I’m reblogging this post as a precursor to my following post. I am still dealing with the destruction left behind by my eight-year encounter with an emotionally abusive therapist, Ellie.
After my earlier blog, I did go to see my new therapist but it was so harrowing, I could only write these words. They are not clever or articulate. They are basic.They are feelings which hardly touch the edge. They are the crater at the top of a volcano which may erupt and spew it’s contents at any time. They are me.
(My experience of abusive therapy)
Eight years gone; vanished from my life
Deaf ears to the pleading all around me
Every minute of my life consumed by you
You told me that you loved me
I couldn’t survive apart from you
Every time you left me, a part of me died
And I shrivelled further into my anorexia
And permanently scarred my body
“Love me, hug me, and kiss me please”
“I need to be in your arms”
“Never leave me”, I implored
“You are my favourite mum”
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