“It”– the second act

At home, I struggle to function. I force myself to do the dishes and laundry, to make lunch and dinner for hubby to take to work. I smile and talk to the nanny and to hubby. I giggle and play with Kat. But I’m not here. I’m back in the room in my head, hiding as far away as I can. It’s safer here. I don’t want to feel anything.

Eventually, hubby leaves for work, and Kat and the nanny leave for a play date. I go sit in my swing room, breakdown and cry. Big sobs of despair, of fear, of I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

I get out my journal and write. I type a long email to Bea. I shorten the email by a lot, removing the paragraphs that talk about how not okay I actually am. Because I am okay, I have to be okay. I admit in the email why I’m afraid for her to read it.
I write:

I’m afraid though, of two things. (And I’m afraid of saying what I’m afraid will happen). One, that you’ll be disgusted with me and you’ll leave because you won’t be able to stand even the idea of being around me, and I’ll be all alone with this mess in my head. Two, you’ll read it and see exactly how scattered and messy my thoughts can be sometimes and you will think I’m crazy.

And then I hit send. Bea responds back later that night. She says that she won’t abandon me no matter what I’ve written. She says we have come this far together and that she isn’t going anywhere. She says to trust her. I go back and forth all evening. I read her email again and again. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid.

Middle of the night, another disturbing dream, and I realize I can not do this alone. I am drowning in it, doubting everything, and the longer I hold this in the bigger and bigger it gets. I email Bea. I say that I trust her. That I’m scared. That I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for anyone to know. That she can read it. And that I’m positive something really bad is going to happen now. It takes me 40 minutes, but I hit send.

The morning is rough. I’m frozen and scared, Bea hasn’t emailed back yet. I try to distract myself, but I still compulsively check my email despite the fact I have it set to notify me if she responds. Her emailed response comes right as I have convinced myself that she is gone, I’m too bad, too disgusting for her to continue helping.

As much as I have been wanting, needing an email from her, now that there is an email in my inbox, I’m afraid to open it. My hands are shaking, my heart is pounding, and I have a feeling of dread in my stomach, but I open the email.

She says that it’s okay; she read it and nothing bad happened, and nothing bad is going to happen. She says she felt scared for me when she read it–and sad at the confusion I was feeling and how alone and awful it must have been. She says that she understands the situation and circumstances, and even what I did, and she’s not leaving.

I feel relieved, and disbelieving, and unsure, like maybe it really is okay, but maybe this is a calm before the storm. I can’t work it out in my head. It’s confusing to have something different than what you expected happen.

I don’t know what to make of this. But I’m not alone anymore. Bea know some of the ugly parts of me, the bad thing, and she’s still here. I don’t understand how or why, but I’m so, so grateful.

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21 thoughts on ““It”– the second act

  1. I have been through that process of struggling to write something, then the struggle to send it, then the fear to read the response more times than I want to admit. Hopefully you don’t have as many ‘bad’ secrets to tell, but if you do, I can assure you that it will get easier.

    It requires so much courage to overcome all of those fearful expectations of rejection and take a chance that this person will respond appropriately. But doing do with the right person and going through the healing process with her will leave you feeling whole in the end!

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    • It is crazy how difficult it can be to put something into words. Ugh. It’s not even something I can adequately describe. But the process is hard, and I am sorry you know it so well. I’m glad to hear it gets easier.
      After you send it and get a response, is it still terrifying to show up at your next session? I’m beyond scared of going to therapy on Thursday. Its like I don’t want her to see me.

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      • At first it was. The shame was so strong. But it got easier. I have told Mama Bear some pretty horrible things and while she winces sometimes, it is in sympathy with me at the horror of what happened, not in avoidance of me.

        The worst part was that I didn’t think that she really believed me about the memories about my father. I wasn’t sure whether I believed myself and she had to remain neutral until I decided. But for me, it was an experience of, “I don’t really find you believable.” I know now that she believes that he definitely abused me, but sometimes I still wonder whether she believes me about some of the harder memories. I’ve come to accept that whether she believes or not that specific memories happened exactly the way that dissociated parts remember them isn’t the most important thing. I have to talk about what I have to talk about. She wishes that I didn’t need to talk about so many of the memories, because talking about them tends to be so traumatic for me. It’s just so damn complicated and difficult.

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      • I’m sorry you understand this, but it’s nice to know I am not alone. And that it got easier.

        It really would have been so hard to feel and have the experience of mama bear not really believing you. You are so strong to have continued working through this and seeing her. I feel like I always end up talking about memories as they come up (well, writing them and emailing them, anyway). It is traumatic to talk abkut them and have them out in the open, but then it ends up seeming better. Its really complicated, I know.

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  2. I’m just a blogger really, so not very real or important in your day to day life. Still, I know what I know, and you’ve become very special to me because of your displays of consistent kindness and generosities; not just to me but to all fellow bloggers.
    I am confidently positive there’s nothing in your past that would change my view and belief in you.

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    • Wow. Thank you. I might only know you from blogging, but i think of you as a peeson. I know part of your story, and I feel like we have talked about many things through our posts and comments, and you have given good ideas, and lots of hope. You are important. Thank you for this. xx

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      • On my walk in the meadow I thought about my comment. It’s unlikely we’ll ever meet but I feel I know you too. People speak honestly, pouring out their true feelings on blogs, and the day to day people I’m close do not. So in some ways I’m closer to those I’ve never even met….maybe in the most important ways.

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  3. So glad that you were able to let Bea read it. It is out there with a trusted person who has reassured you that she is not leaving. That big secret doesn’t hold as much power any more. Congratulations, your took a major step in claiming your life.

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  4. What a big, scary step to take… And it makes sense that you would be scared of seeing Bea now. I think it’s natural to be hypervigilant and look for signs that things are not ok. From what you’ve shared here before, Bea seems remarkably warm and embracing. Obviously it can be difficult to trust that for sure given how much weight this memory has for you. Sending hugs xx

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  5. You know that I can relate to this feeling…these feelings of panic, shame, fear, overwhelmed, confused, swirling, numb, eating disorder chaos, and a thousand more. Ha, I’ve even compulsively checked my email…only to be fearful of looking at it once I get it. omg, we aren’t so crazy after all!

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  6. georgielizabeth says:

    I could have written that myself. Especially the constantly checking to see if they have emailed back part. I’m so pleased that you were able to send it and that Bea responded well. Nothing bad happened! Serious yay 🙂 very brave thing to do and I hope the rewards were worth the risk.

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    • Thank you. 😊 The rewards have been worth the risk. I’m lucky– maybe blessed is a better word– that Bea really does get what a big deal it was to open up, and that she works with me how I need her to, not how a book says to.

      I am constantly amazed at how many people understand the things I write, and really relate. I am sorry you too have experienced this scsrh opening up and checking email like a crazy obsessed person. Of course, on the other hand, I am so grateful to have people who understand. And, of course, I am slowly drawing the conclusion that we are not crazy at all. 😊 xx

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