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When the Piano Stops

I ordered this book, When The Piano Stops by Catherine McCall off of Amazon.com with a gift card my cousin gave me for Christmas. This was helpful since I don't have my own credit card, nor do I plan on getting one anytime soon. I think this may be a good idea because if I have a credit card, I may go crazy shopping online and spend a bunch of money and I really can't afford to do that! Anyway, I finished reading her book within a couple of days. It's her memoir of her journey through dealing with her sexual abuse. I highly recommend people read her book and help her "make good" of "it". Her story can be triggering for some and it was for me. I laughed, got angry, cried, and smiled throughout her story. It helped me to organize my own thoughts and remember some more of what happened with my abuse. I had been remembering bits and pieces of more of Wildwood but I decided to keep it inside of me and not mention it to anyone. I felt that if I had shared it with others, it would have made me want to remember it even more and try and force myself to remember. By forcing myself, it would take longer for me to remember the memories instead of them just coming to me.

They came to me alright! Between flashbacks and nightmares, I finally remembered more of what happened last night, in my closet. He did it again. I thought that I was in the house alone except, I really wasn't. He didn't leave with the rest of the gang. I don't remember nearly as many details as I do about the first time but I'm sure it'll get there eventually.

Insurance is being a pain in the ass with going to Princeton House's Woman's Trauma Program. If they're going to pay 50% then there's NO WAY I can afford to go there. If they're going to pay 90% then I can definitely afford to go. The longer this takes, the harder it is for me to imagine myself going there and I'm starting to wonder if this is a sign...if this is a sign that I shouldn't go and I should just stick with seeing CJ. Of course seeing CJ would be just GREAT for me--I work hard with her...probably harder during one session than I could over the course of two days in a day program. OR, this sign could go the other day--a great test of my strength...to see how determined I am to get better and go the extra step to go into a program...see how long I can hold on until things are approved for me to go into treatment. However, working with CJ is just as equal treatment as a day program would be. I just can't make up my mind. I LOVE working with CJ. It's really hard to leave her and work with someone else...really hard. She's so damn good that it's hard for me to be as open as I am with her because when I don't see her, it's HER that I'm looking for in a therapist. Damn her and her high standards! Lol. Jk.

So, back to the book. I wanted to post something that I read from When The Piano Stops because I could relate a LOT to it and I'm sure that many others can too, "But I don't know for sure why, or how, I control my impulse to self-destruct. It might be that I'm so accustomed to choosing life in the face of death that getting out of the tub and drying off is the natural thing to do."

Until another time,

Night:)

<3Christina

APA Reference
(2009, March 9). When the Piano Stops, HealthyPlace. Retrieved on 2024, December 24 from https://www.healthyplace.com/support-blogs/myblog/When-the-Piano-Stops

Last Updated: January 14, 2014

Medically reviewed by Harry Croft, MD

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