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- #25
Leighlee87
Silver Member
I literally have not been on here in months, but I really need somewhere to write everything down right now. Seems like a good place to do it. For the last two years, I've dropped hints that I was raped, but I could never manage to say the words out loud.
The biggest hint came during an EMDR session. I was terrified that those images would come up, not because of what I would see but because of what I would have to tell her. And then it happened, my mind flashed from one image to the next and suddenly I watched his hand grasp around my ankle and pull me to the bottom of the bed. My therapist stopped moving her fingers and I tried to find the words to tell her, but I couldn't. Instead, I found myself being thrown headlong into a flashback, I watched the scene move forward, felt it all happening, and panicked. T's words came out sternly, "LEIGHA, it's not real. It's on a movie screen." I took a big breath and nodded, but I still felt trapped. I couldn't get the image to stop playing and I needed it to. Finally, T whispered, "Leigha, what are you seeing?" I still couldn't manage to get the words out. I wanted to describe the scene but I couldn't. I told her I couldn't get him off of me. That wasn't what I was seeing, that image would come next I new. But as soon as I said it the image faded away, and I watched my therapist completely soften in response. She asked if I wanted to stop, I told her, no, but honestly, I really did need the break. All I could think was, she finally knows.
A few months ago we were talking about my frustration because my husband learned a long time ago that if he constantly gropes at me, I'll give in and give him sex just so he'll stop touching me. It's constant, and it's triggering. But that's only the tip of the iceberg there. As we discussed it, she stopped and asked if she could ask me something really delicate. I knew where the conversation was headed and I told her it was okay to ask. And finally, the question came, the one she had to ask because I had never found the nerve to tell her myself. "Leigha, have you ever been sexually abused?" I didn't respond. I stopped looking at her, buried my head in my knees and stared at the floor. I remember hearing her say softly, "Yeah, I thought so." Then she started to ask who had done it and if it had happened before then.
I've been panicked ever since. She wants to pick up EMDR to deal with its aftermath, but I'm too scared to tell her the details of what happened. We had an incident where she wanted me to talk to my husband's therapist about some of the sexual conduct on my husband's part because she needed to be made aware of what was going on. I tried, and it turned out horrible. The therapist stopped the conversation barely three sentences in and basically said she didn't have the expertise to deal with people with issues like mine. She made me feel like it was my fault. That because I came from an abusive home I was misinterpreting my husband's behavior for abuse. Instead of waiting to hear that the times I tell my husband "no" don't mean "no" to him. Or that he will continually grope me or just annoy the piss out of me until I give in and give him sex. Or the fact that he openly admitted that when he gets angry with me he feels like it's acceptable to take it out on me sexually because at least then he isn't hitting me. But yeah, I'm the problem. But it messed me up a bit. Because while I originally didn't think anything of telling my therapist I had been raped, I suddenly feared that maybe she questioned my definition of rape. That maybe my past was so messed up, I would see abuse where there wasn't any. Because let's be blunt, my husband was my rapist. So now I was in a conundrum of being terrified to tell her what had actually occurred, uncomfortable speaking those words out loud, and desperate to be heard all at the same time.
The last session we took a step closer, and I think if we can do this in incremental baby steps I might be okay talking about it. She asked me what caused the situation, why it transpired. We had gotten into a huge fight. It was over video games of all things. I managed a coffee shop and had to be at work incredibly early in the morning. My husband was up playing video games, and for the last several nights he had been staying up till 5 or 6 in the morning playing and then sleeping all day. I asked him to get the kids to bed and since I would be leaving before daycare opened, he would be responsible for getting the kids ready in the morning. That afternoon I picked the kids up to discover that they were wearing the exact same clothing they had worn the day before and had apparently slept in, their teeth hadn't been brushed (I asked), hair hadn't been brushed. Nothing. He was too busy playing his stupid games to take care of his own kids. This was becoming an almost normal occurrence for him and I finally had enough. I packed up his computer and dropped it off at a friend's house. He came home and lost it completely. We spent three days yelling and screaming at one another. On that third day we were in the bedroom and yelling at one another, and that's how he decided to deal with things. He wanted to hurt me and it was effective.
So that much now she knows. And even if I don't tell her anything more, it's clear from its beginnings that it's not a matter of me misconstruing something innocent into something abusive. There are no other words to describe what would take place next other than rape. It wasn't wanted. She knows that I cried and it didn't stop him, she doesn't yet know how violent it was and I don't know if it's necessary to tell her that. She's already talked about the idea of divorce and that I'm setting myself up for it to happen again. I sure hope it never happens again, it's been four years so maybe it won't. Idk.
