The Session Begins


The reason I started this blog was to explore my mind, to put thoughts down….experiences….to explore my life.

I had a rough childhood, but lot’s better than millions of other sad children…and adults of my era.

I am not looking for sympathy or pity.

I think I’ve turned out okay, and I believe that this blog has helped me tremendously, more than you can know.

But y’all all know that I am honest and self-deprecating about my life. I do not have an embarrassed or ashamed bone in my body.

I write about the abuse I suffered as a child and my lost years of alcoholism with the intent that it is a healing process.

I put it out there for the world to see because keeping it inside only makes it rot.

I am only a man searching for more answers with few remaining questions.

There are millions of people that have it much worse than I and suffer daily, more atrocities than i can fathom.

But it happened to me…….

I thought it was bad enough at the time….

Now…..Our session begins……

I am lying on a couch in Dr. Freud’s office again….

I had another uh…..episode.

[Session begins…Tape starts recording]

Dr. F – “Are you comfortable?”

Me – “Yeah”

Dr. F – “I want to get into this new uh…episode that you have experienced recently”

Me – “Okay….”

Dr. F – “Where did you grow up?”

Me – “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Dr. F – stern look

Me – “Shiloh, Georgia” [scratches nose][fidgets on couch]

Dr. F – “That’s in the southern United States, right?”

Me – blank look [looks at exit door]

Dr. F – “Didn’t you tell me you grew up on a farm?”

Me – “Yes sir”

Dr. F – “What kind of farm was it?”

Me – “A hog farm”

Dr. F – “Did you like living on a hog farm?”

Me – “It was okay…I mean….It was alright….”

Dr. F – “How old were you when your father left you alone to tend the farm….the hogs?”

Me – “He had to go, he worked on the road in construction”

Dr. F – “….How old were you, when he left you and your mother on the farm?”

Me – “ 7…?”

Dr. F – “That’s kind of young don’t you think now?”

Me – “I don’t know……I guess…..but times were different back then. Dad had to go work”

Dr. F – “How many hogs were there on this farm?”

Me – [scratches nose] “…Oh….5-700 at any given time”

Dr. F – [making a note on his pad, scratches his bearded chin] “That seems like a lot for a 7 year old boy to take care of alone”.

Me – [shrugs indifferently] “Dad had to go to work….”

Dr. F – “Didn’t you have any friends, neighbors or family members to help you?”

Me – “Yeah, but no one had to help me. It was my job and they was busy”

Dr. F – “Did you have a best friend?”

Me – “Yes sir…[fidgets]….Ricky Moore….he lived at the end of our dirt road”

Dr. F – “How old was he….7 also?”

Me – “Oh no….he was like 12 or 13”

Dr. F – [looks at me with a puzzled glance] “That’s kind of old to be a best friend for someone your age?

Me – “Maybe….but him and Trent was the only boys close by that I could play with’ [scratches thigh]

Dr. F – “Trent….? He wasn’t a best friend?”

Me – “No sir…..He couldn’t because he was a nigger”

Dr. F – [fidgets][scribble scribble]  “Who told you he was a….Negro?”

Me – [puzzled look] “He was black….You could see he was a nigger, I ain’t had nobody to tell me.”

Dr. F – “How old was Trent?”

Me – “I don’t know, same age as Ricky….but not as big as Ricky”

Dr. F – “What did you 3 do for fun?”

Me – [rolls onto right side and pulls knees up to chest and starts tracing lines on the floor with a finger]

Dr. F – “Didn’t you guys have fun?”

Me – “Well…..I guess we did sometimes….swimming and stuff”

Dr. F – “You don’t look like you had much fun….”

Me – [stares at finger tip stopped, starts retracing lines in reverse]

Dr. F – “Well…..?’

Me – [says just above a whisper] “They used to hold me down and make me suck their… You know…”

Dr. F –  blank stare [regains focus, scribble scribble]

Me – “They said they’d kill Toby my dawg if I said anything”

Dr. F – [scribble scribble scratch brush away scratch]

Me – [tracing big circles] “They was too big, Ricky could hit real hard”

Dr. F – [looks up] “You fought back?”

Me – “I tried to, but they was too big”

Dr. F – “How long did they make you…..perform this act?”

Me – “Until they…. Was…. You know…. Until they… finished”

Dr. F – [pauses, looks up with a grimace] “I meant, how long in days….”

Me – “I was 11 when we moved”

Dr. F – “So…..It lasted about 3 years.” [scribble]

Dr. F – [hard stare scribble hard stare scribble scribble]

Me – “Trent said I was gonna have a baby one day and Ricky hit me in the stomach and made me puke then he say “No he ain’t”

Dr. F – [lips moving, wipes sweat from eyebrow scribble scribble]

Dr. F – [looks up] “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”  “Why didn’t you tell your father or mother?”

Me – “Because I promised…..and they said they was gonna kill Toby”

Dr. F – “Don’t you think your father would have stopped them?”

Me – [looks at doctor as if though he had lost his mind] “I couldn’t tell him that stuff…!”

Dr. F – “Why not…?”

Me – “Cuz he was always mad when he came home ‘cause he said he couldn’t save no money having to send it all home to us all the time”

Dr. F – “He was mad all the time…?”

Me – “Yessir, when he come home he’d count the slices of baloney and put a pen mark on the milk jug to make sure we didn’t drink none while he was gone”

Dr. F – [long stare…then, scribble scribble]

Dr. F – “What about your mother?”

Me – [rolls back onto his back and stares at the ceiling fan….spinning….spinning]

Me – “She just laid on the couch most of the time and yelled about us cleaning up or getting out of her house”

Dr. F – “What do you think about …Ricky?          “….And this Trent now that you’re a grown man?”

