Wilkie asked me to make a list of what I wanted to be. Who the girl could have become. She asked me if I knew. I don't know. I am so tired of people telling me that it was so long ago. Is that supposed to help? Am I supposed to know why I feel more broken today than a year ago? I lost that so long ago. Now I'm supposed to walk into a new therapist? I'm supposed to tell him that so long ago someone ripped out my heart and ground it up. Could you please find it and put it back??? I feel so confused. I wrote this in my journal because everyone keeps telling me that I have to move on. That I have to find something to live for. I don't really know that I exist. So maybe its not about me.
It's about her. It is not about how bad it was or how long it has been it is about her. A small girl's spirit that was broken and crushed time after time. It's about how the world went on without her. How her body grew and her mind. How her family never even suspected. It's not about therapy and its not about justice. Not about revenge. It's not about how bad it was or if it is still bad. It is not about growing up it isn't about how her body betrayed her over and over. It isn't about taking back my life. It isn't about moving forward. It isn't about who I am know or who I can choose to be. It isn't about watching her friends grow up and her sisters too. It isn't about being believed. It isn't about staying a child. It isn't about being alone. It's about a little girl with all her hopes and dreams. A pretty little girl who loves to twirl and laugh. A girl who had never felt unsafe. A child full of promise. An innocent baby. Brand new to this world. She was real. She really lived. I see her. I can almost catch a glimpse of her if I turn real fast. All of that gone in a moment. In a quick hard grasp, fingers with dirty nails, pulling and pushing. Ripping her clothes then her body. That was all it took she was gone. Her eyes went dark she held her breath and disappeared. She buried herself deep inside the darkest hole she could. She told herself that there was no hope, or beauty. That dreaming was dangerous. Worst of all she told herself that she was bad. That god made her bad. That he sent her to earth to be punished. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I don't know how to fix this.
Anyway, I start EMDR today. What do I say to him? Uhh yeah hello. I'm your new fucked up trauma client. I hope this isn't too much... Wow, I can't even face myself in the mirror. Why is it when your doing something for the first time that you really really don't want to do your body grows 14 sizes? please god shoot me now