I rewrote the Stephen story again. I wrote it in the third person (everything happened to “her” rather than to me). I did that because E. often has me talk about hard things that way. Partly it helps me depersonalize the scary stuff a bit and helps to reduce flooding. And partly, if I tell it like it happened to a different girl or woman, it is often easier for me to feel sympathy rather than negative judgment.

I also tried to make it as accurate as I could, given that my memory is fragmented in places. I did not embellish or excuse or blame. Just the facts, ma’am.

And then I emailed it to her in the middle of the night, so she will have it before we meet again tomorrow.

Why did I do this? In yesterday’s post, I said I was afraid of her judgment of me. But I thought about this some more. It’s not my job to try to control how E. thinks about me. I can’t control her thoughts anyway. But it is my job to worry about how I think about myself and my experiences. And clearly I need help with that, since it’s troubled me for years. And it’s her job to help me, which she can do better if I let her know what happened.

Surprisingly, I’m not even anxious about it. It’s the right thing to do so I can get better. Things that remind me of the experience with Stephen can often send me into another bout of depression. I’d like that to stop. I want to be healthier. I trust that E. can help me with that (no matter what she thinks).