It's been a few weeks and I'm processing. A follow up visit with my therapist gave me much food for thought. The voice in my head that keeps me down is the voice of my father who wanted me subservient and quiet.
Seems simple enough but it's a game changer.
We all deal with trauma differently but this seems to be a common thread.
We are programmed to be victims and until we seize our inner monologue back, there is no chance for change and healing.
I'll admit I used to pooh pooh therapy as endless whining and no progress.
But....
The more I tell my story, the less power it has. Between treatment for anxiety, and airing out my wounds, I feel my power.
I can tell the voice of my father to Fuck right off.
The sexual violence and emotional abuse in my family started generations ago.
My father was a victim at the hands of his step father. So was his siblings. So was his dad. So were his aunts and uncles. He and his brother chose to molest.
He choose to be vicious.
He choose to be domineering.
He chose to rape myself and my sister.
He choose to rape my mother.
Our family was a house of lies. Pretty enough from the outside. But inside...
I choose not to forgive but to start to let go.
I thank my mother who pulled us out when she realized we were at risk. She suffered herself to keep us together but until she saw, she wasn't ready to give up.
My mother has her own history. She and her siblings were molested by a priest. She was primed to be involved with an abuser.
She choose to rescue, not to allow the cycle to continue.
My sister was abused in an early relationship, but her husband is lovely and hangs in there with her through her recovery.
I went through good relationships and toxic ones, but I'm really good at sabotage or walking away. I'm good at no. I'm good at the abrupt end.
Maybe one day I can be open again to love, for now I'm working on loving myself.
The person I was meant to be is still here.
I'm trying to unearth her.
I'm staring to see fat as danger not safety.
I want to be strong.
I want to turn the urge to build a human fortress into a fighter. I don't think it was ever anything but a prison.
I did the best I could at the time with the tools I had but now I'm ready to strip down and start over.
Baring myself is exciting. At one time it was scary.
I'm seeing food in new ways. I'm seeing me in new ways. I'm starting to believe in myself the ways others who are in my life see me. I still have a long way to go. The first 9 1/2 years of my life have decided the path of the last 37.
Year 48 will be something new.
I'm trading anxiety for anger. I'm aiming for hope and happiness.
Anger will drift away and will be something more constructive.
I drive. I steer. I decide the route.
