“Stop!” We yelled, into plush white throw pillows.
Scenarios of unwanted physical touch on repeat, and stop is what I wished I could say. A simple command, but never able to get past my throat. I knew it would only makes things worse, then.
But not in therapy; in the safety of the closet, with my blanket, and the ferociously caring human being screaming with me.
When all the air left my lungs and my voice faded, a Tsunami washed over me. It felt like something broke within my core. It was the most amazing relief flooding my system, though riding the edges of bewilderment and loss of control. I knew it was right but I felt terrified to let it happen.
But I did. I let it happen. And then I knew it wasn’t over so I asked to scream again.
So we did.
“STTTOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!” I yelled, and waited for the second set of waves. They hit but not as hard. Tears rushed forward, and I held on to my therapist for dear life. This time, the panic wasn’t there. This time, there was space to let love in. As if something terrible I’d been holding on to was let go, and suddenly I could breathe again. I could feel my body. I could see, hear, and otherwise be generally present. And I could allow little-me, and all of me to just be loved.
I can’t keep writing because I can barely see through my watery eyes. I never thought I would be able to experience this sort of healing. I never believed I was worthy enough.
All of this is so hard. And it is incredible.
Today I let go of something so vast, so deep, and so dark. I did that with my voice. I did that with connection. And I did that with love.