The End and The Beginning - Therapy

In October 2012 I told the world that I had been sexually abused as a child. It was a huge decision to make, and I chose to blog about it in the post Jimmy Savile is Dead. 

Several people helped me in writing and forming the post, most notably Daniel, at the time a close friend, now my best friend. 

I made mistakes. The abuser told me my parents knew but didn't care. They didn't. Know, that is. At all. I blogged about it before discussing it with them. This was clearly a huge error on my part, I should have talked to them first.

After the publication of the post it was clear I needed help and found Jo a person centred counsellor. The sessions were great and really helped me, they ended when I left my job, just after Christmas. I thought I was better but then Easter came and my world fell apart.

I started having intrusive thoughts, thoughts of suicide, I started thinking about how I would do it, wondering who would take care of Joseph and my husband but convinced that it all had become too much and I would never get better. I was bereft.

I went to my GP who missed how poorly I was and told me to arrange something privately. I wasn't thinking straight and it was very hard to do. After a false start I found my psychologist.

At first the sessions were just "getting to know you" and unpicking what had happened. And then we started getting deeper into my past. I started to feel like crap. Then Britmums came and I read Jimmy Savile is Dead to a full room of hundreds of people. I had my photo shoot with Yuri at Urbanvox which was amazing, but the crash came. I couldn't stop crying it had all been too much. I felt exposed, frightened and overwhelmed.

Therapy commenced again and I worked hard. My therapist had recommended a book called Breaking Free  which I started working through bit by bit. It was hard, but it really helped me realise a few key points.

* My abuser sought me out to abuse. I didn't make him do it. He had the desire to abuse before he met me. There was nothing wrong with me, it was not my fault.

* I was vulnerable, I was a child, I had no friends when I was 3 because I hadn't formed friendships yet. My mum and dad worked hard, he had opportunity to seek me out.

* At school I had learned to cover up the signs to some extent, but that there were some that should have been picked up, the fact that they weren't wasn't my fault.

* The abuse made me perceive some things that happened at high school in particular incorrectly. Whilst I was bullied to an extent, I over reacted and some of it was just normal boyish behaviour that I perceived as threatening. This wasn't my fault either.

* That sex is something I became proficient at because it was protection, and that love and friendship scare me, as I dont really understand them correctly, and this will take time to fix.

* That pleasure of all kinds is frightening, and feels risky and scary, and this will also take time to fix. I am starting by doing small things like baking, or walking with Joseph in the autumn leaves.

My therapist felt that I was ready to leave after 13 sessions. I can go back if I need to, but I am hoping it won't be necessary.

It feels strange, it being over. I am missing my sessions, talking to someone completely outside my life who can be objective. I found the sessions enjoyable towards the end.

It will never be over for me. I will always feel sad, scared and regretful. But I am stronger now, I realise a lot of the patterns, thoughts and feelings I have had were wrong or unhelpful. I can put these right slowly but surely.