I had my second therapy session of the week today and I saw a theme in every comment I made. I was talking a lot about the abuse being my fault, about how I don’t feel any anger towards my abuser because what happened was my fault and about how I hate myself and the me who was that kid. My therapist made the expected comments about it not being my fault, and not hating the child I was. I heard her but I didn’t care. She made logical points that I would never feel that way about other victims/survivors or another child etc. and I agreed. But I told her that those rules don’t apply to me. And I realized that I really mean that. But I also find it interesting that I mean it.
I have a feeling though that many of us have a double-standard like that, at least at times. Am I right? Wrong? It was just a thought that I had. The funny thing is, I can sit here and type this knowing that the double standard makes no sense but I still believe that I am different from everyone else. I deserve what happened to me, I caused it and I don’t deserve any better now. I told her that I’m sloppy seconds. I actually had to explain that term to her, ha! My therapist said that I can’t see myself as being outside the human race. She said I can’t have one standard for me and another for everyone else. I actually got mad but I don’t think I showed it. For some reason, it felt like I was turning to stone right there in her office, it felt like I was sitting there and my body was becoming a rock starting at my feet and working up to my head. The rock wasn’t anger, it was straight up hate, self-hate and it got stronger and stronger. It actually took me over while I was driving home from the session and I felt myself recede and someone/something else came forward. Interesting experience and I welcomed this person. I have a feeling that this “presence” would like to talk to my therapist and they are not happy. I don’t know if it’s an alter or what though.
I told my therapist about the baby doll I bought months ago after I had remembered a “game” my uncle played with me. I was obsessed with finding a doll that looked exactly the way I wanted and I searched Ebay until I found her. I have kept that doll shoved under my bathroom cabinet and whenever I open it and see her, I also see myself as a child, and I hate them both. I told my therapist that I was planning on stabbing the doll with a knife, seriously, and she said that I wasn’t allowed to do that. That did not help my mood. I didn’t want her telling me what I could and couldn’t do even though she’s doing it for my own good. She said that I had a reason for buying that doll back then, a reason I can’t see right now, but that it wasn’t to destroy her. She said since I also see myself in the doll, I can’t hurt the doll. Damn it!
My therapy homework is designed to help me self-nurture and since I hate myself, my therapist wants me to look for one thing everyday, even if it’s tiny, that I like about myself or something that I did, and I’m supposed to write it down. Oh Please. It sounds stupid but I’ll do it. She expects me to have one quality for each day by the time I see her on Monday. This ought to be fun.