Pennies and Secrets

This will be a difficult post. One reason is because Conker is in a real 'i love you' mode at the moment (after earlier deciding that the paper shade on my nice Ikea lamp is sooo much fun) and would much prefer my hand to be stroking her belly than typing and insists on coming over and telling me so with nudges.

The other reason...well...i've struggled with the other reason for a very long time. Do I tell you? I'm pretty sure I'm anonymous here but still...I don't know. I want to write about it, that's a big reason why I'm doing this blog at all, to try and track my journey through this year, farts an' all (I'm being flippant now, one of my more established defence mechanisms). Still...

Fuck it, here goes.

Today being Wednesday, I had my weekly session with Candle (I'm making these names up as I go but this seems particularly appropriate as she casts light in dark places). I had a lot to tell her about and it seemed that she was truly pleased when I told her I'd handed my notice in, Candle more than anyone knows how difficult a journey it was for me to get to that point. I was feeling, as I have done all week, barring work Monday (I Didn't Like Mondays), relaxed and energised. All good. We talked about the incident with Bitchtits, we both saw how significant it had been. For me to get worked up like that, to express it and in such a direct, obvious, appropriate way (to the situation) and then, just as importantly, to let it go, is something of a miracle (at least that's how it feels to me).

It was then that Candle pointed out something I hadn't seen, that both of the major incidents have been examples of me saying 'No'.

No, I will not work in a job that I hate anymore.

No, I will not accept your bullying behaviour.

No.

Small word, big impact. An expression of my choice, of taking control.

Not 'No, but...'.

Not 'Yes' when I want to say 'No'

'No.'

I went back through many, many times when I wanted or felt that I should've said 'No' until...

(this is so very hard to write)

I was 6 or 7, pretty sure it was 6. I had a babysitter, a family friend I think, he sat for me only the once that I recall, (it's weird I never thought that it was unusual that my babysitter was a 'he' until C queried it today). We chatted for a while, he was friendly, he told me that he did 'massages'.

Would i like one?

To the child that I was it sounded like fun, I said yes.

But he normally got paid for massages. Did I have any money?

I only had 2 pence (I remember it in my hand, round and dark and heavy) it wasn't enough.

Well that would be ok because we were friends now.

So he gave me his 'massage' but then, of course, it was time to return the favour. You don't need any more details, you don't want any more details. What would I have now if I could've said 'No.' then? But how could I? I was just a child. Naive. Trusting. Manipulated. Abused.

I almost get angry sometimes. I almost got angry today. I want to get angry, furious, raging. To smash his face in, to smash the power that these memories have had over me for so long. I want to say no.

But my defences, so finely honed, so formidably bulwarked against any attempt to access these emotions, reinforced and multiplied over the years, rehearsed time and time again until the fluid action of them is as painfully equisite as a guillotine made by Faberge, slams into place, cutting me off from the rage and hurt and pain. I'm left looking into darkness that hides, at an eclipse instead of the sun, a path into an abyss.

I was close today though I think, with the help of Candle I've been edging closer, slowly, to the emotions that this and many other painful memories have got locked away and ultimately to the integration of these emotions back into Me. To become whole again.

I'm taking steps.


P.S. I have written and rewritten parts of this post a dozen times. I almost deleted the lot and quit. It has been incredibly difficult to write. Please, if you are going to comment this, I ask only that you remember the spirit in which it was written. Thanks.