I hear you ask, how did I come to the decision to finally, reveal my past. Well I will try and explain.
I should have been in a happy place, perfect job, good friends, loving family. What more could one want? Well, I had started to become depressed, I left my husband and children, made some terrible choices. Thought, that I would be better off alone, and that they were better off without me. Guess, truth is, I was a little jealous. I had been working full time, and my husband was a stay at home dad. He seemed to have a fantastic relationship with the kids. And I felt pushed out so I did what I do best. I leave! Don’t get me wrong, I stayed in regular contact, visiting as much as I could. I just needed a place to hide I suppose. My husband was beside himself, so confused, had no idea why I was doing what I was doing. Looking back I was awful to him. But true love shows, I am home where I belong, and we are trying to rebuild the foundations…
But why did I revel my past??
I attended a family funeral, to be honest, didn’t think much of it. If he was going to be there that’s fine. I’m strong, seen him a few years ago. I can do this.. I was wrong, I was sat in the church, and the anxiety started to build, surely this is just a little grief??? But then he walked in, my heart raced, I become sweaty. I managed to sit through the funeral, and I left, he stopped and spoke to me, like we are long lost friends. I said hi, and walked away. Walked so fast, I could have run. I got back to my car, shaking, angry. A huge mixture of emotions pouring through my body. I remember driving back to my lonely flat, planning to get a knife and cut myself. (This was my outlet as a teenager). I decided that it would be best to cut my legs as I can’t possibly cut my arms, as they would be seen at work. So driving home, getting more and more worked up, then the tears flowed. I have no idea, how I managed to drive the 25 miles back to my flat. But I did, as soon as I walked in. I sat in a crumpled mess and I cried really cried. Then quickly ran to the bathroom to be sick. What felt like hours, was probably half hour. I pulled myself together, I did not cut myself, why should I? why do I want to become that scared teenager again? I got changed and went to my husbands house and spent time with the kids.
My husband knew I had been upset, but thought it was just grief. Bless him, although really annoying at the time, he fussed over me.
When I had moved out, I knew that I was feeling low. So I made contact with NHS counselling service. A few days after the funeral, I had a call from a lovely counsellor, unbeknown to me how this call was going to go. You see, I have seen previous therapists, I never mention my past. I did once about 2 years ago, and that therapist was really pushy for information, wouldn’t let go. I left feeling worse than Ii had when I went in. I clammed up to be honest, and refused to discuss further.
Back to my telephone conversation. A lovely guy called, I started telling him about how I had been feeling the past few months. He listened and we continued to talk. To this day, I can not remember how he broached the subject, but suddenly I found myself talking about the past I grew up in. He seemed to understand, by now I don’t know how as I was sobbing down the phone. He was fantastic, he explained why I felt my job was so important to me. He could see why I ran from home. Everything, he said made sense. But… That was it, and the end of the call, he confessed that I needed specialist counselling, not something they could offer. He gave me the details of a specialist service and told me to call.
It took a few days, for me to pick the phone up and make that call. The day I did, I got an appointment for the following week. The lady on the phone was surprised, she says normally, we have to wait a lot longer, but she had just had a cancellation.
That evening, I decided to sit down and talk to my husband about the telephone counselling session. My husband knew I had a traumatic past, but never knew to what extent. I had even kept the secret from him. I explained what the counsellor said about my reasons for leaving and why work meant so much to me. I then started to talk about the abuse, I explained that I was going to be having specialist therapy. As I was talking my husband grabbed my hands with tears in his eyes, and said I knew it was bad, but I honestly never knew you actually were raped. I hate that word, to be fair, up til now, i wouldn’t say the word rape. If I was talking I would say sexually abused. I’m glad I had this conversation with him, it finally opened a new door, to recovering our relationship.
The day come for me to go for my assessment at the specialist centre. I met a lovely lady, we sat in this small room. Not your normal clinical room, there was cosy seating and had a nice feeling to it. We chatted for an hour and half, discussing snippits of my childhood, from the terrified emotional and physical abuse from my parents, to the sexual abuse from my cousin. Obviously, due to the time, it was only a brief opening. But the lady I spoke to was great, she put me on the list for counselling, said I definitely would benefit from it. She said I would need the extended therapy over 26 weeks. And may need more after, or alongside it. Her leaving words to me was you will go to the police and report, may not be now, but one day you will find the strength to do so.
I will save this for my next blog!!!
Thank you for reading.
You can follow me on facebook mystory-25yrssilent
Will update again soon!!