Happy St Patty's Day! If you celebrate that, I guess. I don't. It's just another day for me.
Anyway, I had therapy today and boy was it a hoot! Not really. That was sarcasm. It was difficult. Why? Because we jumped right into TRAUMA WORK. Ugh. Something that I thought we'd done in the past - which we have, a little - but now we're revisiting it because Mike thinks it will be helpful for me.
It's interesting, because I've been reading a book on trauma (I mentioned it in my post 2 weeks ago). Trauma in dealing with my alcoholic mother and growing up in an alcoholic home, with neglect and instability. But what Mike brought up first was my rape. My rape that happened 23 or 24 years ago. Why the rape? Well, I always bring my artwork in to show Mike and he commented today that he's never seen me draw a male figure. Which I haven't. I don't. He asked why. The reason is that I don't necessarily find the male body attractive like I do the female body (no, I'm not gay). I've never drawn the male body and therefor wouldn't be very skilled at doing so. And if I'm doing art that's representing myself, it will always be female (duh!). He asked if I was afraid of what the male body represented and I was all what? *cock head to side as if trying to understand* He said that since I was raped by a man that maybe the male body (drawing it, at least) subconsciously reminds me of that. Again I was like, what? He then asked if I had ever had a flashback to that day. Which the answer is yes, yes I have. It doesn't happen often (rarely), but I have. So he said that we needed to talk about it.
So we did. I've compartmentalized the event and shoved it far back into the recesses of my mind. When it comes up I don't deal with it - I push it away. I figured this was a good thing. But Mike (and the trauma book I'm reading) said I need to acknowledge the trauma, feel it, and work through it. Which sounds awful if you ask me. But we talked about it. And I felt sick to my stomach. And I felt anger and fear and humiliation. And then Mike centered me and grounded me back in the here and now. Remembering the rape is almost dreamlike for me. It's fuzzy around the edges. But we brought it back into focus which was pretty horrible. But then I got to move on.
Mike then asked me about other memories, childhood memories. If they were dreamlike as well or if some were more concrete. I told him about when I was in 5th grade I got to leave school on Friday's to go to Bemis Art School. I rode a bus there. And I remember sitting with my head against the window, looking out at the road, wondering why I wasn't happy like all the other kids were. Why did I struggle? Why did I feel so bad? Mike had me do a visualization exercise. I had to imagine that I had 10 year old me sitting in my lap. He had me "hug" her and say to her what I would say to 10 year old me who was in that situation. And it felt so weird and so uncomfortable and I was self conscious. But, to my surprise, I welled up with emotion and started to cry. I started to cry, people. I haven't been able to cry for months. And I cried, "holding" this 10 year old me in my lap. Mike gave me a few minutes and then had me take some deep breaths. He had me "pull" 10 year old me into my heart and hold her there. To keep her safe and to realize that she's a part of me. I don't need to compartmentalize her and push her away. I can feel her, support her, and let her go.
So yeah. Trauma work. It's hard. It's full of icky feels. And it's something I get to do for a while. I'm not really looking forward to it. At all. But, maybe it will help with my depression.
In other news, nothing much else is going on. I'm painting horses, working, napping. Not much else. I have bad days and I have blah days. Blah is about as good as it gets. Blah is not fun. I don't feel much joy or happiness or contentment (not really any). Which sucks. I'm just floating along through life, trying to keep my head above water. The only thing I'm looking forward to is volunteering at the riding center (my orientation is April 2nd). Being with horses is good. They are my zen.
Here. Have a horse to look at. This post was depressing.
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