I proceeded to tell them what happened. I didn’t have much in the way of details—believing that’s what they wanted to hear—but what I did share left them in a state of slack-jawed shock. They asked me to imagine for a moment if I had done to her what she had done to me, where I might be at that very moment.
fuck you! / and now you want me to speak like a martyr? / well I am still alive and much smarter
My therapist tells me that everything said in this room will remain in between the two of us. He asks me why I came in today, and I wonder if I can tell him so much.
Dissociation makes perfect sense when folks have constantly been abused, silenced, socialized a particular way, oppressed, and constantly have had boundaries broken, or don’t even know what their boundaries are.
I distract myself. I call someone and ask them to remind me of what’s good about me. I play video games or read books that have nothing to do with triggering topics. I take a nap. I drink hot tea.