pill and slept more or less good. I was also too scared I wouldn't be able to deal with the whole truth at that moment.

I dreamed. I was showing someone the house of the girl that came to pick me up that day, supposedly to play. I looked at it and I set it on fire with my mind. It burned immediately and there was still someone in it. Then I turned my head towards the house in which basement it all happened and the house was already burned down. It was black and there was not really anything left except the foundation. There was no fire, only the black walls. And I was glad it looked like that. Then I woke up.

Yesterday I had therapy in the morning, just after all this happened. All I wanted was to talk about it, so I summerized the day and went straight to the emerging memories. I told P what I started remembering and she offered to go there together and see where these memories will take us.

The first thing I remembered a while ago was that there was a little girl and I was the one witnessing her being sexually abused. This time the memories were only about myself. The room, my arms being tied to something, people, my hot, burning face and being naked. As I mentioned I won't go into details, I will try to summerize the events and write about my feelings instead.

I was hit, forced to do something I didn't want to do and humiliated. As far as I remember now - I'm certain that I still don't remember all of it - I was not touched or raped. And yes, I still call it sexual abuse becuase I don't know what else to call it. Where does sexual abuse start? Who is deciding that? For me it was sexual abuse because it influenced my sexual identity, self-image as a woman and behaviour greatly. I can now finally understand the problems I have when I go to the gynecologist. I understand the line of thoughts I had when I was younger. What happened gave me the feeling and believe that I was not normal, that something was wrong with me. This believe influenced everything because I never told anyone. Nobody told me that I'm OK. After what happened I had to go home, back to a dangerous and threatening environment. I didn't know that what happened wasn't my fault. During it I didn't know if it would ever end. I didn't know if that would happen again. Nobody was there to tell me that I was save, because I wasn't save. Instead of going home to safety I had to go from one abusive situation to the other.

There was no little girl who I saw being abused, it was me. It's hard to comprehend that my mind made that exchange in order to protect me. When I went home I felt so ashamed and guilty. Is it possible that my mind told me like this that I was one of the 'offenders' (eventhough only witnessing it) to make sense of the guilt and shame I felt? I don't know.

I don't remember who were my abusers, except for the girl that picked me up from my parent's house. I don't see any faces, but I know there were more than two persons there. I can still feel and almost hear them having fun with what they are doing. I can still hear and feel them laughing. They are enjoying the power they have over me. In the end this is all about power.

It was the first time I cried during therapy. I'm so glad that I had the chance to be guided through the process of remembering. With P it was much easier to comprehend that this little girl was me. P also asked me what I would do if I was there now. Would I be angry? What would I do? I would tell them to stop, scream at them and immediately take care of that little girl. The thing that seemed to be most important for me was to dress the little girl. Take it out of the house, out of this situation and tell her that something like that will never happen again. That it was wrong and that there is nothing to be ashamed of or to feel guilty about. I would tell her, she is save now. This last part is the one that is the most important for me to tell her. I never had a save place to go.

After therapy P told me for the first time that I was doing great and that she is proud of me. Eventhough I know it, I really needed to hear that. I'm still not good. This new knowledge is working inside of me and it is hard. Still, I can feel that it doesn't overwhelm me. I can deal with it and I'm coping very well.

It will take time to be able to say I sorted all the feelings out that are connected to what happened, but I know I'll be fine. On Monday I will have the next therapy session so I'm also getting taken care of in that sense. I am not working all day today (as it was planned). I will take as much time for myself as I need to have. I will eat well and I will not worry about the last exam that is coming on Monday.

I am taking care of myself.