I was abused by my mother. (We'll leave out the "how" in case anybody gets triggered.) My therapist and I have slowly been taking steps to talk about it over the last few months.

I told him in generalities, but last week he said he was going to see how high he could push the Candy Anxiety Meter, LOL, and said he wanted details. LOTS of details. Details I have never been able to say out loud, or write down, or do anything but stuff them because they're so repulsive.

So, I took a couple Klonopin, and I sat down and I gave him kind of like, I dunno, 85% details -- there are words to describe things that happened that I will not use, so kind of had to be generic in spots --
and I finished it and sent it off, and thought I was done.

And then, since he obviously knows about the self-injury -- we've talked about it extensively, and I don't hide my arm -- I mentioned places I do it that aren't so visible, in the interest of full disclosure, you know. What good is it to have a T if you aren't going to be completely honest with them?

And now all the monsters are coming out of my anxiety closet and I'm too freaked out to sleep, and I'm too freaked out not to want to self-injure, and I wish I could just ::POOF!:: disappear into utter nothingness so this stuff wouldn't be happening and I didn't have to think about it or ever have had it happen. This feels like an "up all night" freakout.

If anybody is up and reading, and can convince me I"m not insane, I need to hear it. Thanks.

Candy