Things are a little clearer this morning. I slept so well and so much last night - eight full uninterrupted hours! I didn't even know that my brain could still do that! But it can, and it did, and I am hoping that today I can explore a little more into what the hell is driving me batty. Why do I insist on punishing myself?
In therapy, we talked about fear. My fear. I am afraid of my stepfather's threats from so long ago. I am afraid of seeing him again. I am afraid of his family. I am afraid that they would hurt us. I am afraid to even say all this.
So why does all this fear lead me to hurt myself? Why do I feel somehow deserving of punishment? I have forced myself to eat, because I know that allowing myself to feel hungry and weak is part of the punishment. I have deliberately taken myself to bed, because denying myself a good night's rest is part of the punishment. But what have I done to deserve all this punishment?
I have talked. I have spoken up...used my voice when he told me not to tell. And all the time that I didn't tell, I was his accomplice. I was his other woman. I was his secret. And for this, I want to cut myself to pieces. I want to slice through my skin feeling the sharpness of the intense sting until...until what? Until I feel like I've paid? Until I've purged? Until I'm satisfied? The problem is that that feeling doesn't come from cutting. As much as I seek it, it doesn't seem to come, and I only want to keep cutting thinking that the next cut will bring me to that place of acceptance and satisfaction. I don't stop until I call or see my therapist for help.
He suggested EMDR again. I think I might agree.
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