Category Archives: Shards of Memory

I Had an Emotion

I like Hank Hill a lot.  Hank doesn’t fuck around with emotions.  He stuffs them way down inside, and just ignores them.  One episode where he teaches LuAnne to stuff her feelings is a personal favorite.

Emotions are messy, by and large, and I like things to be tidy and neat.  Not to mention they are scurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!  Like monsters wif big teefs and witches with long green fingernails who want to scratch your eyebanols out.

Anyhow, I have changed my meditation routine.  Instead of meditating, I, as the present-day-me, have been trying to get the little-me to talk to me if she wants to.  After all, she’s the one who went to battle with the monster, so I figure she is the expert, right?

So we are sitting on the couch, and we are having this internal dialogue.  I don’t recall the exact conversation, but I think the gist of it was present-day-me reassuring little-me that things were going to be okay, that none of it was her fault, etc, etc.

And the subject of being bad was touched on by one of us.  Don’t remember which one.

And little me said something like “I must be really bad.  Because you’d have to be really bad for your own mom not to protect you”.

I felt so bad for her.  It made me cry.

Not like sob or anything, but I did get watery eyes and I had a couple of tears roll down my cheek.  And if you knew me, you’d know that was saying a good bit.

So in the words of Hank Hill

“I had an emotion”.

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Memory – 4th of July parade

As I mentioned earlier, I am pretty disassociated. While I don’t think that my personality is totally splintered or anything, I do know that I tend (as in most of the time) to really not connect emotionally. Not to myself, and not to other people.

I don’t know if I’d have been this way no matter, or whether the abuse caused it. It is what it is though.

Add to that, I don’t have many memories of my childhood at all. I think that my mind, as a protective mechanism, issued some kind of order to the troops. “Hey, we’ve got a child brain on overload here. Batten down the hatches, and either bury it deep, or take an industrial strength eraser to it. Mayday, mayday, this is not an alert. Child is going to snap”.

In other words, I think there are some things that, to ensure survival, the brain just steps in, and applies a filter that it normally would not. When K and I talked about this, I likened it to a woman having a child, and how that if we could truly remember the feeling…not just the vague notion of “yes, I know it hurt”…if women could actually remember the pain of childbirth, then the human race would have probably died out a long time ago.

So, I’m really not sure that trying to push for any memories is a good thing to do. I think it is safe to say that after enduring molestation for 5 years, my brain has had a lot to sweep under the rug. I am not sure that it truly is in my best interest to try to remember.

As an aside, to clarify, no one is suggesting to me that I should. It’s just rather a quandary. How do you connect to feelings as part of the healing process if you have no feelings to remember?

More on that in later posts. For now, one with the memory

A bare minimum of my stepfather, and my stepfather’s brother were at the 4th of July parade. I’m sure my brothers, my mother my and sister were there too, but I don’t remember.

What I do remember is hearing my stepfather’s brother tell my stepfather with a real leering tone that I was going to be “built like a brick shithouse”. I can remember feeling really embarrassed…that feeling when your cheeks get hot and feeling really creeped out. I also remember wanting to just go away.

A final thing that I remember about that incident is what I had on. They were purple shorts and a purple and white striped tank top. I don’t know how old I was at the time, but I remember the clothes were made by Buster Brown, and that is a children’s brand, I am pretty sure.

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