Open the Floodgates

I went to see the counselor this morning, and I took the pictures I made of the neighbors house. And we talked about it, and I do remember a few things but it's so vague. More like glimpses of things but nothing that really goes together. What is very real to me though, is the feelings that come up when I talk to her about it. So I realized today that if I can remember crying on the first day of school and being afraid, but no feelings come up for that NOW, but just thinking of this place and that man make my heart pound, my hands shake, and feel like I'm smothering, then it's probably safe to assume something traumatic happened to me, and that I probably won't ever really know what because I was so young. ( I did get the pictures my mom sent that the neighbor man made of me, and my counselor's only comment was that I sure didn't look happy in any of them.)
So then we continued to talk about other things, and the way I've always been the black sheep of my family, the one that is "different". She said and why do you think that is? I said I didn't know, but that I'd always wondered what was wrong with me. She said I know what is wrong but I can't tell you because it is something you need to learn for yourself. So then she said, "As a five year old child, what could be wrong with you? What could have been wrong with you that made you deserve to be traumatized as a child by a neighbor? What could have been wrong with you that made your mother not ever tell you she loved you?" I sat there like a deer in the headlights and couldn't say anything.
She said, "I want you to repeat after me. There was nothing wrong with me."
Well, I lost it. I broke down and couldn't stop crying. It was like someone opened the flood gates, and I realized I couldn't say it. At the same time, I kept thinking I knew that in my mind, that I was ok, but why couldn't I just open my mouth and say it. And why was I sitting there crying like a baby?
She didn't speak this whole time and it felt like forever. I thought maybe she'd forget what she had asked me to do. But she said, Just try to say it out loud. And I did. I cried some more. And the tears stopped finally, and then I started to get really angry at how unfair it all was. I guess I still have a hard time believing there could have been something wrong with my father, my mother, and my sister, and that it wasn't ME. I mean that's three to one. But I do feel better than I did this morning. She gave me two books to read and said to journal. So this blog entry is part of that journaling.
I started a blog a long time ago just because I wanted an anonymous place to vent, and gradually I began to write more what I thought others wanted to read and not so much for me. Well I'm going to write my junk for awhile. I apologize if I bore those people who have been faithful readers. I love all you guys. Hang in there with me.