The Sabbath day.  Easter Sunday.  Even as I sit here writing this post, I can look up and see two pictures of Christ in my living room.  I am a wreck of emotions.  I have thoughts of my Sunday School lesson running thru my head, thoughts of the Atonement and its meaning this Easter day, thoughts of the woman that I am, and thoughts of the woman that I want to become.  I'm not going to lie, I have some apprehension still of Sacrament meeting.  Can I really be the only one that struggles with this feeling of unworthiness?  I have already started crying today, which isn't a good sign.  I am hoping that I can sit somewhere indiscretely so I don't have someone watch me get emotional.  To be honest, I kind of put a lot of pressure on me for this day.  Last week, I worked so hard to prepare myself for conference weekend.  I really was a wreck during the October session and I did not want the same thing to happen this time.  It's funny because you ask people what they got out of Conference and each person will tell you something differently.  That is what is so amazing about the Gospel.  One person approached me this week and asked how I felt on all the talks of family.  Funny, I don't remember them because for me all the talks pointed to adversity and forgiveness.  (I really hate my damn it moments!)  This is not good, it's only 7:00 am and I have already soaked one kleenex. 

Yesterday, when I had my session with my new therapist I said to her.   I wished that I could say that these memories of abuse never existed.  That they were a made up story.  When I had my damn it moment just a second ago was because when I wrote the word forgiveness it stirred up all of my emotions.  Right now, there is just so much to forgive.  It is hard.  Why can't I go back to where in my head I had the perfect childhood?  I really can't believe as I sit here how much of my childhood I don't remember.  I wish my memories would have stayed repressed.  This really would have been so much easier, or if they had to come forward, I wish it didn't involve so many people.  There are some people that I need to forgive, that I know have no idea that they even need to be sorry.  I wish it weren't my brother.  If I would have been raped by a complete stranger then it would only be between me and that stranger.  Instead the whole dynamics of my family have been shaken.  Who was supposed to protect me?

In therapy, I have learned that I self-injure a lot.  I have definitely been made aware.  I hate the fact that right now, even though I have been made aware of my self injury, it feels better than the other emotions that I have.  And, I'm sorry you have to know about it.  I just had to get it out of my head.  It sucks!