Where did the children go?

March 13, 2018

**Alarm Blaring**

“Grrr! Damn alarm...” I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom. It’s been four months since I opened up to Racheal about my brother and what he did to me. Therapy is going alright; the nightmares are happening less often. I even had this dream where Racheal came to my rescue. I can’t help but think I might be developing feelings for her. But the bad dreams have eased up a bit. The downside? I feel so alone. I go to work, come home, and binge-watch Netflix. My life feels pretty empty. I just started a new game, hoping it’ll shake things up a bit. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Ronnie. It’s been 35 years since he passed away, and I was there when it happened. I visited him, even though I’m not sure why. He kept apologizing, and my other brothers had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know how to respond. He was dying, He wasn't lucid, so I just hugged him and said, “It’s okay.” I was still pretty young and honestly didn’t know what to do. After that, he passed away. I skipped his funeral and never saw his family again. There’s been a lot on my mind lately. I feel guilty about how I spent so many years being reckless and promiscuous. It really weighs on me. I think I might bring it up with Racheal tomorrow.

March 14, 2018

I’m running late to Racheal’s office. “Ugh, stupid customer!” I mutter under my breath. It’s always the case that a call comes in just as you’re about to log off! I pick up the pace a bit, but not too much. I finally arrive at Racheal’s office three minutes late. Her door’s wide open, and she’s been waiting for me.

“Hey, Sam!” Racheal greets me with a grin.

“Hey there,” I reply, returning the smile.

“How’s it going today?” she asks.

“I’m okay,” which is my usual response.

We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, just smiling and looking at each other.

“So, is there anything on your mind that you want to discuss today, Sam?” she inquires.

“Yeah, sort of…”

I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about how I acted from ages 19 to 30.

“What do you mean? How so?” she probes.

“I spent a lot of time just hooking up. Guys, girls, it didn’t matter. I was always on the lookout. I’d hit up adult bookstores, rest stops, parties—anything. I’d even go home with total strangers. There was this one time a guy picked me up and drove me to a secluded spot. He pulled out a knife, and I just laughed, telling him he couldn’t rape someone who was willing. He put the knife away, and we fucked. This kind of stuff went on for years, and now, at 57, I’m feeling a ton of regret about it all. I’ve tried to bury those memories, but I can’t shake them. I keep wondering why I did it, especially after being used for so long. Honestly, I don’t even like guys like that.”

Racheal had a serious expression on her face. “I totally get this,” she said.

“Then explain it to me because I’m lost,” I replied.

“Sam, you’ve had people taking advantage of you for as long as you can remember. They deceived you, manipulated you for their own gain, and used your body. When you finally broke free and started thinking for yourself, you needed to reclaim your power, and this was how you felt you could do it.”

“By acting like a slut?!” I shot back.

“No, by taking control of your own body. You were the one in charge. You chose who you wanted to sleep with. This isn’t unusual. Many women who have been sexually abused, especially to the extent you have, go through a phase of being sexually promiscuous.”

“Yeah, but it was so risky. I could have died a couple of times.”

“True, you could have, but you didn’t, and that’s what matters now. We have too much to focus on to dwell on what could have happened. You made it through. Take a moment to breathe that in. You’ve survived so much trauma, and so much was done to you that wasn’t your fault. Remember, you didn’t ask to be assaulted. That was something that happened to you.”

I thought about it for a few minutes then I said, "So, I'm really not at fault here."

Racheal replied, "No, you weren't in the wrong as a kid. It was something done to you that was wrong."

The session wrapped up, and it felt like it flew by today. I didn’t even get a chance to bring up my concern about developing feelings for her. Maybe that’s for the best. I got my usual hug from Racheal, which is becoming a nice little routine. As she hugged me, she whispered, "Everything is going to be OK," and I could feel the tension just melt away. Her words meant more to me than she probably knows.

On my way home, I kept repeating it like a mantra.

"I didn’t do anything wrong. Something wrong was done to me."

"I didn’t do anything wrong. Something wrong was done to me."

"I didn’t do anything wrong. Something wrong was done to me."

To view the other parts of this story just click the links below:

Part I Part II Part III Part IV