I even said a prayer before my session with Therapist today and asked God that I not be so guarded and to help me be open to change. But what transpired between me and Therapist was more than I bargained for, and I deeply regret it.
As I remember it, the discussion centered around purging and how I think eating makes me a whore. I didn’t understand these feelings, so he asked something around the idea of did I want to know why there might be the association of food being dirty and how eating makes me a whore.
Here’s where it derailed on my side.
I said yes.
Therapist tells me the food association correlates with an abuser on whom oral sex was performed by me/we/he/she/they/it.
I don’t remember this event or telling Therapist of it.
I don’t want to know this event.
This event must be a lie.
Throughout the day, I reflected on this piece of “history” that has been told to me, but of which I have no recollection, and I find myself greatly disturbed. It has me twisted in knots and made me profoundly sullen and sad. I can barely breathe.
I’m left holding a piece of a memory that doesn’t belong to me but still troubles me deeply, and I don’t know how to escape this purgatory.
If the truth were told, I think this has set me back in terms of therapy, and I feel hopeless all over again.
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