What Language Does Your Abuse Speak?

My session with V today has left me with a lot to ponder. I'm already an analytical person, but I've got so much going on in my head right now that I've written, erased and re-started this entry about 10 times already because I can't seem to organize my thoughts.

I am one really $*%)! complicated person. I mean I know no one is simple, but I swear with every passing day I find out things about myself that are contradictory or frustrating. Only I can manage to piss myself off without even trying.

Fear is keeping me from progressing in therapy right now. I'm so afraid that any topic I approach or old wound I open up is going to result in the same reactions I had the last time I tried. Crippling panic attacks, constant fear, cutting, no hope. I allowed myself to think about and confront things I had never even come close before, and I just about ended up in the hospital. It took me almost 3 months off of work to recover. But when I think back to those first three months with V, I feel like I accomplished something. Even though those months sucked and I would never want to feel like that again, I feel like it wasn't a waste of time or effort.

These last 4 months have felt so unproductive. I haven't pushed myself to really talk about or feel anything difficult, because this fear in the back of my mind is slamming that door closed every time I approach it. The logical side of me is screaming "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? DO YOU WANT TO FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN?!?!", yet I'm also battling with the undeniable fact that the only way I am going to be able to heal from and let go of these hurts I've been carrying around for so long is to talk about, process through and feel them.

I want to feel like I'm not wasting my time (and V's). I don't right now. I hate it.

I'm so frustrated with myself. I feel like I've lost faith in my entire existence. Like everything I do is futile. No matter how hard I work or how much I want something, I'm doomed. The world is going to spite me and give me the exact opposite.

I feel defeated.

And yet, to be even more contradictory, another part of me feels as though if I can eventually get to a place where I can let these walls down, that I will recover. It seems possible in every aspect of my life... except one.

Even though I sought out and have been going to therapy with the goal of recovering from my abuse, a big part of me doesn't believe it is possible. That no matter how hard I work or what I do, this will always be what defines me. I will never escape it. I will always be afraid. I will always be that 13 year old.

I mean, look at all I've been through over the past 9 months. I got to a point that I wanted to kill myself. I mean actually wanted to end my life. I had NO HOPE. And even going through all of that, I still feel like nothing has changed. I'm still just as afraid as I was then. Just as defined by my abuse as I was then. Why should I think it'll ever get better? I almost killed myself trying to make it better.

Then V said something to me that seemed so painfully simple and obvious, yet brought me almost immediate hope.

"Your abuse speaks a different language."

Don't worry, I'm going to clarify (as you are probably thinking the same thing I was: uhhh, what does that mean?). The little things I've been able to improve upon with V, like learning how to be in the moment, my relationship with my mom, coping with stressors in life without cutting, etc speak one language. Certain methods and approaches work very well in confronting those things, all the while challenging me, pushing me and allowing me to see success.

The "language" V used for those things was obviously not the right "language" for my abuse.

I left tonight feeling more hopeful than I have in a very long time. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out what the right language is for my abuse. And maybe, just maybe, I can heal.