In September, when I was still going to therapy, my psychologist recommended that I purchase a plant and name it after myself. It's a wonderful concept that you learn to care and love yourself by gently introducing kindness to yourself through the plant who shares your name.
I ran out of money near the end of October, I was unable to afford my weekly sessions in therapy, then I was about to uncover the childhood traumas and become overwhelmingly sad that I would not take care of Shawn the person, or Shawn the plant. Shawn the plant died sometime late fall and Shawn the person was reminded in early January that one of the four abusers said my chosen name in the time when I thought she was my friend. I could see her nice side when she wanted to learn everything from me, then I could see her taunting me alongside my boyfriend. I could not be Shawn. Hearing her voice would lead to me hearing all four of them. I had a manic episode and came undone again.
I've been depressed since March 9th when my hopeful lead on my healing journey was a complete dud. I took the news over the video call as well as I could, then once I went to the bedroom, I broke down. I found out that the sexual abuse that I experienced would not be able to be prosecuted in the legal system.
Two nights ago, I was organizing things on my desk and I had noticed on the window ledge that the rose plant started a new growth. My mind immediately knew that was Mallory growing from what was left of Shawn. I want to make sure that she grows to her full potential. I used to nurture everyone else's potential but never my own.
I'm still feeling very sad. I wish I could create. I have canvas but no paint. I have dreams but no means to get them out from my mind. I'm even stuck with writing herstory. I had the most beautiful paragraph to express this morning but by the time I had my computer open and I typed out what I could remember, the beautiful idea faded away and I wasn't able to capture it as it was.