Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

Reason #283: Model Mugging

I feel like I am getting worse, in terms of my anxiety. I had a difficult session with the therapist last week.  We were talking about ways to feel safe, and she suggested that I take a self-defense class.  I told her that the one I want to take is called “Model Mugging” – it’s the one where a dude pretends to attack you and then you learn how to beat him up or get away.

She said, “Why don’t you do that?!?”

I told her that I wanted to, but that I was afraid I would get triggered because being pretend attacked is a little too much like being real attacked, in my mind.  And then the worst would happen, because I would cry in front of everyone.

She said “Why would that be the worst thing?”

I started to explain, but then my feelings about it all caught hold of me, and I started to cry right there in her office.  And then I was crying so hard that I couldn’t talk.

She asked me why I was crying, and it took me a while to answer because I was crying so hard.  This always happens to me whenever I think about taking the Model Mugging class.  I think about the class, and from what I have seen, the girl is laying on the floor and using her legs to hurt the rapist.  A woman’s legs are stronger than her arms, so they are taught to use their legs.  So, she’s laying on the ground and he’s standing over her.  This whole scenario is so scary to me, and every time I try to picture myself at the class, I start crying.

I told her I hate it when I cry in front of her.  I said “It’s such a waste of time.  I am paying to cry in front of you, when I could be talking to you.”    She said that she didn’t think it was a waste of time, and that in fact the opposite was true.  She said that the crying was a very important part of the therapy, because that is an important piece of working through things.  She said it means I am connected to my emotion about it, and that is a good thing.

I felt like we turned a corner in this session.  A good corner, but a difficult session.  I think that I processed a lot of the abuse from two of my abusers (my dad and my brother) with past therapists, but by the time I found out about a third abuser (that fucking babysitter), I wasn’t in therapy anymore.  Plus, there is also the pesky problem of not having any conscious memory of this abuser, and yet showing all these negative fearful symptoms at such a young age (before either of my other two abusers ever even touched me).  This tells me that her abuse of me fucked me up in the head.

Look at all the time, energy, and money that has been spent trying to heal from what was done to me.  Trying to fix what these people broke.  This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  I am 38, and still I am not done trying to fix what they did to me.  Sometimes, most of the time really, I think ‘Well, this is me.  This is how I am.  This will be me for the rest of my life.’

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