Therapy notes

When I was in therapy

CBT for my PTSD

I had to tell the woman what happened

And she recorded it,

I had to listen to this hour long thing,

As many times as possible to get used to the feelings and process them,

Desensitise myself,

Here’s what I wrote the second time I listened to it

(I had to note down the bits that were particularly difficult, when I got upset.)

24 mins in the word sex. Right at the start when I was talking about being ashamed. 26.42 Start of the description. Safe place 37 mins.

Just the embarrassment of her asking me to go to my safe place made me get twound,

As if I didn’t deserve to go there.

The first time, I heard myself cry quite a lot

I heard myself cry in a desperate way

I heard my breathing become heavy and laboured and I heard the distress

That helped me have the empathy I have for myself now,

Strong woman,

I treat myself like a treasured friend.

When I told what I thought of myself after, she asked me :”What would you say, if your friend told you this?”

I’d say it wasn’t her fault, and I wouldn’t be lying.

I deleted what I wrote the first time I listened to it – I didn’t want to see it again,

She also said I could delete the recording now,

And I did, and it felt good.



Knowing I’ve been through worse,

Helps me keep going.

I’ve dealt with cruelty and violence and fear,

I wouldn’t hesitate to fight back now,

Even though my arms are weak

I’d impale you if I had to, on something sharp.

I’d pop eyeballs to protect myself

And I’d scream so everyone knew.

I am so strong, I did a 3 hour exam sat just three seats behind you.

When I saw your block head, I wanted to drive my pen into your temple.

I used it to pass the test and that was a victory.

It’s a victory I’m here now.

I’m lucky I had people to help drag the weight around with me.

If the tables were turned, you wouldn’t have coped.

You have no excuse.


I’d love a divine hand to come down and slap you silly.

I want you to know you’ve done a bad thing,

I’d like you to really feel it and know it was from me.

My gift to you would be that knowledge,

Your gift to me was a stagger and a flinch.

Your soul is marked, not mine.

I’ll grow violets among your violence,

How dare you raise your hand to me.