I am having a weird morning. I keep trying to articulate thoughts, but nothing quite gets completed. I mean, I am sort of just writing all the time in my head, trying to use the discipline of words to get clarity on my thinking and it ends up just trailing off.

I came up against this idea last night that if I come to terms with the fact of the abuse—if I can really believe from a deep place that it is okay and survivable to know what happened to me—I am going to remember everything. The dissociative wall is going to come down and absolutely everything is going to come across it.

In reality, I don’t think that will happen. The emotions of it will get too intense and I will dissociate again or I will get cognitively overloaded just trying to put facts together, and the wall will go right back up. It’s not going to happen all at once.

But in a longer-term sense, yes, that will happen. I don’t just mean more memories of trauma, but memories of ordinary things. I will have more than the handful of memories of going to Safeway or whatever it was to buy grape sodas or of wearing a particular red polka-dotted dress. I didn’t just forget all this stuff. It is there, waiting like a train ready to pull into the station. I have a childhood apart from the childhood I used to remember waiting for me to claim it.

In there, somewhere, is likely to be my personality: as I arrange these scraps of childhood, I think I am also going to be discovering those things that feel like “home base” to me.

I mentioned this yesterday: I have idea if I will like that person or if anyone else will.

I am scared.

Part of what it seems I need to do today is reassure myself. Whoever I am will be someone it is okay to be.

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