His Reminder

He has warned me not to tell, and I have opened my mouth. Oh for shame, for shame. I cannot stop wringing my hands, squeezing my fists shut. The extreme pressure feels grounding.

"He told me not to tell, and I cannot open my mouth." That was the topic of today's EMDR session.

How scary.

I had forgotten how afraid I was of him, how afraid we all were of him.

And my mother, my dear mother. How could I ever open my mouth? I had to obey his warning, his reminder. She could never know. It would just be another betrayal for her. How many mistresses had he had? I was just another - the one after the Asian woman. My mother knew of her. Oh and the tears and the fights that came from that. How could I do the same to her?

So I turned into an accomplice. It was our disgusting little secret. Ugh, I want to vomit.

During the session, I felt a strong urge to cut...not something I have ever felt in therapy before. Then I wanted to run away. The shame and the pain were too much to bear...and then sadness...sadness...sadness.

Good God, if I could get my hands on a blade right now.

Shit, shit , shit.

It's the shameful feeling of worthlessness that needs the cutting. I squeeze my hands together. I gather the softness of my jacket in my hands, and squeeze hard...very hard. It is comforting.

During the session, I wanted to hold my wrists and hide them, and cut them, and hide them, and cut them...

Arrrgh! This too shall pass. Right?