I no longer have any secrets left. with my coat of many colors being worn for all to see, I hide deep within myself to protect my heart from their thoughts and judgement.
I am the kid on the baseball team that is not any good but still gets out there and tries. I can’t throw the ball, and in all my ignorance of the sport, I run the ball to its target instead of trying to throw it. The other kids taunt me but it only reinforces my determination to learn, to become a decent player, and to be accepted by my team mates. My entire life is defined by this; my inability to play a sport everyone else has been playing since they could walk.
I have no shame. This is me, who I am. Metaphorically speaking, I embrace the fact I’m no good at baseball. But I keep at it; practicing day and night, waiting for the moment things click and I can actually throw the ball.
But, it’s moments like this that I get so, so confused and lost. It hit me suddenly that my entire life has been defined by the game aka my childhood abuse and its ramifications. I have spent a lifetime recovering and when asked, “who are you?” I reply with, “I am RADs, I am primal. I have tapped into a part of my brain that allows for growth, healing”
THIS was session one. For the first time in twenty years I have found a glimmer of hope, confidence that there is a therapist out there that can help me finally finish recovering from my childhood and learn how to start defining my life based on who I am rather than what has happened to me.