Rules are meant to be broken

"There was only one rule: don’t open the door.”

My therapist repeated this line at the end of every session. 'Don't open that door within your mind, the pain is not worth reliving something you have no control over'. Easy for him to say when he’s earning three hundred dollars an hour listening to me plead for the truth.

People say what happened to me as a child was wrong, evil, and unfair. Followed by ... 'You have to let it go, the past can’t be changed.’

I can’t.

Yet peace is all I desire from the nightmares which haunt me. Unfortunately, I cannot fully remember everything. My memories are puzzles where the pieces refuse to fit. My mind is a black cloud continuously dripping images that splatter like acid rain upon an infertile garden of lies and deceit. All I wish for is the truth, but everyone refuses to discuss this forbidden topic.

At least with me.

You don’t yell at a drowning man because he didn’t learn to swim. You save him. But how does one stay afloat when your life is full of holes?

I underwent hypnotherapy once; the vision is still clear. I’m walking through a dark forest, strange voices whisper and weave through barren trees, while the scent of pine mixes with an aroma of old spice. A familiar song floats on the breeze as the woods stretch on forever. I try, but can never move faster than a slow walk, while the forest continues to elongate out of reach. In the distance I see it, taunting me.

I know the answers lay beyond that metaphorical barrier if I can only open it. Closing my eyes, I breathe deep and began to meditate. After all, rules are meant to be broken.