Tearing Open the Scars

I’ve been meeting with my therapist again a lot recently, especially since the pieces of what happened during the break in at my apartment this past May are beginning to fall into place. It’s been less difficult to come to terms with the initial shock of my clearing memories this go around having my therapist to help me right off the bat instead of repressing everything for years, but it’s still been fairly challenging.

This time we’re going substantially deeper into my past and addressing a lot of my childhood trauma, incidents that I haven’t thought about in decades which have had a lingering impact upon me. It’s a great testimony to how wonderful my therapist is that I’m able to move past my most recent trauma. I’m healing, albeit very slowly, and it’s refreshing. The resistance I’ve had in the past about addressing my childhood has finally started to wane.

It still feels slightly counter intuitive to go digging around to long forgotten painful memories, like I’m some sort of masochist ripping off the scabs of my youth for the hell of it, but it’s also important to continue to move forward with my healing. Talking about some of my more recent struggles with my therapist we’ve started to put together the pieces of why I continue to run into so many victimization issues and how I seem to have some sort of super human trauma bonding to those who have damaged me the most severely. I didn’t honestly realize how dramatically damaged I was in childhood until now. I never correlated my struggles in adulthood with something imprinted on me growing up. It just didn’t click for whatever reason until now.

Which I guess is how the “healing onion” works, peeling off layer by layer. Ripping off unhealthy, scabs oozing metaphorical pus to create impenetrable scars.