the start o EMDR

Today we did the first baby step into EMDR.

Up until today, I have been sharing with my therapist all the things here and there, with a lot of jumping around. Last week, we mapped things out and decided we would start with the thought, “I can’t stand up for myself.”

It started with a memory from when I was pregnant with my first baby. I was still in high school, and getting pregnant was a huge disappointment for my family.

My younger years of life were spent being bounced around between my mother, my aunt, and my grandparents. Stable wasn’t something I felt a lot of.

When I met my husband, I fell—and I fell pretty hard. It was no surprise to most people when I did become pregnant. But my grandparents took it the hardest.

My grandmother loved me so much, and when I became pregnant, the disappointment and sadness consumed her. My grandfather died when I was just starting my second trimester. For years, I felt like his heart attack was my fault.

He once warned me that if I ever became pregnant, it would kill him.

I got pregnant.

And then he died.

I know my grandmother felt i killed him to in some ways..

But after a lot of counseling, I did come to terms with the fact that it was, indeed, not my fault.

So... EMDR.

The first thought that came up was when I was 17, and my aunt accused me of telling my cousin, “Too bad Grandpa didn’t make you a hope chest before he died like he did for us.”

Those words never came out of my mouth. Ever.

In fact, after the big fight, my sister told me she was the one who said it. And she didn’t say it in a mean way. She said it sincerely because she felt bad.

My cousin was 16 and pregnant, but her family had decided to give the baby up for adoption. When I chose to keep my baby, after a lot of pressure from them to put my baby up for adoption, everything became my fault.

I was doing everything on purpose to hurt my cousin.

We went back to EMDR after I shared that, and I went right back into the Livermore house living room. My cousin and I were once again getting in trouble for something I didn’t do, but I would get grounded because her daughter could never do anything wrong.

Then my mind immediately jumped to Reno.

I was outside, and the kids were all in the stroller. I was babysitting, like I always did, and my mom was yelling at us for being outside.

I do not remember this happening.

This would be one of the many things I blocked out in Reno.

Then it jumped to when I was 4.

My mom had just picked us up from Grandma’s. She watched us while Mom worked. I got in trouble on the way home, and she sent me upstairs to my room.

She spanked me on the butt.

I told her it didn’t hurt.

Then she went crazy and made sure it hurt.

All these things I blamed myself for.

Not being able to keep my mouth shut.

Not being able to use my words.

Not standing up for myself.

The last one got me the worst.

Back in the kitchen at the Kaywood house.

I had spent the day with my BFF, Jess, who was also a teen pregnancy. My grandma thought that Anthony and I had run off and gotten married.

I was only 17. This was not an option.

Not to mention, Anthony and I were barely speaking to each other.

Grandma looked at me with so much sadness, and it killed me.

The guilt of my choice that hurt her.

I got to the point where I didn’t want to cry. I had that painful lump inside my throat that I couldn’t get rid of, but I didn’t want to fully cry.

So we breathed through it.

All of this happened in about 20 minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Lots of memories.

Lots of dots to connect in the future.

We put everything in a jar, and we will continue next week.

One baby step at a time.