I haven’t posted in over a month. I stopped just as I took EMDR into the kidnapping. It’s been intense and I have purposely closed things when I wasn’t in session. It was safer for me not to linger during the week.
In this week’s session I was dealing with having been choked by the sick, sadistic rapist. My 15 year old self needed to say what happened, what he thought, felt and experienced. He has never really said much, adult me always speaks for him.
In EMDR you develop resources. They are people who represent certain things to you, wisdom, stretch, protection ect. The woman for wisdom wanted to speak. She told my boy-self “Breathing is a right, not a privilege granted”.
For all these years part of me felt like I was on borrowed time, gifted air, in a word “lucky”. Bullshit. He didn’t grant me anything. Just because he didn’t steal it, just because he didn’t kill me doesn’t mean I am obliged a penitent gratitude. This life is the one granted me at birth. My allegiance is to that spark, not his mercy.
It’s not that I am lucky to be alive. That was given to me at birth. The perp cannot gift you what is already yours. No, I am lucky not to have been killed. The distinction is paramount to my perspective of all that has come afterwards. This is solely my life.
As these reflections seep into me I am solemnly stepping closer to freedom.