Posted by: Marie | February 23, 2011

(523) Throwing off a huge weight – Part 4 of 4

Post #523
[Private journal entry written on Wednesday, October 20, 2010 about a conversation between my therapist and me – continued from previous post]


Me: I don’t know if you noticed, but there was no oral contact in my fantasy. Oral has never been part of my fantasy or even part of my flashbacks. I have the sense he wouldn’t let me see his penis because the risk I might talk about that to my parents was too risky – like he knew he had to make sure I never saw his penis.

Also, I always wore a dress to church. When I would go to their house after church, I’d change into my play clothes. But, I always arrived at their house wearing a dress. I have a sense that he had better access to my privates when I was wearing the dress . . . maybe that is what the gown represents . . . me wearing the dress . . . I don’t know, just a thought . . .

I don’t know what the commune would represent . . . I mean, we weren’t associated with a commune in any way.

Edward: Do you think it might represent the omnipotent power of the church . . . the unyielding influence it had on your parents and the helplessness you felt in the face of that influence? Maybe it reflects the extent to which you felt you had no voice about what happened to you . . ??

Me: Yeah . . . that makes sense. It feels accurate.

I’m not sure about the part where I have to take a shower and “get clean” for the man . . . and why it was so important I be “pure” and “innocent”. I don’t have any memories of “X” saying anything like that to me, so I’m not sure what it means . . .

Photo by Martin Chen

Edward: It might have been part of how he justified what he was doing . . . maybe he could justify his behavior by telling himself . . . telling you . . . he was doing it to introduce you to a love that he could be labeled “pure” because of your innocence. I don’t know . . . I’m just guessing . . .

Me: Again, that seems to fit the sense I have about the whole deal . . . but it seems the “purity” part of it is linked to the times he would cause me to feel pleasure. I have a sense that he spoke to me in that gentle way when he was touching me in an effort to arouse me. That part of the molestation that brought felt good to me is not in the fantasy, but it has played a significant role in the flashbacks I’ve had.

The part of the fantasy concerning the desk is real . . . I mean . . . in the flashbacks, I remember sitting on the desk and he would sit in his leather chair and my feet would be in his lap . . . this is when it seems I still was wearing my church clothes – my dress . . .

(As I started talking about what I remember from the flashbacks, my emotions overwhelmed me and I started crying almost to the point I couldn’t talk. I would say a few words, then have to stop talking to allow the sobs to come and go . . . then say a few more words . . . Edward listened patiently as I struggled to describe what I remember . . . )

Me: I remember sitting on the desk . . . with my hand on the edge . . . I could feel the carvings along the underside of the desk’s edge . . . I remember focusing on the feel of those carvings . . .

His desk was in the basement . . . in what was originally designed as a bedroom . . . there were guest bedrooms down there . . . and a bathroom, I think . . . and a closet where they kept the toys . . . and all those smaller rooms came off of the big room that was a recreation room with a white . . . well, a cream colored wrap-around couch . . . do you remember the old wrap-around couches . . . ??

There was a big TV in that big room . . . well, not a big-screen like is available now, but big for those days . . . a color TV . . . sitting along one wall . . .

I remember sitting on his desk with my feet in his lap, feeling good sensations in my body . . . and then I remember lying face down on a chenille bedspread, wanting to die . . . the bedspread was rubbing on my face . . . and I don’t remember what happened in between . . . how I got from the desk to the bed . . . but I think it was a bed in one of the guest rooms . . .

I remember lying face down, listening to him walk away, out of the room, just leaving me there. I knew he was mad at me but I didn’t know why . . . I didn’t know what I had done to make him mad . . . I didn’t know how to fix it . . . I told everyone at church I was going to marry him and he called me his girlfriend . . . but he still walked away from me mad when he was finished and I didn’t know why . . . it was just like when my dad would punish me then walk away and leave me alone . . . I didn’t know how to make him not be mad at me either . . . they both walked away mad and I didn’t know why . . .

When “X” would walk away from me, mad . . . he just left me to get cleaned up on my own . . . I think in the bathroom down there . . . get dressed . . . find my play clothes and put them on . . . he would go back in his office to do his work and he would leave me to play by myself with the toys from the closet. I had to entertain myself until it was time to go back to church in the evening. We acted like nothing had happened except he seemed to be disgusted by me and I didn’t know why . . .

(By this point, I had run out of tears and sobs and was sunk back into the leather couch . . . exhausted. We sat quietly for a few moments while I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.)

Me: Phew . . . well, okay . . .

Edward: How are you feeling now?

Me: I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me. I’ve been carrying around all that stuff for a lifetime. It feels really good to dump it, to share it with another human being.

Edward: Is there anything you need for me to do or say to help you feel complete with our conversation?

Me: No . . . you’ve been a great support. I’m feeling okay with everything right now.

(I looked at the clock to see how we were doing on time . . . we still had five or seven minutes left . . . )

Me: I think I’m done for today.

Edward: You’ve had a full session’s worth already?

Me: Yeah (little laugh) . . . I’m ready to stop.

Edward: What would you like for me to do with this copy of your writing? Would you like it back? Would you like for me to shred it?

Me: No, you can keep it if you want to . . . I mean, I don’t know what you normally do with stuff I give you.

Edward: Well, I can put it in your file – if you are okay with the idea of it remaining in my office – in case we need to refer to it in the future.

Me: Sure . . . I don’t care what happens to it.

Edward: (Looking a bit concerned) What do you mean you don’t care what happens to it?

Me: I don’t care what happens to it because it isn’t a secret anymore. I don’t have to protect it anymore.

Edward: Ah . . . I see . . .


And that brought us to the end of the session . . .

As I was packing up to leave, Edward asked me to take extra good care of myself as I processed what occurred in the session today. I assured him I would . . .


  1. Wow. That was quite a session. I hope that having the weight lifted has stayed with you.

    I guess you and Edward talked in subsequent sessions about what it meant to live without carrying the secret.

    • Hey, Evan –

      This session was very impactful for me . . . it really loosened the grip of the fantasy.

      Hmmmm . . . nope, Edward and I didn’t talk about what it meant to live without carrying the secret . . . I guess I never felt the need to talk about it. Hmmm . . . interesting . . .

      – Marie

  2. thank you for your kind words on my other comment. i had therapy today. i told sharon about reading your blog and about how brave you are. i told her i wanted to be that brave. i also talked about my fears that she will fire me as a client if i tell her, and about wanting to protect her from my fantasies, about feeling that they are too bad to share out loud. sharon assured me that she could take care of herself, she wouldn’t “fire” me, and would instead guide me through this. i’m lucky in that i see her twice a week so we are going to return to this on monday. i am going to write out my fantasies and take them to our next session. i want to tell her so badly. i’m just really scared. think of me on monday…

    • Hey, Catherine –

      You go, girl!

      I am so proud of you . . . that is a very scary thing to do. Even if you don’t get as far as writing it all down and/or reading it to your therapist . . . just the fact that you have determined this is something that would contribute to your healing and that you are willing (and hopefully ready) to do it is awesome! You are brave!

      Keep us posted!

      – Marie

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