“Just for today, Kathy; i need you back. Just for today…..please. Just for today, i want those boundaries broken, the barriers torn down, the pain gone. I just need your love back. I need to feel you hugging me safe, hugging my inner child safe; telling her it’ll all be ok. I need to feel your motherly kiss on my forehead each time we said goodbye. I need to feel your arms around me, comforting me when i am upset and when i am hurting and to feel your soft hand gently holding mine. I am hurting now, Kathy. I want you back. I know i shouldn’t but i do, i so do today. I loved you, i still love you, although i hate you too, but love and hate run in close lines together. I miss our long Sunday talks on the phone; i miss our neverending texts to each other. Oh, Kathy, why did you leave me? Why did you hurt me so much that day? I needed you more than anything or anyone that day, especially that day of all days, I was in such pain and you could see that and you left me, suddenly, unexpectedly, angrily and there was no goodbye hug with your arms wrapped around me; there was no kiss from my ‘mummy’. You left. You left me. You abandoned me and in hurt so much; it still hurts that much but i tell very few people of the love i had for you. I need you back. Just for today, i need you back”.


I spoke with my therapist this morning. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a flashback of me curled up tight in my bed as a four year old, in the hope of being invisible, being so small so as not to be seen, hugging my bear so close to me, so very tight as the crack in the door let the light in and suddenly i wasn’t invisible. I wished, i wished, i wished that i was, that he wouldn’t find me, that he wouldn’t hurt me but i had no way of stopping him. He pulled the covers back. I shut my eyes tight, pretending it wasn’t happening as he raped his vulnerable, young, four year old child. My therapist pulled me back to reality. I was shaking so much. Right then i would have welcomed those arms around me, holding me safe; that reassuring kiss on the forehead. Right then, i wanted Kathy back but i knew it was impossible. I cried out “I miss Kathy, i loved her; she was my mummy!”. I was forlorn. My therapist gently reminded me of the reality of what i was saying, the reality of the situation.



Kathy was my ‘nightmare therapist’ i’ve spoken of before who stormed out on me because i cried when my dad died. The dad who had abused me for so long. That day, that day, i needed her more than anything. And today; just for today, i want her back. I hurt.