Scratching the Wall

Ah, Sam. In hell, I see.

In the show "Supernatural", Sam Winchester went to hell, but he came back and had a barrier placed in his mind to prevent him from reliving the horrors he'd witnessed there. He was warned, however, not to scratch that wall, however, because it would all come rushing out and he would never be the same. 

The actual show reality didn't quite live up to the super-cool threat, but the idea here is the same. 

Shortly after the third wave, I sat down to talk about it and suddenly memory after worse and worse memory came flooding into my head. I remember telling my husband, since I speak a lot in metaphor, that "I must have scratched the wall". 

I saw clips, moments, flashes in time that I couldn't place one after another after another.... and at some point, I froze.

I don't know how long I was out, but it happened again. It's been 4 years since my last staring spell - since the last time my mind came across something it couldn't handle that badly. The next thing I knew he was tugging at my arm, which fell limp. I tried to move, but I couldn't. I tried to talk, but I couldn't. Everything within me pulled me back in, like mud pulling me back under. I knew I was holding a can and I couldn't move my hand. I saw him waving his hand in front of my face and I couldn't acknowledge it. He whistled and told me it was my mind - that I could pull myself out.

Cat therapy.

Ultimately, it was the meow of my darling cat that snapped me to. I relate to this one. Her big brother chases her and bullies her and she whines about it a lot. I protect and coddle and baby her; I feel like she needs me, so when I heard her little cry I suppose that instinct kicked in. I blinked a lot and sat up enough to watch her, and she made me smile. 

I remembered so much in so little time. It was like I'd been through 3 years of flashbacks, and yet I know I'd forgotten more than I'd seen. It was more than enough, though.

I saw his fetish for doggie-style while forcing me to eat dog biscuits  and the felt the pain I got if I stopped. I felt the pain of anal rape and yeah, dual penetration with one, or more, of his friends; I don't know - I didn't see a face. I've had bags over my head, I've been held underwater, I've had my face in dirt, shit, god... it's all just clips. If it were meant to desensitize me maybe it might just work. 


Obviously I couldn't handle something at some point there. Obviously I was overloaded, but at this point... maybe the barrage is for the best. In Psychology class I learned they sometimes do a thing called "exposure therapy" to desensitize a person from a phobia by overwhelming them with it - like spiders, or heights. 

Maybe I need a nice, big old scar there. Gods know I've earned it.

~DC