Session 3

I had therapy yesterday.

This was my third session, and we were supposed to talk about my most recent trauma. But we ended up going in a completely different direction. And honestly, that’s okay.

We talked about boundaries. All the different kinds of boundaries there are in this life, and what they look like.

She asked me if I had boundaries growing up. She asked me about my role models.

The truth is, I didn’t really have any good examples of boundaries.

My grandmother had zero boundaries. She let people walk all over her while she suffered silently.

My mom was the complete opposite. She didn’t care what anyone thought. Her way was the only way.

And then we went into my childhood.

Which is really where I want to start my EMDR therapy.

Remember, the whole reason I decided to go back to therapy was to do EMDR. I want to finally be able to process the things that happened to me, understand them, write about them, and hopefully become a healthier and stronger version of myself.

We talked about when I was four years old.

My mom was having one of her many drug-involved parties at her apartment on Olivera.

My aunt found out about it—or at least that’s how I remember it. The cops were called, and Grandma and Debbie came and rescued us.

I remember that event. I always have.

It’s not something you forget.

Your mom going to jail.

Moving in with your grandma and grandpa.

Your entire little world changing.

But what I remember most about that night wasn’t the police.

It wasn’t my mom going to jail.

It was what happened afterward.

That night, I sat on Grandma’s lap in the white chair she had in her room.

She got out the Strawberry Shortcake book and read it to me.

She told me she loved me.

She told me everything was going to be okay.

And yesterday, I cried.

At the time, I didn’t really understand why.

But after thinking about it all night, I think I finally understand.

I think that was the first time I truly felt loved.

The first time I was shown love.

The first time I felt completely cared for.

And maybe that’s why it hit me so hard.

Because it was also the last time Grandma would hold me.

She wasn’t a holder. She wasn’t a hugger.

But it wasn’t because she didn’t care.

I think she just didn’t know how to show it.

And maybe I cried for that little girl sitting in that white chair.

Maybe I cried for the little girl who needed to be held.

Maybe I cried because, for just a moment, she was.

So there you have it.

I talked a lot.

I cried a little.

I processed a TON.

And another therapy session has come and gone.

I also learned something pretty important yesterday:

I have basically zero boundaries.

My therapist wants me to start practicing.

Create boundaries with people at work.

Create boundaries outside of my home.

And eventually, learn how to create them inside my family.

That last one sounds easy, right?

Yeah… probably not. 😂

But here we go.

Practice.

Practice.

Practice.

I know setting boundaries is probably going to make some people uncomfortable.

Some people may get mad.

Some people may not understand.

Some people may even hate me for it.

And honestly?

I’m learning that it’s okay.

Because maybe being healthy means finally learning that I don’t have to make everyone else comfortable at the expense of myself.

So here’s to boundaries.

Here’s to healing.

Here’s to the little girl in the white chair.

And here’s to learning how to love and protect her the way she always deserved.

One therapy session at a time.