“Go back to the moment the problem first began.” I knew the story so well. The story of the night I was raped. How many years had it taken me to call it rape? To acknowledge the truth? It ran like a movie in my head. I could see the flames of my rage and I wanted to burn it all down, burn the house down, and hear him scream as the flames took him too. I was scared to go there again. Scared of what I was capable of, even in my own head. I drew myself back from the destructive edge of hatred and the burning rage that was burning me too. I knew how to ignore it but I didn’t know how to heal it.
“Look further” the psychologist said… and so I looked further… further back… to the point at which it began… to the point at which I began.
I was confused. I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. I knew I had just been born, I could see me as a baby… but I could also see me on the other side of a veil.
“What is this? Where am I? Am I meant to be here?”
“What do you see?” she asked.
Image: Star child by JamesF63, DeviantArt
“There is a veil. There is a little girl. She is seven. She is pale with blue eyes and white blonde hair. She looks like me. She looks like I looked when I was seven. Is this me?”
“What is she doing?”
“She is reaching through the veil to me. I am holding her hand. I want to hold her and not let her go, but the veil separates us. She is me… and yet, she is herself too.” Tears fell. I felt a deep connection and recognition. I felt deeply protective of her. I knew somehow, she was me.
I reached the limits of the psychologist’s bravado. There was no more hypnosis for me and for many years, I was left to wonder. Did I really meet myself in a past life? Was it just wishful thinking and vivid imagination? Or was I just as odd and beyond the pale as everyone seemed to believe? I did not meet myself again until 2014.
PS Click here for a helpful website about trauma.