When I first started recovering memories from my abusive childhood, I had no idea what to do with them. I felt like they were stuck somewhere inside of my body and that’s where they would stay. I started journaling my memories and found it to be very helpful, but I still felt like something was missing from my healing journey. I would visit my therapist, look her in the eyes, and tell her that something was very bad. But I could not say what happened. I could not verbally recount the events of the memory to another person … even a person I trusted.
It was as though a lifetime of shame was stopping my words. They were stuck in my throat and I could not get them out.
But there was something else stopping me besides the shame. I was absolutely convinced that nobody would believe me. As a child, I was told by my family that nobody would ever believe me. This wasn’t a suggestion. It was repeated thousands of times. It was brainwashing. And I had no reason to doubt it. Continue reading