The biggest hint came during an EMDR session. I was terrified that those images would come up, not because of what I would see but because of what I would have to tell her. And then it happened, my mind flashed from one image to the next and suddenly I watched his hand grasp around my ankle and pull me to the bottom of the bed. My therapist stopped moving her fingers and I tried to find the words to tell her, but I couldn't. Instead, I found myself being thrown headlong into a flashback, I watched the scene move forward, felt it all happening, and panicked. T's words came out sternly, "LEIGHA, it's not real. It's on a movie screen." I took a big breath and nodded, but I still felt trapped. I couldn't get the image to stop playing and I needed it to. Finally, T whispered, "Leigha, what are you seeing?" I still couldn't manage to get the words out. I wanted to describe the scene but I couldn't. I told her I couldn't get him off of me. That wasn't what I was seeing, that image would come next I new. But as soon as I said it the image faded away, and I watched my therapist completely soften in response. She asked if I wanted to stop, I told her, no, but honestly, I really did need the break. All I could think was, she finally knows.
A few months ago we were talking about my frustration because my husband learned a long time ago that if he constantly gropes at me, I'll give in and give him sex just so he'll stop touching me. It's constant, and it's triggering. But that's only the tip of the iceberg there. As we discussed it, she stopped and asked if she could ask me something really delicate. I knew where the conversation was headed and I told her it was okay to ask. And finally, the question came, the one she had to ask because I had never found the nerve to tell her myself. "Leigha, have you ever been sexually abused?" I didn't respond. I stopped looking at her, buried my head in my knees and stared at the floor. I remember hearing her say softly, "Yeah, I thought so." Then she started to ask who had done it and if it had happened before then.
I've been panicked ever since. She wants to pick up EMDR to deal with its aftermath, but I'm too scared to tell her the details of what happened. We had an incident where she wanted me to talk to my husband's therapist about some of the sexual conduct on my husband's part because she needed to be made aware of what was going on. I tried, and it turned out horrible. The therapist stopped the conversation barely three sentences in and basically said she didn't have the expertise to deal with people with issues like mine. She made me feel like it was my fault. That because I came from an abusive home I was misinterpreting my husband's behavior for abuse. Instead of waiting to hear that the times I tell my husband "no" don't mean "no" to him. Or that he will continually grope me or just annoy the piss out of me until I give in and give him sex. Or the fact that he openly admitted that when he gets angry with me he feels like it's acceptable to take it out on me sexually because at least then he isn't hitting me. But yeah, I'm the problem. But it messed me up a bit. Because while I originally didn't think anything of telling my therapist I had been raped, I suddenly feared that maybe she questioned my definition of rape. That maybe my past was so messed up, I would see abuse where there wasn't any. Because let's be blunt, my husband was my rapist. So now I was in a conundrum of being terrified to tell her what had actually occurred, uncomfortable speaking those words out loud, and desperate to be heard all at the same time.
The last session we took a step closer, and I think if we can do this in incremental baby steps I might be okay talking about it. She asked me what caused the situation, why it transpired. We had gotten into a huge fight. It was over video games of all things. I managed a coffee shop and had to be at work incredibly early in the morning. My husband was up playing video games, and for the last several nights he had been staying up till 5 or 6 in the morning playing and then sleeping all day. I asked him to get the kids to bed and since I would be leaving before daycare opened, he would be responsible for getting the kids ready in the morning. That afternoon I picked the kids up to discover that they were wearing the exact same clothing they had worn the day before and had apparently slept in, their teeth hadn't been brushed (I asked), hair hadn't been brushed. Nothing. He was too busy playing his stupid games to take care of his own kids. This was becoming an almost normal occurrence for him and I finally had enough. I packed up his computer and dropped it off at a friend's house. He came home and lost it completely. We spent three days yelling and screaming at one another. On that third day we were in the bedroom and yelling at one another, and that's how he decided to deal with things. He wanted to hurt me and it was effective.
So that much now she knows. And even if I don't tell her anything more, it's clear from its beginnings that it's not a matter of me misconstruing something innocent into something abusive. There are no other words to describe what would take place next other than rape. It wasn't wanted. She knows that I cried and it didn't stop him, she doesn't yet know how violent it was and I don't know if it's necessary to tell her that. She's already talked about the idea of divorce and that I'm setting myself up for it to happen again. I sure hope it never happens again, it's been four years so maybe it won't. Idk.
