I wrote a really personal letter to A asking for something I need that felt really, really vulnerable. Usually I’m really open and really brave but today I was so afraid her reaction would confirm my worst fears. And she read it. It took me 30 minutes to let her read it, and I was curled up into a ball at the end, counting in 3s to 300. It’s what I do. And eventually we talked about it (that was her condition for reading it). And she was talking about little me and how that little girl didn’t know any better and about how of course she didn’t understand what was going on and how she had two missions – to keep herself safe and make sense of the world around her. So I (little me) learned to let things happen. And it’s no surprise that continues with big me, when I’ve never unlearned that habit.
A lot of what happened today is personal, but something sticks out. At one point I called myself dirty and stupid and said I deserved this and it was karma and A was like “oh, PD, I want to hold that little girl and pick her up and protect her from those words. That’s your trauma speaking, and you don’t mean those things about yourself. I don’t believe any of those things about you.”
And I said, rather aggressively and with tears, “fine, have her. I don’t want her. You take her, I can’t right now. I can’t do this. I want to give up. I’m tired – and when I’m tired it’s harder to remember why I bother being here. Because if I’m going to be treated like a punching bag and a doormat my whole life I don’t know why I try. Maybe I’m meant to be a doormat. I don’t deserve this care or love and I don’t want to give it to her – I never asked to be her mother. I never asked for this. And I don’t have the energy. I can’t.”
And after a long pause A gently said “okay, you leave her with me PD. I’ve got her. I’ll hold her, I’ll watch her while you can’t. I’ll protect her.”
And I feel calmer tonight. Somehow the image of A holding her, holding what I can’t find within myself to hold right now, it’s calmed me. It says a lot that I can allow this imagery to even exist. And I think I’ll leave little PD there for a week or two. Somewhere safe. With A. So I can handle this adult shit and then reunite with her when I feel capable.
Those words. “I’ve got her.” Thank God someone does. I truly feel like I’ve placed the smallest and most vulnerable part of me somewhere safe. Somewhere safer and kinder than with me right now. And I think it says a lot about this therapeutic partnership that I’m confidently able to imagine that being a safe thing to do.