A friend of mine was in a head-on collision. Immediately after impact, despite being seriously injured, he crawled out of the rubble to check on the people in the other car. The police report recounts bystanders seeing him walking around helping others for at least 30 minutes. He never lost consciousness. For years, however, if you asked him about the accident, he couldn’t tell you anything. He didn’t remember a thing between the point of impact and several hours later.
Years later the memories of the accident slowly returned.
We’ve all heard these kinds of stories. They are commonplace. We never question whether the accident really happened.
Child sexual abuse is like a head-on collision. The trauma is often beyond our ability to process at the time. We forget it as it happens. Only later, when it is safe, are we able to recover our memories of what really occurred.
Years later the memories of the accident slowly returned.
We’ve all heard these kinds of stories. They are commonplace. We never question whether the accident really happened.
Child sexual abuse is like a head-on collision. The trauma is often beyond our ability to process at the time. We forget it as it happens. Only later, when it is safe, are we able to recover our memories of what really occurred.
My Story
The first flash of memory came out of the blue. It was a frame—just one single frame—of an entire scene that I could not remember. Then nothing. Just fog. Literally fog. When I tried to remember what had happened—that the one flash of memory had come out of—all I saw was black and gray fog.
The safer I made my life, the more pieces of memory surfaced. First, through the fog, all I saw was the corner of the roof of a building. I was looking up at it as if I were way down on the ground. I knew it wasn’t a house. It was some kind of out-building, I thought. Maybe a garage or a boathouse.
Over many, many months, pieces of the memory fell into place. When I was ten, my mother left me overnight with a 45-year-old man who worked for our family business. He had gotten drunk and started chasing me through the house. He shoved a dishtowel in my mouth, held a butcher knife up to my face and raped me. It happened out by a pool. That’s what the corner of the building was. The pool house. It was the first day of fall—you know, when the angle of the light changes and the air is crisp for the first time that season.
That memory explained so much. Like why I swam in my clothes for two years starting when I was ten. Or why I felt a huge depression every fall when the weather changed. Or why for no apparent reason I suddenly was very, very angry with the man who worked for my family.
That memory was the first of many. Four different men abused me over a period of many years. There are lots of things I forgot in order to survive. I’m sure there are things I still don’t remember. Every now and then a new memory comes to me.
Memories used to scare me. Now they don’t, because I have learned something very important. I never remembered anything I couldn’t handle, even if it required help from others to deal with it. If we remember it, it’s because we are ready to use it to heal. I know this is true. You can trust it. You can trust this absolutely.
The safer I made my life, the more pieces of memory surfaced. First, through the fog, all I saw was the corner of the roof of a building. I was looking up at it as if I were way down on the ground. I knew it wasn’t a house. It was some kind of out-building, I thought. Maybe a garage or a boathouse.
Over many, many months, pieces of the memory fell into place. When I was ten, my mother left me overnight with a 45-year-old man who worked for our family business. He had gotten drunk and started chasing me through the house. He shoved a dishtowel in my mouth, held a butcher knife up to my face and raped me. It happened out by a pool. That’s what the corner of the building was. The pool house. It was the first day of fall—you know, when the angle of the light changes and the air is crisp for the first time that season.
That memory explained so much. Like why I swam in my clothes for two years starting when I was ten. Or why I felt a huge depression every fall when the weather changed. Or why for no apparent reason I suddenly was very, very angry with the man who worked for my family.
That memory was the first of many. Four different men abused me over a period of many years. There are lots of things I forgot in order to survive. I’m sure there are things I still don’t remember. Every now and then a new memory comes to me.
Memories used to scare me. Now they don’t, because I have learned something very important. I never remembered anything I couldn’t handle, even if it required help from others to deal with it. If we remember it, it’s because we are ready to use it to heal. I know this is true. You can trust it. You can trust this absolutely.
Our Walk Together - Questions and Answers
This memory stuff sounds really traumatic. How did you make it through?
Processing memories—making them part of our truth—gets easier the more you do it. My first memory took over a year to process. Now I usually process a memory in a couple of days. Sometimes a couple of hours.
Are the memories you have now as intense as when the memories began?
The intensity of these newer memories may or may not be as strong as the earlier memories—but the processing time is much shorter, because I know the drill. And, I have had time to put memories in perspective. I have come to understand that they are just memories. They can’t harm me today. I also know that they are coming up to be beneficial to me, so I don’t resist them as I once did.
