I remember reading a memoir in high school, about someone else’s experience, and that’s when it hit me. All these memories, these sickening flashbacks. I remember how difficult it was to reconcile with them. It was really hard to believe them, to accept them, because it felt like a fabrication, a lie I was telling myself – how could I have possibly “forgotten” something like that? I felt crazy. What was wrong with me that I would make something like that up? And why couldn’t I stop myself from thinking about it? Stop lying to myself?

I didn’t tell anyone because there was nothing to tell, and it wasn’t true. It didn’t happen. In my mind, it was a constant struggle between pushing it away and trying to understand it. But it never felt real. Even when I tried, I just couldn’t remember enough to justify believing it; there were just too many questions, not enough answers, and the pieces just never quite fit together. “all I have left are fragments, like a fill-in-the-blank, like skipping through the chapters of a DVD – just a series of silent images flashing for a second at a time…” I had, at one point, documented everything I thought I remembered, but all I have left now is a disclaimer: “[I had written what little I could, in an attempt to trigger more; a failed attempt, and I am too ashamed of my words, so I deleted them.]

I spent years, confused, in denial – completely unable to comprehend the reality that I had been molested. It wasn’t until college, when I received that phone call [apology], that it all became real. And even then, even now, it’s hard, not knowing the details – not knowing exactly what all happened to MY body, and how many times. And knowing that I probably never will.

All that to say, there are other memories, a lot of other memories – things I’ve always felt were just a little off, things that seemed kind of strange, that didn’t really make sense to me – but that I had no reason whatsoever to think ill of before, or even think much more of at all. But I read something yesterday that triggered me – I saw so many similarities in all the things that just didn’t seem right in my childhood, and what I was reading…and once again, it just kind of hit me. It suddenly made perfect sense why those moments didn’t seem right. And I started having flashbacks. Again, not complete memories. Just enough to make me feel EXACTLY like I did in high school, crazy – torn between feeling like I must be fabricating things that didn’t actually happen, and simultaneously terrified that they did happen.

I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to talk about it because it feels like a lie. It feels absolutely impossible. But I can’t stop thinking about it. And how all the pieces “fit” now.


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August 1, 2020

I think it feels impossible because it’s so hard to deal with that reality. Maybe now you are ready!

August 1, 2020

@mlle You are right. it is so hard to accept a new reality, especially one you don’t WANT to be true.

August 1, 2020

Hi. I had a similar experience to what you describe. I knew I’d experienced bad abuse but there were details I completely blocked out. It’s always a shock when specific memories come back. I continue to dissociate to the point of losing time.

Please don’t think you’re crazy. Or brain protects us from these kinds of things by not letting us remember sometimes.

Have you ever spoken to a professional regarding the trauma you experienced? EMDR can be very successful is assisting with these kinds of things.

I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Please know there are others like us out there who know what you’re talking about. You’re not crazy. You’re not alone.

August 1, 2020


emdr seems too intense, I’m only just starting to be comfortable talking about the experiences I do remember – I’m afraid that going through the process and recovering more memories right now would break me. but it is on my radar.

I’m currently just in talk therapy, for what I thought was just general anxiety from the pandemic that I couldn’t get a handle on – but of course, as you peel back the layers, you start to uncover all the unprocessed trauma. And I honestly thought fine, I can do that, I’m 31 years old, I can talk about it and it will be hard but then I can move on. I did NOT expect to re-experience all  the emotions or make even more connections…I always considered myself quite self aware and perceptive of my experiences but holy F, therapy has opened my eyes to so much more.