Getting help - almost

So Ryan came up at the weekend and took us back to Francistown, me now carrying an extra load of guilt.  My father was looking terribly drawn when we left and my mother looked like she was still in shock.  How could I have done this to them?

To make matters worse, my mother phoned two days later to let me know that my father had collapsed and been taken to hospital.  They weren’t sure what was wrong with him, but it was as though he had given up the will to live.  Oh boy, did I feel guilty.  It was all my fault.  I was completely to blame.  It never crossed my mind that the blame lay squarely with Alex and I could in no way be held responsible for something that I could not even understand at 9 years old.

A few months passed, with my marriage deteriorating, my guilt blossoming and our financial situation worsening.  Eventually, it all became too much and we decided that what we needed was a fresh start.  So we packed up and moved back to Zimbabwe.  The trials and tribulations of that return again, are another story, but suffice it to say it took us nearly 8 months to finally settle down again in Bulawayo, the second largest city in the country.

But by now I knew that I needed help.  I had finally realised that I could not continue on this downward spiral of despair and self-hatred.  It was affecting every area of my life and it was finally time to try to get myself sorted out.  Yet again though, financial instability scuppered my plans.  I had been diagnosed with Depression for the first time and referred to an excellent Psychologist, Anna and had started to work through the issues in my life, trying to identify the root cause of my state of mind.  We had discussed what happened with Alex and although Anna tried to draw me out on the subject, I was reluctant to discuss it.  It was in the past and had nothing to do with the present.

Anna tried to explain to me that my guilt was misplaced and that I was in no way responsible for what had been done to me.  She used my sons, who were now six and seven years old, as an example – if I found out that someone was sexually molesting them, would I blame them?  Of course I wouldn’t!  But to my mind, that was entirely different.  I just could not accept that I too, was blameless.

Before we could reach a point where I was willing to fully accept this, the money ran out.  We could no longer afford the sessions with Anna.  

So the downward spiral continued.  The theatre came into my life again to rescue me, or so I thought.  But this time, although it helped me to escape on the one hand, it also sent my husband into the arms of another woman.