Therapy seems to be like Groundhog Day every week. I cannot seem to get out anything that I need to talk about. I still hear that”What goes on in this house stays in this house.” Even worse, I was told all my life what to do. What to like. How to dress. Even what to order off of a menu. I think that I was in my twenties when I finally told my abusers that I could read the menu by myself.
Today, I am not sure of anything. What color do I like, what is my favorite food, what flowers do I like? All of those questions and more persist throughout everyday. I am not sure of who I am or even if I like myself. I was what someone wanted me to be for so long that I am not even sure who I really am at this point.