Me – “Ricky got killed in prison I heard, I ain’t got no idea about Trent”

[Pause in audio, pen scribbling, fan spinning] woop woop woop

Me – “I don’t think I’m mad, it was different back then, nobody said anything about mess like that, besides, I don’t remember much about it anymore” [corner of mouth twitches, scratches nose, scratches thigh]

Dr. F – “Are you angry towards them….your parents”

Me – [looks at doctor] “Why’d I be mad at them?”

Dr. F – “Because they didn’t stop those 2 boys from hurting you”

Me – “They was busy all the time, they didn’t want us coming in and out all damn day long crying about a skint ass knee….”

Dr. F – “Didn’t you think your father could stop Ricky and Trent, didn’t you think he was “BIG” enough?”

Me – [Wide eyes] “Oh hell yeah, Daddy could beat the hell outta them! ”


“He made me bleed all the time….”

[Session concludes as tape ends]

26 thoughts on “The Session Begins”

  1. Wow….this isn’t just a story…is it? Based on the introduction before the session started, it didn’t seem like it was….
    I would like to write more…but it depends on what the answer is…

  2. Dude. This was a lot to put out there. You have way more courage than I do, seriously. So, can I ask you a psychoanalytical question: How do you feel about putting this out there?
    See, I am not so sure I would feel any better if I threw mine up on the screen. Sometimes when I write it in private, on a word doc, I feel more anger than relief. I do feel some relief when I write in my journal though, but that is hard on my hands, especially during a flare time.
    Sleep quietly tonight. Peace for your mind.

    1. I’m fine. I posted it because I was ready. Like I said, that’s why I started my blog. I’ve said it from the beginning. I do it for myself. One day to rest without regret or secrets.

      1. Good for you. Now, seriously make sure you take care of yourself tonight. One thing my therapist always said was to make sure I drank a lot of water after a really hard session. She said it was something like replenishing me for all the stress had done to my muscles. I guess sort of like weight lifting.

        Peace & Love

      2. I read over “session” and decided to follow Stephen King’s advice “On Writing:A Memoir” and eliminate unnecessary words. If you remember there was some crude language. That did my intent little service. I changed the verbiage and tweaked it a tad, removed some vulgarity while retaining substantive integrity.
        Meaning…. I took out the dirty words.
        Sorry about that old girl….

      3. Who is old here?
        I try to follow the same advice, although at times for me, some words just fit and express the substance of what ever emotion I am feeling. Maybe it offends some, there are so many other blogs they can read other than mine, and they do.
        Do what makes it work for you.

      4. Sorry, was getting rid of some blogs I was following. Kind’a got pissed last night and decided there were a couple I really didn’t want to be a part of anymore.

        Now, if you read King, he uses lots of swear words. I just finished Dr. Sleep and he was amassed with a few nice ones. So, I guess if your tone can be preserved and the idea conveyed without it, then go for it. Or, if your audience is one which it might offend, then it would do better without. I don’t personally care who my audience is, like I said, my writing is for me, the other stuff for my followers. If a person doesn’t like what I write they have the option of unfollowing me, or just bypassing anything I write. I guess that is why I don’t have the handsome following you do. I guess you have decided your audience is one who doesn’t take to curse words very well, then you are kind of Dean Koontz’ing it. Almost all of his Odd Thomas books have little or no swearing.

        Peace & Love

  3. Heavy stuff, Trey. I’m sorry you went through these things, and it makes me terribly sad that there was nobody to protect you. I know everybody has to find their own way to deal with crap like this, and it seems as though you are finding yours – I’m glad of that. What has helped me in my own life is to believe these things:
    They didn’t do those things because they hated you.
    They didn’t do those things because you deserved them.
    They did those things because they were too weak and selfish to place your basic needs ahead of their own impulses. Same goes for your mom and dad.

    It’s not an excuse for what they did; it’s just reasons. But it has helped me to think that way when I’m dealing with my own crap, and I hope it helps you, too. Wishing you peace.

    1. I have come to grip with the fact that my parents were people too, subject to their own era and upbringing. I took comfort in the fact that they probably didn’t even know any other way to be.

      1. Probably true, and it’s a testament to the strength of your character that you didn’t know any other way to be, either, but you’re finding another way regardless. It sounds as though you’ve been through hell to get where you are, and you probably fight for it every day… but you’re doing it. You have my deepest admiration.

    1. Thanks a lot. You and I started our blogs for close to the same reason.
      …. Self help or self discovery.
      I checked out your blog as a “comment” courtesy and loved what I have seen. I actually AM looking forward to your past tales and future. I hope you enjoy and learn as much from any welcome visit to mine. I sense a lengthy admiration…

  4. Hellish shit. I read the whole piece seeing you as you are now but as a kid’s size.
    Diane makes some excellent points. But it is still a really difficult thing to read let alone have endured. None of it your fault but all that stuff carried for years. No wonder you drank, Trey. I don’t want to do any amateur psychology here but it does beg the question, don’t you think? Maybe just kept it all drowned for years.
    It’s not what I want to read. I never want to read anything where children get hurt. But I force myself. If you lived through it and can share it then it opens eyes to what some still suffer. And we understand better. So we can do more.
    So sorry that that was your experience. Really shitty. But I do hope you found it cathartic too. Hugs.x

  5. I have another friend who is trying to get past similar memories. I suggested he write it out – I may point him in your direction. He doesn’t have a blog, but he’ll be able to read, if not comment or like.
    I’m truly sorry you were subjected to this. I wish something could be done to anyone who inflicts such abuse.
    You may get some encouragement – certainly you will see similar feelings – when I post the true story that my series was based on. I hope you get some comfort from it as well.

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