We had therapy today and it was quite difficult. Somehow it was brought up that I tend to walk on my tiptoes when in the kitchen. My T had me ask inside as to why I do this. I was flooded with a bunch of memories that were not pleasant that took place in the kitchen. Shelley came out and explained to the T about what kind of things happened. We used to have to wear braces on our legs for awhile when we were real young and special shoes because we were pigeon-toed. Apparently, we believe it was our Dad, didn't like the fact that we wore them and we were forced to walk barefoot with our legs being forced into the "right" position and would walk back and forth in the kitchen. It was very painful and I could feel it in the memory as Shelley talked.
The second memory took place at dinner time. Our Dad didn't like the way we were eating because we were making smacking noises oar something and he took our plate, scraped the food on to the floor and made us get down on our hands and knees and eat like a pig. We were told to oink loudly while we ate and if it wasn't loud enough we got a kick to the ribs. We are not a pig. We're not and Shelley got very visibly upset and began to bawl. The T had her hit the couch and get mad but she had a very hard start of it. But once the anger starting taking control she did hit the couch very hard and let her anger out.
The third memory and the one that really affects everyone to this day is being ridiculed at the kitchen table because we couldn't understand math homework. We were hit, called stupid among other things and forced to sit in a closet to study our multiplication problems and were not allowed out if we got one answer wrong. I have such a fear of math and when anyone talks math with me I'm gone mentally. Like a deer in the headlights. My T says I am back at the table in Delaware when this happens. How I passed the ASVAB test to get into the Air Force is beyond me because I don't know how to subtract, divide or do algebra. My T asked who did the math portion of the test and I don't know.I must have gotten lucky on answers and they ended up being correct or I have an insider I am not yet aware of that is a math genius.
The fourth memory is running up to Daddy when he got home from the store when we were about 3 and him flinging his arm across our chest, "get the hell away from me", and my body flying across the kitchen hitting the wall. My Aunt Paulette was babysitting that day and ran over to see if I was okay. It breaks my heart to think that here I was loving this "daddy" who hated me that much.
I can't talk about anymore of today as I'm feeling intense pressure in my head suddenly and I feel sick.