Sometimes, I hate going for my walk.  I have a lot of mental time when I take my long walk to the Temple.  Today was no exception.

I pondered on my therapy session yesterday, A LOT!  I went to therapy with an agenda in my head.  I had it on paper but never shared it with my therapist.  We talked about his new calling, etc.  Then we started discussing EMDR.  I explained to him a little about EMDR from Wednesday night.  I told him that after EMDR on Wednesday, that it was the first time in my life I ever felt like a whore.  I must have totally opened myself up to that one.  He started telling me that often times the victim feels guilty for feeling pleasure!  Pleasure for sex with your brother and his friends.  Really?  Everything I have seen there has been no pleasure.  I remember the physical bruises on my inner thighs.  I remember one day when he pinned me down and even drugged me.  Really?  Where is the pleasure in that?  The flashbacks with this 3rd boy I remember he had a defibrilator in his room (why I don't know, I think if I remember correctly he had a heart condition), but I can't tell you how many times he would shock me.  Pleasure really?  I do remember being terrified quite often.  My brother did not appreciate being told off in any way shape or form.  If I ever crossed his path wrong I was physically beaten.  For the longest time as I was going thru EMDR I thought that the abuse only occurred in his room.  I have since found differently.  No wonder I have never felt safe anywhere.  I wasn't even safe in my own territory, my own bedroom.

Back to therapy, so I was not comfortable with the situation and remember I had an agenda and so I mentioned that I sent him my homework in an email.  I even texted him to let him know that I had sent my homework.  He did not even open my email until I told him yesterday that I had sent it.  That made me feel so important!  It made me wonder if he even reads my texts, or my emails.  If you listen to his voice mail message it says to send him a text but yet, no response.  His message says to call the University crisis hotline, so I call, and they tell me that my situation is too much to be dealt with thru the crisis hotline and that I need to discuss it with my therapist.  I go to 4 therapy sessions a week.  I must not be doing this right. 

Last Sunday I spent all morning with my family as my brother blessed his baby daughter.  We were with them from 9-12.  You would think that was plenty of time for my children to see their cousins, etc.  We went to our own church meetings.  To be honest, I really struggle with Sundays.  Last Sunday was no exception and I sat in Relief Society wanting to cry because I was even there!  Anyways, I was emotionally exhausted.  I needed a break and advised my children that we were not going to Grandma's that night.  Well, you would have thought that the world was coming to an end.  They were so mad at me, they were almost mean.  Really, they don't understand what is going on with me and so to them I just think of myself.  I finally had enough and rationalized that I could stay home and please myself and take the needed break, or I could go to my parents and please more than 1.  So, I cried as I left my home.  When do I become important?  When does my 1 vote mean more than 6?

This morning on my walk I also wondered why was I so mad at my therapist?  I thought about forgiveness.  I thought about my Sunday School lesson, and I thought of who I really am.  I have so many emotions and one of them is "hate".  I have always tried to follow the Savior (at least in my adult life).  You don't read of any time in Christ's life when he felt hate, but yet I hated the way I felt, sometimes there is so much pain with therapy, that I even hate the therapist.  Then I had a thought, I hate going to the dentist more than anything, but if you have ever had a toothache, the dentist all of a sudden becomes your best friend.  (It's worse than giving birth without an epidural, and trust me, I have done that, not by choice, but still, done it!)  But, you have to go thru the pain that the dentist causes in order to get the relief.  (Dang it, I hate where I am going with this!)  I am beginning to think that therapy is just like that.  I may hate going, and there may be times where the pain is so great that I hate the therapist, but I have to keep going to get the relief.

As I also walked to the Temple, there was a hill that I dislike immensely (I feel better already, I didn't use the word "hate").  Today is actually the first time I walked the hill in sunlight, it was beautiful, but I realized that I was doing it for myself, that it didn't matter how long it took me to climb that hill, I just had to climb it.  It wasn't a race, I just had to reach the top.  Again, another mental analogy(dang it!), I am trying to rush thru therapy so I can be done with the pain.  Therapy is like that hill, I just have to keep climbing, it's so hard, and it hurts so bad that yes the fitting word is HATE, but I am the only one in this race.  I need to slow down and let the therapist do what he needs to do, even if it SUCKS!  I just hope he can forgive me when I lash out irrationally.