Spoken Words

What is it about spoken words makes them so much more frightening than thoughts?

My session Tuesday was great. I am so proud of myself for being able to push through my fear and not only write the two things A asked me to, but read them to her. Reading things aloud scares me. It has always brought forth an intense emotion that I can't describe. I can listen to my own words, think the same thoughts and talk about the situations/events with more ease than if I were to ponder over them, write them down, then speak them.

When I got there I knew it wouldn't take long for her to ask me if I had done what she had recommended, to which I knew I would have to make a choice on which thing to read first.

My first letter was to God. Here are some excerpts:

I always believed you were there, but that I just wasn’t supposed to know You like everyone else seemed to. I never understood why my friends were able to have such a great relationship with You and I didn’t know how to. I thought because I didn’t know how to that it meant I didn’t deserve to and never would. I was ashamed of not knowing You.

But with that realization came the most overwhelming sense of confusion and anger. How could the moment in my life where I have never felt so alone be shared by You? How am I supposed to reconcile the fact that not only did my parents let me down, but now all of a sudden You did to? I wish You weren’t there. Then I could say that it was my fault for pushing You away and that I deserved what I got and I could come back to You and ask for forgiveness. But instead I am stuck trying to understand why it was chosen for me to endure this and now understanding You let it to happen.

I was able to hold it together while reading through most things, with the exception of a couple of paragraphs about my abuse and a couple of paragraphs about my cousin's death. Those hit me hard. Harder than I was expecting them to.

Having read this one first, I was hoping I could avoid reading my next letter in the same session. I knew it would be harder. But A had different plans for me. My determination was really going to be tested here.

I stared at the letter I wrote my dad. I had plastered pictures all over it of the two of us. I love pictures. They speak so much when words cannot. Reading this was going to be so much harder. It took me a while to get up the courage to read the first word. I didn't hold it together as much as I thought I would. Some excerpts:

I always felt like I was in the way when I was with you. I never did anything right. You yelled and cursed at me, threw things, broke things, slammed doors. You used anger to communicate with me. You must have been mad at me, right? I must have done something wrong. I got to the point that I hated being alone with you.

When "M" moved in and I was excited. Not only for you, because he was your friend and that meant you didn’t have to be alone, but for me, too. He was nice to me. He talked to me. He wanted to be around me. He took advantage of my desire to be close to YOU. My pain is so magnified by the realization of that. If you had been there for me before "M", then maybe I wouldn’t have needed you to save me from "M".

Through the tears, I looked up at A and told her how much it hurt to think about and write down all of these things that I've never allowed myself to acknowledge.

It's amazing how a little validation can make you feel so whole, or rather, a little less empty.