"The walls start breathing, my minds unweaving, maybe it's best you leave me alone" - The All American Rejects

So, I guess there are a few people out there anticipating a blog post to let you know all about my assessment. Words cannot describe how it went. In some ways it was the best thing that ever happened to me but in other ways, it was the worst. I am writing this blog post at 6.30am following a night out and whilst I appreciate that it may not be the best time to write this, there is no way I am sleeping until it's done.

I arrived twenty minutes early and I sat there in this little waiting room until I was collected. It was horrendous. You all know the old cliché where your mind is telling you one thing and your heart is telling you another; that's exactly how it was. My mind was telling me to run for my life and never look back; my mind was telling me that confronting the past was the ugliest and most evil thing that I could do. My heart was telling me that I needed to get all of this pain out there; my heart was telling me that if I didn't do this soon then I would slowly be eaten alive from the outside in. I have been dealing with constant pain and secrecy since I was eight years old; 13 years is far too long to have to keep things bottled inside.

I stayed and I waited until the nice little therapist lady came to collect me... 

She wasn't what I expected her to be. Considering that I work in mental health that statement is absolutely ludicrous. What should I have been expecting? I guess I was expecting a middle aged 'Mummy' in a cuddly cardigan who would wrap me up and tell me that everything would be okay. This woman was the complete opposite of my perception. She was young and dressed in trendy clothing and she didn't look like the nurturing type at all. To put it simply... she was amazing.

She took me down to a tiny weeny box room and offered me a drink before leaving me alone to go and get the dreaded paperwork; she even asked me if it was okay for her to shut the door of the room whilst she was gone. Many people may not understand the importance of such a gesture, and whilst it is not something I have a particular issue with, it shows that she understands, and takes into careful consideration,  things that people who have been sexually abused find difficult.

The start of the assessment was easy. Name? Address? Date of birth? Town where you grew up? And it was made even easier by the fact that it was not necessary to maintain eye contact as all the while she was looking at her sheet of A4. Perfect. But of course, it couldn't remain that easy. I was there for a purpose and we both knew that. It wasn't long before the difficult questions began.

'Tell me about the abuse that you have encountered.' It was at this point that I had to explain that I had encountered two entirely different types of abuse by different men and at a different age. It made sense to address the abuse in chronological order.

I explained that as an 8 year old I had been sexually assaulted by a friend's family friend. I explained that I was 8 and she was 12 and the perpetrator had demanded that 'the little one' should perform oral sex on him. I explained that my friend had rebelled and insisted that he could do anything to her as long as he didn't lay a finger on me. I explained that I then learnt what sex was by watching my friend being brutally raped. I explained that the perpetrator wasn't happy with the initial agreement and forced me to perform oral sex on him regardless. I explained that six days later I went round to my friend's house to be told that my friend was playing in the shed. I explained that upon entering the shed I found my friend hanging from the ceiling with a noose around her neck and no sign of any life within her. I explained how no amount of tears could bring her back.... I explained that she was dead and it was all my fault. I explained that I still feel as though it is all my fault. I should have just given the man oral sex and that would've been the end of the matter. I would still have ran home and brushed my teeth harder than anyone ever has; I would still be in a position right to this day where I cry twice a day whilst brushing my teeth but maybe, just maybe, she would still be alive. 

The counsellor listened to me and displayed an amazing level of empathy... Sympathy fucking sucks and nobody wants to be sympathised with but this lady just listened to me and stated that what I had been through was horrendous and agreed that I had a right to hurt. There was always a part of me that thought I should hurt; everything was my fault and I should be dead too. She was the first person to confirm that this wasn't the case.

I then went on to talk about my second abuser; my mum's ex boyfriend. I explained that it started off small and developed into something massive. I explained that after he started digitally abusing me I chose to lose my penetrative virginity to somebody else in order to prevent my abuser stripping me of that. I explained that he abused me in every way that somebody could possibly abuse another. I explained that he digitally, orally, vaginally and anally raped me. I explained that when I didn't comply to his demands he cut my thighs with knives and ripped my pubic hair out and put heated objects inside of me. I explained that he threatened that should I tell my mother he would skin her alive. I explained that he skinned a small part of my body to explain that he wasn't making threats that he wouldn't follow through with. I explained that I was terrified of him. I explained that I let him abuse me for 2 years and 347 days. I explained that I knew everything that he had ever done to me from the journals I religiously kept through that time. I explained that eventually I gave my mother an ultimatum, based on the fact that 'I didn't like hime'; me or him? Fortunately, she chose me. I explained how I first told my Mum the truth in my first week of university having run away from a party to find myself on the tallest bridge in the town with a packet of razorblades and a bottle of vodka.

The councillor listened and from what I could tell, she did not judge. She believed everything that I said and she acted as though she actively cared about me. She explained that I was legible for counselling through the service and she explained that she already knew who my counsellor would be having listened to my needs. She even went as far as to state that she wished she still counselled people individually as she would have loved to work with me; I wish that this was the case also as I felt a real connection to her and I can't even imagine having to say again to somebody else what I said the first time round. 

She is arranging for me to have 1 to 1 counselling and she is also arranging for me to attend a therapy group. I'm not quite sure which I am most nervous for. I have always been quite confident working in groups but this is something else entirely! We finished the session by exchanging numbers and her promising she would keep in touch with progress.
But, for me, this was not the end of the assessment. I walked out of the building and sat on the curb and wept. I then went home and wept some more. I then went to a friends house and, in true me style, I bottled up all of my emotion and barely shed a tear. I then went home and cried for eleven hours solid. Was it good positive crying? That's what one friend asked me and perhaps it was, it was crying for a reason as opposed to normal when I cry for no reason what so ever.
I then went out tonight (only because I had gig tickets). I then took the hetero I went gigging with gaying afterwards. I thought I was okay; it seemed that I was coping really well but it seems that I wasn't afterall. I can't deal with having told somebody all the things I spoke about yesterday. I just can't and I can't explain why either.
I'm rambling and crying as I write and probably just need to go to sleep... so I'm going to leave it at that and write some more tomorrow. Is life looking up? At the moment I feel like slashing myself to death or jumping out of a 30 storey building but I won't do these things and it's probably natural considering everything. I don't know anything any more.