I think I know things. But then I forget them. That must be how it works, because I keep "learning" and "knowing" the same things over and over again.
Over the weekend I read a quote that I really liked:
"During sexual abuse, children feel & incorporate the rage, pain, shame, and sense of perversion that the perpetrator is projecting. They take these feelings into the very core of themselves, & they are badly traumatized by the emotions surrounding the assault, as well as by the assault itself.” Repressed Memories: A Journey of Recovery From Sexual Abuse by Renee Fredrickson, Ph.D.
I immediately copied and pasted it to my my Facebook wall. Then I went hunting for the book cited. I found it on Amazon in short order and noticed it had a small number of reviews and they were mixed at best.
I scanned through the reviews and quickly saw the recurring issue of repressed memories and whether or not they are valid.
That was all it took to send me panicking down a rabbit trail I thought I'd long left behind. Did I make all this stuff up? How accurate are my memories? Can I be trusted? And so I deleted the quote from wall. Black and white. All or nothing.
The fact is, that description still rings true to me, regardless of what mistakes the author may have made in her professional life. The physical damage done to me was enormous, but the emotional toll it took has been the most long lasting. Physical wounds heal in their appointed way, but emotional wounds are often neglected or ignored outright.
These were the questions that made up my panic driven life for years, and I fell right back into that trap. It took a couple of days to pull myself out of it. This morning I woke up with a clearer picture of reality and the role that my memories play in my life.
And once more I know that I'm not crazy, just hurt. And I'm putting that quote back on my Facebook page.