From the author: Immersive Show Women's Stories Level 1. First meeting. Element of Water. Emotions. Shame and Anger (resentment) I still dragged my reluctant body to you, Irina Nikolaevna. After the incident with the test, I was overcome with such burning shame, and at the same time I felt some kind of devastation. “Shame on you, isn’t it a sin for you... you have a small nut on your belly,” that’s how my dad played with me, pressing my navel and laughing somehow disgustingly. Why do I hear his laugh like an ugly one? How mocking? I remember exactly that it was a joke and we played. Although, this shame and dad, his voice, and even the expression on his face, kind of malicious, with a squint and a smile, when he cupped my hand and taught me to tease... did I say tease?... actually, he taught me to shame someone. something, but it really felt more like a tease. “You have to fold your hand like this and show shame, say: “don’t be ashamed, don’t be ashamed, don’t be ashamed.” And when dad found a reason that was more funny and absurd than shameful, he, giggling, encouraged me to shame what made him laugh. I feel disgusted now, but as a child I was glad that my dad took me as an ally and that under his protection I was so strong and could become so important and invincible, indestructible, because I was shaming someone. In general, it seems to me that this theme is omnipotence. Everyone is afraid of you because you judge everyone. And you make me feel ashamed. Everyone blushes, hides their eyes, but you are so important and red with pleasure. Off topic, but then during the session I remembered that I really loved listening to how people at school scolded those who were guilty. The teacher could rant for a long time, like a black grouse, the whole class was silent, and she shamed those who were guilty. That’s what I never expected from dad, that he would direct this weapon against me. I see him young again. How beautifully, how artistically and naturally he could be offended. He clicked his tongue and shook his head in despair. Grief is bitter, not dad. He is experiencing such a blow now, as if his whole appearance speaks. Such a blow... such a disappointment that it’s just a shame! Or shame! I don’t remember why he was so upset. It seems there were many reasons; my father’s reproach lasted almost my entire childhood. I just remember a phrase addressed to me even with sympathy: “Are you feeling sorry now?” It seemed like they were talking about a toy or a treat that needed to be shared. I hold back tears and shake my head: “It’s not a pity.” Because I understand that right now he will cup his hand and start teasing me “don’t be ashamed, don’t be ashamed, don’t be ashamed.” After all, it’s a shame to be greedy. “Greedy beef, be ashamed, flock,” - that’s how we danced together and teased Robin Bobin Barabek, a known glutton. Tears appear in my children's eyes, they are stinging with bitterness, my heart is squeezing strongly, I want with all my childhood strength to be good, to stand under the protection of my dad, and now he will begin to shame me. Me! Me!!! I, tearing it from my heart, convey something to him. There is such pain in my chest. It is mine. Favorite. Native. It's mine. I got it as a gift. It is mine!!! But I pass this on to dad. I feel like he is betraying me at this moment. He's straight up betraying! And further. I can't cry out of regret. Because then dad will realize that I really feel sorry for being greedy. And he cups his hand... what horror... I am overcome with such anger that my body rushed upward under your hands, do you remember, Irina Nikolaevna? My arms were twisted, my legs were cramped. You also said that this is an abbreaction. And after that we both eliminated this... affect. It seemed to me that anger, which had come out of nowhere, bubbled up in my body, moved to my throat, and gurgled there. Until I gave in as you ordered. Perspiration. Fragmentary footage of the past. I remember little of our subsequent time. You said that in hypnosis I would remember everything. I seem to remember, but I can only retell what I have already written. Then everything was a dream in reality. And yet very personal. I’m not ready to describe it “on camera” yet. After the session, my cheeks burned as if all the shame accumulated over the years had decided to pour out in one moment. However, you said that childhood trauma can be lived through for the rest of its life.!