'Too unpleasant to remember, to tragic to forget'

Apologies for not posting recently, a lot has come to my attention since this whole mess with the CPS. I thought it was my anti depressants keeping me numb, stopping me from feeling and causing everything to become repressed. Recent events have made me realise I was partially responsible for being numb and brushing it all under the carpet. To be honest i'm scared to let it out...it just might kill me.


I want to share with you a quote from a good friend of mine 'Too unpleasant to remember, to tragic to forget' it is relatable to this post. I want to share how i had the epiphany that it was I who was repressing everything going on inside of me.


In therapy I'm always moaning about how numb i feel. How i crave to cry over what i have been through, how i want to face it all, sieve through it and begin to process it all so i can move on in my healing journey. I have always blamed this on my antidepressants, i even begged my GP to half my dose so i could feel something, anything. After being this way for a while my therapist suggested guided imagery. She warned it could open me up and bring out some things and that she wasn't sure if i was ready. I said i was fed up of being numb and ready to start dealing with it all.


The session begun with me closing my eyes and relaxing into my chair. I did deep breathing exercises to the sound of her voice until i was completely relaxed. She then guided me into a circular room, there were no doors or windows, it was completely empty. She then begun asking me questions about what i could see, hear, smell, touch in the room. At first i found it difficult, seeing nothing. Then out of no where.....i saw it. At the opposite end of the circular room was a white bed, 'thee' white bed. It was clean, plain and bright white, almost clinical looking. The bed sheets on the bed were ones i recognised. Immediately tears welled up in my eyes, something which hadn't happened for a while. She asked me to go sit on the bed. I said i couldn't. Instead she told me to walk over to the bed, she guided me step by difficult step until i was stood next to it. I could feel my hands start to tremble. Whilst i was there she asked me what i felt when i looked at this bed, i replied with coldness, hatred and emptiness, i wished the bed didn't exist. She told me to burn the bed, asked me what i want to use as fuel, i used petrol, i flung it all over the bed until the canister was empty, then i lit a match and slowly flicked it onto the bed. The bed was quickly ablaze, bright reds yellows and oranges engulfed the bed. Oddly the fire was cold, i felt no heat coming from the flames. Suddenly to my left a door appeared in the room, i walked out of it shutting the door behind, it lead me onto 'his' landing. I ran down the stairs and out the front door onto the street where i walked away leaving the burning bed behind. I was then brought out of my relaxed state.


After this i was asked to draw the first thing that came into my mind. This is what i drew:

The white bed but without any detail (detail makes it more real) the slant of 'his' wall and the blue colour of the walls. All surrounded by a dark mass of evil, terror, pain and hurt. It's strange how an object can have such a massive impact, i wonder what it would say if it could talk? The dark memories it holds. I despise this bed, i wish i could burn it for real, i hate that it exists.


After therapy i was very shaken up but pleased i had unlocked something. My therapist said she was proud of me as i had never mentioned anything about 'it' before. I felt i had achieved something. On the drive home however things changed, i suddenly got the imagine in my head of sprinklers coming on and putting out the fire  , when it was diminished the bed remained. It was black and burnt....but it remained. Then out of no where i experienced the worst body memory i have had in a long time. I couldn't get away from his touch. It was there, it felt so real, i freaked out and had a major panic attack luckily managing to carry on driving. When i got home it felt like there were so many images pushing against the side of brain trying to force their way out, i fought really hard to keep them at bay, suppressing them into my subconscious and then it hit me. It was ME that was suppressing it all along. I'd just been doing it without realising, now it had been brought to my attention, i knew it was me. Sure the antidepressants played their part in keeping me numb but they weren't the sole cause. My body had had too much and gone into complete shutdown and i was so terrified of facing it all again that i just started running. Running from the memories, from the hurt and the pain, running from my trauma with the legal system. I've realised that i haven't been ready to face it all, i really want to face it and deal with it, but perhaps I'm just not ready to. Unfortunately now with my meeting with CPS happening on friday i am forced to face it all again, to re-live it, to talk about what happened when i haven't uttered a single word of the incident for seven months now.


To say i am terrified is an understatement.