This is one of those posts where I become extremely vulnerable. It’s one that I know once it goes out into the “web-sphere” it can NEVER come back. I may forever be known for this post. That knowledge, knowing that it could, possibly, be etched in someone’s mind, is the EXACT reason why I should release it. It could lead to freedom.
The realization came to me sometime after my 25th birthday but before my 27th birthday. I remember feeling like I wanted “something” to change but I was not sure what it was. On the surface, I thought it was because I was stressed. So, I looked through my insurance booklet of providers for a therapist. I found one, made an appointment, and showed up not knowing what to expect.
Looking back, I guess the first appointment was just as you would expect. I sat there talking in her comfortable chair. She sat there mostly listening and asking questions. And just like that, the session was over. I paid my co-pay and made my next appointment.
Same Feelings, Different Day
After leaving her office I still felt unfulfilled. Because I knew I was not being truthful with my feelings, I was disappointed with myself . At that point, I made a commitment, to be truthful the next time.
I can’t remember how the session started but before I knew it I was telling her my story of child molestation. It was the first time I’d articulated my experience to anyone. The experience was only a record playing over and over in my head. And, of course, the record was telling me that it was my fault.
I was sitting in her office crying like a little girl. An eight-year-old girl, to be exact. I sounded like an eight-year-old girl. I FELT like an eight-year-old in her office. I remember sitting there thinking “what have I done?” “Oh my gosh, I just said it!” “Now what am I going to do?”
The Little Girl Was Ready
I told her that I didn’t know how I should feel: angry, sad, or mad. Her response was simple: “you can feel any way you want to feel because it happened to you.” That was exactly what the little eight-year-old girl needed to hear. The woman (Me) needed someone to give the little girl (also Me) permission to express herself.
A burden was lifted from my life when I left her office. The little girl was freed and the woman was able to begin to define her life.
In fact, the little girl was ready to grow up and get on with her life. Because I allowed the little girl to grow up, I am who I am today. While your little girl may not have been sexually abused, she’s experienced something but she’s ready to grow up. You have my permission to allow your little girl to grow up.