Chapter 3

My therapist has been seeing me for over a year.

I first met with her on March 18, 2011.

She started out her little greeting with a disclaimer.

If I was suicidal or involved in a pedophilic relationship, she did not have the intense training to help me out.

I remember thinking, and saying, that "No, I am not inclined in any way towards young people, male nor female, and yes, I had contemplated suicide at different stages of my life, but that the latest episode was thwarted by my family doctor, over a week ago".

She recently reminded me that her specialty was dealing with victims, and those who had something deep inside that would cause them to feel as if they could not go on.

I do love children. I adore my own. But as I explain this I can see that my reaction would be to scream or cry or run away if any of them tried to act 'sexual' in any way.

Through these tears I now have to laugh. I remember one of my daughter's friends, at around 13 years of age, flashed me her young chest at our local swim club.

Once home, I grabbed my camera and told her to go ahead, flash away. Let me take pictures so I can show your family and friends.

I know, I know. I should have just taken her home to sit with her parents and explain what happened. But somewhere in there that little 10 year old boy was trying to yell at her, through my now 42 year old voice, about safety and awareness and consequences. I can picture her pleading with me and telling me she would never do that again.

How best to ask her, now a young woman of 24, if I caused her to have her own demons by my actions that day?

The more I write, the more tears I find. The more I feel the pain and sadness washing away and the raw emotions finding their way to my mind. I am alive.