therapy

It was an intense session. I spent a good portion of it crying. My therapist asked me why I was crying. I told her I was embarrassed and ashamed. I told her I hated myself. She asked me some questions about what I would think if someone else of that age (9-12) did the same things I did. She asked me if I would see them as a "confused little girl" or a slut. I said I'd see them as a confused little girl but that didn't change how I see myself. It was a really rough session but my therapist said she was proud of me for telling her. It was so hard even having her read it (since I wrote it down). My assignment for this week was to write what happened from an objective third-person point of view. That'll be tough. Yeah, that was it for that really. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself or let it go. I just want to forget it. I said that several times during the session. I don't ever want to talk about it again. I know I will have to but it was not pleasant. I know therapy isn't fun but I wish that it was. Therapy is hard shit. Life is hard shit. I wish there was an easy button. Okay, enough rambling for now.