Can I just email my therapist and say “Hey, it never happened. So, we’re done. Thanks. Later”? But there wouldn’t be a later, because if I pack this puppy up, I am never coming back. Block, Disconnect, Done.
The thought crossed my mind today. A sweet little daydream that relieved some pressure. But it would be a lie, though so much easier…
I had planned on writing more about the aftermath. I have so many notes. I read the post and some of the scrawl to my therapist. He said the description of the event were facts. What did I feel during it? I couldn’t answer him.
I realized I only ever dealt with how I felt afterwards. I can still feel the crash, the wave hang over my head then swallowing me. But what did I feel during the assault?
I tried to write about it, but nothing. I thought I would let it sit, trust the process, maybe I’d know in the morning. I had second thoughts about going to sleep.
I dreamt I was sneaking out of a fancy reception. I snuck behind huge black columns. Near the exit there was only a sliver of space. But I tried to get through. I got stuck. The emergency crew couldn’t do anything to help. I had to wait until I starved and got smaller. I woke up, half relieved I wasn’t in the answer.
I started a list:
But I only know them as facts. I don’t feel them. There is one word I didn’t want to put on the list, “hurt”
I am afraid of getting to close to it. It’s a start, I sense it’s a gate. I know there is freedom on the other side. I am not going to do it alone. I have resources, my therapist and a community at MaleSurvivors.org. I am ready and I am strong enough. No more running.
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