I relayed the memory the best I could, holding back a sob.
“You had a strong connection with him, and when he acted in ways you weren’t expecting, you felt abandoned. And unfortunately, he didn’t make the connection.”
I nodded my head.
“How does the teenage version of yourself perceive herself?”
The overwhelming feeling of wanting to be loved and accepted overcame me. “I see her as begging for a love she thinks she deserves but doesn’t know how to ask for it.”
“I’d like to try something,” she said. “I want your adult self to go in and talk to your teenage self. I want to ensure she understands her value is not tied to miscommunication from this boy she liked.”
I hesitated as I thought about what my teenage self needed to hear. “Okay, I can do that.” I closed my eyes, picturing my adult self talking to my younger self, which was awkward at first. “You deserve better,” I told myself. It was almost as if I was talking into a void. The pain in my stomach remained, so I continued to repeat it until I started actually believing it. The gut-wrenching pain started to subside.
“Do you need more time?” Darla asked.
“No, I’m good,” I reassured.
“How are you feeling overall?”
I took a deep breath. “That was hard. I didn’t realize thinking back to that time in my life would evoke so many negative emotions, but I’m proud of myself for entering a space I’ve avoided.”
Darla gave me a small smile. “The more we break down the feelings those memories bring, the easier it will be to control some of the negative emotions associated with them. There is some abandonment trauma I want us to continue to break down. Would you like to pause for today and run through some relaxation techniques?”
“Yes, please,” I responded. My hands trembled as I handed her the tappers.
We did some visualization of my safe space and ended with some breathing exercises. We agreed to meet again next week at the same time.
I drove home in silence, my body growing heavy. The image of facing Shawn again filled my mind with dread and overwhelming exhaustion.
When I made it home, I walked inside slowly, hoping Emma wasn’t around because I didn’t have the energy to talk. Once in my room, I robotically opened my dresser to change my clothes. I threw on a long sleep shirt and crawled into bed. I brought my knees to my chest in a fetal position and silently cried. At first, all I could picture was Shawn’s bright smile, which used to bring me back to life. But then I remembered where the memory started.
My mom said she believed me… I didn’t understand how she could so easily lie to her teenage daughter.
I stayed in bed, sleeping or crying, until the next afternoon. I hadn’t even looked at my phone, which initially made me think of Grant. We’ve talked every night while he’s been traveling, so he might be worried. When I reached for my phone, I found it dead. I didn’t have the energy to find a charger.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I should be strong enough to pull myself together and not waste away my days in bed. I wasn’t going to give up. I had a long road of healing ahead of me.
THIRTEEN
AGE 14
Isat on my window seat trying to read, but became distracted by my racing thoughts. I stared out the window in contemplation as Andrés pulled into the driveway. I watched my mom run out to greet him with the widest grin, making me feel instantly ill. A few months into our move back, my mom had Andrés move back in with us. I yelled at her when I first found out, hoping she’d listen.She didn’t. My mom was the one person whose job it was to keep me safe, and she once again chose herself over her own child. Betrayed didn’t even scratch the surface of how I felt.
At first, Andrés left me alone. But one day, when we were the only ones home, he cornered me. “I heard you spreading some pretty nasty stuff about me to your mom. A nice girl like you should know not to lie, right?” he asked through gritted teeth.
I said nothing in return, shaking with anxiety.
Later that night, I dreamt of Andrés sitting in the corner of my room watching me. He soon approached my bed and satat the edge. He slowly crept closer to me until his body was touching mine, hovering over my face. His eyes roamed lower toward my body, and he inched my blanket down methodically, inch by inch. My body—with only myWinnie the Poohnightgown—was exposed. His fingertips grazed areas of my body no one else had been near before. I tried shaking my head no, attempting to scream out.
I tried to wake myself up, but I was stuck in the nightmare. The dream went black, and I shot straight up, breathing heavily. It felt almost too real to be a dream.Was it real?
I pulled my knees to my chest and rocked myself back and forth while I cried.
I eventually rose from my bed to frantically check if my door was still locked, and it wasn’t.I wasn't dreaming at all. I quickly locked the door and ran to my bathroom. I splashed water on my face and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn’t see the same girl looking back at me, fear overtook my expression.
I tore off my clothes and jumped into the shower. I turned the knob to the hottest setting, scrubbing desperately to erase the feeling of his hands on my skin. I stayed in the shower until the hot water turned cold.
I finally stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel before heading back into my room. I sat on my bed, deciding if I should even go to school. The alternative would be staying home withhim,so I stood up to get dressed.
