My EMDR sessions with my current therapist pulled up a warm summer evening when my mother finally lost her temper with me.
Not about grades.
Not about chores.
Not even about sneaking out.
No… this was the night she shouted at me for “thinking I am a Chicken.”
I told her, “I am not any chicken. I’m Chainsaw Chicken.”
Much like Bruce Wayne declaring, “I’m Batman!”
EMDR — Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing — has this annoying habit of digging up memories I thought were buried with my childhood lunchbox. And once they’re loose, they twist how I see everything… like realizing my whole life may have been one long audition to be Chainsaw Chicken.
My therapist just nodded and scribbled in his file: “Patient believes he is a chicken.”
And that’s when I remembered something even darker… my mother had already written that line in her own journal decades ago. I noted it in my post about my Mother’s Day message to her. SEE iT HERE.
Therapy is scheduled to continue. The therapist suggested I should invite her into one of my sessions.
I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
Do you think so?