From my journal, September 2009:
Today was one of those rough, rough sessions. We're working through what I think is my most difficult stuck point. Last week, I read a detailed account of that part of the rape, and some of the effects it has had on my life since then. At the end of that session, Randy said that we would start working through what I'd written, sentence by sentence.
I'd been dreading that all week, and that's what I told him at the beginning of this session. We joked a bit about it and then dove right in. Somewhere in there, I mentioned the stuff I'd read about the power rapist and how a lot of it applied to the older of my two rapists. Randy agreed, and kept pointing out that I was in a lose-lose situation: begging and pleading had not worked at all, and any physical resistance would have only made things worse and escalated the violence. (OK, it's really hard for me to write the word "violence" in connection with my rape, because I've always tried to pretend, until therapy, that as far as rapes went, mine was nonviolent and almost "nice"...maybe it was just sex gone bad, some sort of misunderstanding...stupid, I know...)
So we trudged through, discussing sentence by painful sentence, and it was truly horrible at times. Then we got to one of the worst parts and I kind of freaked out. It was weird. It wasn't my typical flashback where --- boom! --- I'm suddenly there. And it wasn't like when I'm triggered and I purposefully make myself small to avoid the pain. (I don't know how else to describe it.) I felt the physical sensations of that part of the rape, yet I knew where I was. Then it was like something grabbed hold of me and was trying to drag me off, back to the rape. It was really scary. I think that at one point, I was curled up with my face down on the couch. I begged Randy to talk, because I thought the sound of his voice would keep me there, in that room, in the present. I'm not sure what I said, just that I desperately begged him to say something, I needed to hear his voice, I didn't want to go away. It felt as if I was about to be dragged down into a deep dark pit. His soothing voice was kind of like a beacon drawing me back, or like a lifeline I could cling to. It took me a while to be able to make out the words, to understand them, to feel like I was fully back in that room again, and to feel that I was safe.
Then I thought, "Oh, great. I went crazy in front of my therapist again." I think I made some joking comment to that effect, once I was fairly calm again. Randy assured me that I hadn't gone crazy.
I told him that it is hard for me to accept how physically rough the rape was because the way I'd coped for years was by telling myself it wasn't that bad. Now the rape seemed much more scary and awful. I wasn't sure that I could cope with that. Randy told me that I am coping -- every time I walk up the stairs to his office, every time I process things in therapy, every time I journal, etc.
During all this time I was trembling and feeling more and more scared. So I started saying, almost like a mantra, "Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe I'm remembering things wrong." Randy told me that was bullshit, I knew it was bullshit, and he wasn't going to let me lie to myself. He reminded me that the truth will set me free -- but first it will make me miserable. It's that miserable part that most people don't want to think about or talk about.
Then we talked about a few actually happy things in my life, and I felt much better: relieved, and like the session had been really cathartic. And I felt grateful to him for helping me find my way back from such a dark place.
He usually walks me out to the front desk and sometimes, if I'm feeling especially brave, we do this sort of cross between a high five and a hand-clasping sort of thing. But today we suddenly did one of those sideways, standing next to each other, arm and shoulder semi-hugs. It surprised me...and it surprised me even more that it felt right in a way, and I didn't get all nervous and twitchy like I often do when I hug men. I think I really needed a hug...and I was thankful for the brief semi-hug because it's all I can handle.
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