We didn't have time today for therapy. I shared the memory that is bothering me. I shared how I feel like I can talk about these things now knowing I can tell my husband, I can tell her, or I can tell the pastor at my church. As all 3 know a lot of the stuff. When I mentioned the pastor I could tell it sparked feelings in her of anger. Her husband is a pastor at my church as well and I didn't go to him. I went to the other, the one I've always gone to with issues. Not these issues but things that pop up in life, such as marriage issues.
This man has kept my marriage on the right track since before it was a marriage. But the two pastors are not getting along, to say the least. The very least! This adds stress to me to talk freely at the counseling. Conflict of interest. I don't know what will happen with this in the future. Very near future.
I have a lot of feeling and emotions. Hard to talk about if I can't say what happened. But I assure you if I did you'd think it's something right off of Holly Wood.
I've denied myself the right to feel this memory should be upsetting. Until this week. Now I'm angry. My parents were right there. I know they didn't want to be put in that situation. But if it were my child nothing would of stopped me from rushing over and scooping her up and holding her. What kept them?! My hubby says perhaps they were in shock. Perhaps they were afraid if they moved someone would get hurt. I know asking why only gets me farther from God, but why?!?! Why didn't they reach for me! The ones who were suppose to protect me and love me. I'm not angry at them. I am angry that it happened. Mortified, now that I've stopped to recognize what I would expect from anyone else if they were put through this.
I spent time today on the path to the cross in the woods. I just wanted to be close to it and cleaning up from the winter gave me something to do plus I get a little turned around so having the path completed will help me to find my way in and out easier. My youngest eagerly helped me. It was such a blessing to have him care about me and my cross to the point he'd spend the day with me.
I wonder if I ever wrote what happened if one day someone else who went through simular would be able to tell their story cause I did.