Member-only story
Close Your Eye’s Boy, What do You See?
A story of EMDR. And The Demons Who Live Within Me
What’s this bullshit you’re making me do? Follow this light with my eyes back and forth as it gets more rapid? What’s it supposed to do again? Trigger a memory? Then why the fuck are you telling me to “remember” something at times I think I made up?
Am I doing this to stay stuck in a victim mindset that I desperately despise when I see it in others?
O.K., I’ll bite. What do you want me to remember? What memory would you like me to bring to surface?
It can be any memory, you can choose, Carl.
As Carl adjusted himself in his seat he tried to follow along with the malarkey, it’s so uncomfortable, this shit isn’t going to work. He knew it.
Follow the light and breathe, Carl. Now think of the memory.
What memory are you fucking talking about for the 10th time!
Any childhood memory Carl.
Fine, you want a memory!?! Here’s your fucking memory!
I’m standing in the bathroom, terrified, confused, hysterical, fighting back tears, and in pain. It’s almost like I have an aerial view of my younger self standing by the sink. I wasn’t quite tall enough to see in the mirror, but I can see my anguish, and fear…
