Hiding from the light

I nearly called this post "Hiding behind the shadows." It would have been fitting. That's what I've been doing lately, for years really. Every time I got within shouting distance of anything substantial in T, I find that I ran from it as fast as I possibly could. I finally really became aware of that last Wednesday. My goal for several years has been to "remember and accomplish something in T." Don't ask me what that means because I really don't know. My counselor doesn't question my sincerity in my desire to deal with all of this stuff and come out on the other side, but even she has noted my inability to face anything. Although I have to say that she has been more than patient with it.

So last week I finally told her that I was willing to deal with "something." She brought a topic about my current situation, and I humorously refused. She tried again, asking what we have termed together as, "The Forbidden Question," but I wasn't having any of that topic either. Finally, she asked about the roots of the forbidden question (stuff from the past...yuck!). I wasn't willing to face that one either. At that point, I realized what I was truly doing. All of that questioning and back and forth brought something back. I know I had remembered it before, but it still felt just as new and striking to me in that moment. I have been with this counselor for over three years, and I really do trust her, but there are some walls that just don't come down. One inside blocks so much. As much as I wanted to tell her, I just wasn't capable of forming the words. It took me almost half an hour to figure out something that I could say that might give her enough of a clue to ask questions.

I told her that I used to curl up as far into the corner of the couch as possible and sit perfectly still, and that I would stare intently into the TV (or a book, but only if I happened to already have one in my lap)and try to disappear into it. She asked if anyone else was there in the room. "Yes." (Actually not always...but the person was close enough regardless.) She asked if that person was my dad. "Yes." She asked if he was angry. "Yes." She asked if he was angry with me for some (or no) reason. "No." I told her that sometimes, depending on the layout of the house we lived in at the time, I could escape from the living room and hide upstairs. She asked what he was angry about. "The computer."

We had made it far enough, and I found I could say a little. I guess the Censor decided that since she knew so much already, it was pointless to keep retaining details. She still didn't make it easy to say, but at least I could say something. I told her that he used to throw things, although never at anyone, and that he used to throw or kick any pet that got too close. I told her that I tried to become as invisible as possible, and only escaped upstairs if there was something substantial, like a wall, between him and I when he got angry. It was hard.
Saturday was a bad night. I remembered something and then did something to help me sleep. I wish I could write about it, but that is one of the severely blocked things. Most things I just can't say, but there are some things that I can't write either.

The following Monday I went to T (and yes, if you are wondering, I do have a counselor and a T), and I told him what had come up for me with the counselor, what I was aware of about my own hinderances to progress, and attempted to share something about what I had remembered. I also gave him a piece of paper that had two words on it...one of which had only one letter and three asterisks in it. I couldn't even write it all out. That was what had come up that Saturday night. It all ties back into the Forbidden Question somehow. That question and one other, "why," are the result of everything that came before, and are at the heart of everything that I do, say, and think now.

All in all, it's been a really tough week. The results of everything that have come up aren't going away. My stomach is constantly upset because of it all. I feel like I am on the edge of tumbling into oblivion and it terrifies me. I want to simply sleep for several weeks and hope that it is all gone when I wake up. I don't have time to be all screwed up and freaked out right now. It's almost the end of the semester at achool, and I have a lot going on.
I'm sorry that my first post was so long. I guess I had a lot to say, although it seems to be primarily a lot of nothing. Hopefully it will get better.

Me (How I'll refer to myself since my name is the one that anyone in the body uses when out, with the exception of T)