When you talk about “processing” memories, what exactly does this mean?
This is probably different for everyone. For me, it meant a certain set of steps I went through when a memory emerged:
Do I have to remember everything that happened to me in order to heal?
I don’t believe we have to remember everything to heal. We just need to remember what we need to remember in order to heal—that doesn’t necessarily mean everything that happened to us. It means the things that keep us stuck.
How do I make my memories surface? I’m ready to get this over with!
You can’t rush it. Memories come when you are ready to deal with them and not before. In fact, trying to force the matter may slow things down. There are some steps you can take to help the memories emerge once they start, however. Journaling was very helpful to me. Meditation—letting go—also helped. I did a lot of bodywork, like massage. I’ve found that my memories are often stuck in my body and a healing massage can help to release them. So does physical exercise. I trained for and ran half marathons while I was doing my most intense memory work.
The key is to live your life in a way in which you feel safe. Memories come up when you are safe enough to handle them. And remember, you will not remember anything you are not capable of handling. Ever.
I don’t get it. I have always remembered everything. Every single detail. I can’t imagine not remembering. Is this book just for people who forgot their abuse?
This book is for everyone who was abused. Period. Whether you forgot or remembered, the damage is the same. This book is about healing that damage. I write about recovering memories, because that was an important part of my healing and is such a huge issue for many survivors.
I have always remembered my abuse. Does that mean it wasn’t traumatic?
Absolutely not! Some people retain their memories and some lose them. If you have remembered your abuse all along, then you are on your way to healing. You already know what you are dealing with and can take steps to heal from it.
Processing memories—making them part of our truth—gets easier the more you do it. My first memory took over a year to process. Now I usually process a memory in a couple of days. Sometimes a couple of hours.
Are the memories you have now as intense as when the memories began?
The intensity of these newer memories may or may not be as strong as the earlier memories—but the processing time is much shorter, because I know the drill. And, I have had time to put memories in perspective. I have come to understand that they are just memories. They can’t harm me today. I also know that they are coming up to be beneficial to me, so I don’t resist them as I once did.
When you talk about “processing” memories, what exactly does this mean?
This is probably different for everyone. For me, it meant a certain set of steps I went through when a memory emerged:
- First, I made my world very safe. I surrounded myself with the things and people who felt safe to me. I kept my dogs at my side. I kept my world simple. I didn’t take risks while I was doing memory work.
- I spent a lot of time in my safe place—for me that was in my bedroom.
- As memories came, I wrote them in my journal.
- When it felt okay to do so, I read them to my husband or talked to my therapist about them.
- Finally, again as it felt safe, I shared them with the women in my incest survivors group.
- Last, I never told them to anyone who might question the truth of my memories or dishonor them in any way. Never.
Do I have to remember everything that happened to me in order to heal?
I don’t believe we have to remember everything to heal. We just need to remember what we need to remember in order to heal—that doesn’t necessarily mean everything that happened to us. It means the things that keep us stuck.
How do I make my memories surface? I’m ready to get this over with!
You can’t rush it. Memories come when you are ready to deal with them and not before. In fact, trying to force the matter may slow things down. There are some steps you can take to help the memories emerge once they start, however. Journaling was very helpful to me. Meditation—letting go—also helped. I did a lot of bodywork, like massage. I’ve found that my memories are often stuck in my body and a healing massage can help to release them. So does physical exercise. I trained for and ran half marathons while I was doing my most intense memory work.
The key is to live your life in a way in which you feel safe. Memories come up when you are safe enough to handle them. And remember, you will not remember anything you are not capable of handling. Ever.
I don’t get it. I have always remembered everything. Every single detail. I can’t imagine not remembering. Is this book just for people who forgot their abuse?
This book is for everyone who was abused. Period. Whether you forgot or remembered, the damage is the same. This book is about healing that damage. I write about recovering memories, because that was an important part of my healing and is such a huge issue for many survivors.
I have always remembered my abuse. Does that mean it wasn’t traumatic?
Absolutely not! Some people retain their memories and some lose them. If you have remembered your abuse all along, then you are on your way to healing. You already know what you are dealing with and can take steps to heal from it.
Action Steps
This action is about creating an environment that makes it safe for memories to come up. Refer to the chapter on A Safe Place and review the checklist. See if there are things you would like to change about your environment.
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Copyright 2006 Journey Publishing LLC |
