Session 3 was absolutely not something I was prepared for. Everyone has all of those neat little boxes of memories that they do not want to ever relive locked up and stored away neatly somewhere in their brain where they can’t be triggered. I have millions of those little boxes.
I grew up in a little shit town in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. I’ve never understood why people say that small towns are the best places to raise kids. They aren’t. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone either knows everyone’s business, or invents it. Everyone knows what’s going on in other families but does nothing to prevent or protect the innocent. I was tormented from first grade, but it really got started during third grade. I was not an athletic kid. I was intellectual. I read at a 12th grade level by 3rd grade. I didn’t like sports. I liked music. I wasn’t your typical jock-farmboy. It wasn’t my life. In the 3rd grade, I learned every iteration of the word “gay” you can possibly imagine. I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, but I knew I was being insulted. I was also raised as a hellfire and brimstone fundamentalist/evangelical Christian. I knew “gay” was bad, but I still didn’t know what it was. I didn’t even realize there was anything different about me until other boys started talking about how cute some girls were and I thought the boys were cute, then I knew there was a problem. (I digress.)
Dr. Dragonfly had me open those boxes one by one from the time I was five until recent times. The first two or three opened slowly, but by the fourth, it was a zip line over the central American rainforest. They couldn’t be stopped and completely overwhelmed me. My dad was an absolutely tyrant, mean and extremely physically abusive to both me and my mother, later, just me. He tended to leave my brother alone. Once I was taken to a point of rage after being bullied on the bus home that I busted another kids arm in two places for asking me why I wasn’t staying for cheerleading practice. The list just went on and on and on until the end of the line and the 3 rapes came out. It was horrible and I was not equipped to deal with it. The dumpster was full by the time I was 10. While I was growing up, everyone knew what was going on, but no one ever intervened, not even the gym teacher while a group of boys forced me to suck one of their cocks in the locker room when I was around 13.
I felt ok as I left the office, but by the time I got back to my apartment, I just got angrier and angrier and angrier. One of the things we’ll work on is how to release rage and anger. I don’t know how to do it safely because of my father. The anger turned to rage, anxiety and frustration as none of my coping mechanisms worked. I love video games, but they couldn’t even distract me this time. I was a neurotic ness and had absolutely no idea what to do with myself and no way to release what I was feeling. Tuesday wasn’t any better. I called my clinic and explained what was going on. Migraines were morphing into clusters. The clusters were extremely severe, etc. They wanted me to continue with the therapy, but not at the expense of making the headaches worse. I spent the next four days completely sedated. They wanted me clear headed Sunday so that I could go to the appointment Monday without any drugs in my system.
I have to tell you that it completely sucked! It was an awful experience that will probably be repeated this week. I simply fixated on four different memories and couldn’t get them out of my head regardless of what I tried. They’re still there, but they’re in the back of my head at the moment.
cazandoconejos 