The Forgotten Place

I had a bit of a breakdown last night. I was in therapy yesterday, and my therapist commented that I seem somewhat comfortable talking about the memories of what actually happened, but less comfortable talking about how I felt during the memory. The answer is fairly simple.  When I was being abused, I had to disassociate from myself. I had to shut off the part of my brain that was screaming inside and horrified at the reality of what was happening for my own sanity. If I were to succumb to the horror, I would not be able to continue on in the farce that was my life. I was already barely functioning as a student. I don't think I would even be able to go to school if I faced reality. I don't think I would be able to move. I honestly think I would have just collapsed, and probably would have ended up in the hospital. But that wasn't an option. I had to keep up the (unconvincing) image of a happy family.

When I first disclosed the abuse, some people commented that they were shocked because they thought I was a "happy, well-adjusted kid". They were wrong. Over the years I had developed extremely effective coping skills. Those skills kept me safe. But now I can't let them go. I CAN'T LET GO...of anything. I have to be in complete control. This manifests itself in almost every area of my life. I can't dance. This sounds unimportant and even common, but let me explain. Freshman year, my husband and I were at a Christian concert that was part of a retreat we were volunteering at. The crowd was moving to the music and having a great time, but I was beyond uncomfortable. I can't let my body relax enough to move with music. I can't let go. Vaginismus is, in essence, the inability to relax your vaginal muscles enough to allow comfortable or pleasurable penetration. I can't let go. I almost feel like a prisoner in my own body. I can't relax. I can't let go.

My therapist asked me what seemed to be a strange question. She asked if I have ever gotten angry at my abuser. My initial reaction was to say "Yes", but I took a moment to stop and think. Have I ever let myself go there? Have I ever explored that emotion? How do I express anger? The answer surprised even me: "No". My subconscious knows that the anger I have for him is so strong, and so powerful, that is locked away in a forgotten place. I've been a bit angry at mom in trying to deal with the abuse lately. It is impossible that she did not know something was going on. She had to know on some level. I can say "I'm angry", and I may rant to my husband or my therapist, but that's all. I don't really know how to express the anger. I just know it needs to be controlled.

I feel like there are other emotions locked up with Anger. Sadness. Pain. Horror. Loneliness. Bitterness. Hurt. I also feel like if I were to go to that forgotten place. I would fall into an abyss. A black hole where I am forever falling, out of control, in the dark. I'm afraid I'll curl up in the fetal position and give up on the world. I can rationalize that that won't happen, but the feeling of fear is much stronger. The Forgotten Place holds something ugly; a monster that is chained down.

The Forgotten Place...It's there...I just can't see it clearly right now.
Dark. Ominous.

My therapist is going to be working with me on this, but I am terrified. I got home last night and just started bawling on Aaron. I pulled myself together long enough to eat and do some homework, but the tears started up again. Besides surviving the actual abuse, truly dealing with it is the scariest thing I will have ever done. I've always enjoyed therapy in a sense. I enjoy feeling like I'm working towards a better self, and have someone objective to talk things through with. But for the first time, I am facing real work. Work that is uncomfortable and very, very scary.

And I am scared.

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