our therapy session

Tick, tick, tick goes the clock on the wall. Tick, tick, tick goes the little clock on the table. They both tick but not in unison and the incongruence grates on my nerves.

Evidence of my past trauma weaves like a deep trench through my present story. Decades after the first improper touch I am still living with the residual effects of their choices.

The human body is a remarkable thing. Our bodies know how to protect us but trouble arises when this protection turns against us. He refers to this way of feeling as hypervigilance. I refer it to it as the superpower I never asked for.

I am terrified of being out of control. I crave certainty, familiarity and order. I will do whatever I can to achieve the level of calm I need in order to feel in control. I still wonder why I find it difficult to trust others to keep me safe. I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness for my scared little self who sometimes still chooses the safety of solitude over the uncertainty of connection.

Hold on. Is that footsteps coming up the staircase? Who could it be and what do they want? The minutes slowly tick by. Why is he looking at me that way? Am I doing something I shouldn’t? I hear the door slam downstairs. I’m startled for a second and then think ‘why do they always need to slam the damn door?Laughter and then more footsteps back up the stairs.

Something feels off. I should be perfectly fine here. After all, he promised nothing bad would happen.

We really need to learn to relax.


You are safe.

Footsteps. Someone is outside of the door. What are they doing there? Will they try to come inside?

Tick, tick, tick.

50 minutes is over.

Until the next time.

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